World Tree MUSH

  Yesterday the princess had gone out to collect some reagents. She'd taken her bow and quiver, left a note saying that she wasn't going far and would be back in time for supper.

  Then the stupid Vine had dumped her right in the middle of a zombie crisis.

  Six or seven hours later, the princess had staggered back to Snowpeak Garrison. The stench of blood and burnt skin had preceded her. Clutching at her wounded arm, she had limped right past any of her travelling companions, straight into her quarters (a nice feature that all of Snowpeak's guests can enjoy, now). She moved like one in a trance, expression haunted and hollow, skin ashen.

  The door had shut, the bar had fallen into place, and the princess hadn't responded to anything since. Zelda had treated her wounds in numb, exhausted silence. Then, she had slept like one mostly dead.

  Now, morning breaks over the cliffs. Sunlight filters past the jagged peaks. Steam rises from the flagstones as golden light warms them. Workmen begin to stir, climbing the scaffolding around the curtain walls and calling to one another in their bizarre assortment of languages as they get ready for the day's work.

  It's going to be a nice afternoon.

  The princess is... not in her quarters by the time the sun rises. She's in one of the armouries, instead. Restored like the rest of the estate, there's still equipment in them, and it looks like the princess is sifting through some of the junk and looking for something that can still be used.

  Curiously, most of the armour is huge. It fits something that looks like a Lizalfos. There are useful things, though; shields, swords, pikes, and other weapons; there are even a few crossbows that look like they could be refurbished. There's some horse equipment, too, with bridles and saddles hung on pegs. The dusty old armoury smells like... well, dust, but it also smells like tea, with a splash of something Definitely Not Tea, as well as burn salve, the faded scent of divine blood, old leather, and old metal.

It was a rare occasion in which Link didn't have the opportunity to trail Zelda. He was sleeping when she left, but the scent of her found him long before she arrived back home. The Sacred Beast left the garrison, not to go to Zelda -- he could tell that she would recover simply by the fact that she was moving in this direction -- but to go fetch something /for/ her. So, there was no one waiting when she returned, and no one there when she went to sleep.

It's only now that Link comes meandering back, a sealed bottle full of blue liquid held in his teeth. He follows the smell of her here and there -- it's all over the place -- until he catches it strong enough to lead him to where she actually is. The sound of his claws against the floor precedes the door opening with a firm shove.

Whereupon the Sacred Beast releases the bottle and noses it across the floor towards Zelda. The very idea is in and of itself absurd. It would've been less surprising if he'd turned back up with a bottle of milk; someone, somewhere is bound to still be milking cows. But blue potion? Surely whoever could brew that would be of Interest.

Y'smell like corpses and bacon. Link remarks, I noticed that from a ways off, so I reckoned you might need somethin' like this.

S'pose I coulda brought soap instead. But I figured y'had other things t'take care of first.

  A mostly open room, the armoury boasts equipment racks scattered here and there. Most of them bear armour, but the suits are too big for even the stoutest Hylian frame, and boast holes for what appears to be a tail. The gauntlets' fingers don't add up right, either, and they're too broad to fit a hand in them. Someone must have been an eccentric collector of monster equipment -- these look like they could fit the brawny frame of a Lizalfos.

  Most of those have been pushed aside. A few armour forms have been set up, and two and a half sets of armour for a Hyrulean soldiers have been set up on them. They're a few generations out of date in the details, not that Link would notice; the colours aren't quite right, and some of the leather pieces are badly damaged by neglect.

  Still not the interesting stuff. Zelda is seated on the floor and busily digging through a pile of what appears to be completely random, miscellaneous junk; there must be something interesting in there, though, because she's bothering to spend the effort.

  She tosses something over her shoulder thoughtlessly, where it clatters against one of the suits of Lizalfos armour, and bounces on the floor. A piece of an articulated gauntlet, relieved of its fingers.

  Something catches her eye, though, and she dives in with renewed determination. A snatch of what looks like deep violet, a glint of gold, and she frowns, trying to dig out whatever that glimpse is. Claws clicking on the stone interrupt her single-minded search. Zelda glances up and over her shoulder, just in time to see the corked bottle rolling across the floor. Her eyes track it uncomprehendingly--

  Oh. A potion. A much more high-end potion than the average Hylian peasant could afford, at that.

  "I really hope you didn't kill anybody to get that," she sighs through her teeth, stooping to pick up the bottle. Swilling it a little between thumb and forefinger, she turns a critical eye on the glass. The colour's good... viscosity, good... it looks like it's up to par. It won't kill her if she drinks it. Probably. "Thanks. I think I'll save this for now, though, in the vevent that I actually need it. I've felt worse."

  Setting the bottle aside, she turns her attention back to the pile of junk. "I did. Like bathing. Cities are filthy," she observes, serently, "and they are especially filthy when they're overrun by whatever those... /things/... were."

  She sighs. "Oh. I haven't even seen you, so I suppose you don't even know what happened. I'd been gathering herbs; they're useful in the kitchen, and they're also useful for salves and poultices. I was on my way back to the garrison, and I thought I'd take a shortcut through a nearby Vine." Flatly, "Didn't work. I landed in a warzone. Some kind of modern city. I think it may have been the one to belong to the Adept Slayer. Apparently, his name is 'Copen.' Someone else wants him dead, too, but she's..." Zelda makes a gesture of incomprehension. "I don't know. It's confusing, and thinking about it makes my head hurt."

  "I met Aloy -- she's a hunter of some kind, and trustworthy; she helped me to rescue the townspeople from the monsters rampaging in their midst. I'm afraid Copen most likely noticed I was there, though, and he hasn't forgotten." Zelda shivers. "What a disturbed young man. Anyway... I think most of the people were able to get away. Not all of them. I wanted to stay to tend their wounds, as there were quite a few wounded, but by that point my side was bleeding and I was getting too dizzy to stand up, and I also wanted to get away from the... from Copen." She shakes her head, tossing aside what looks like the metal grip of a shield, only it's missing the rest of the shield. It lands on the flagstones with a clatter. "He's insane. There's no reasoning with that kind of insanity."

  "I hope Aloy got away alright. I don't think she has any sorts of powers like mine, so hopefully Copen won't pursue her."

  Silence passes by for a few beats.

  "Soap would be nice, but there's a fairly generous supply of it in the storeroom..."

  ...He might not like the way she's eyeing him.

The Sacred Beast surveys the room around him with distant interest. The equipment really isn't made for the people who are around, for the most part. He wonders why anybody would stockpile all this beast-folk equipment. Could they have been planning something /with/ those clans? It didn't seem likely, but they wouldn't be the first or the last to consider making use of the beast tribes for one thing or another. Maybe merely protection. Then again...

He looks left, and right.

This place is too cold for Lizalfos to be comfortable. Or maybe even alive. Maybe it was Lizalfos the owner was trying to stay away from to begin with.

Link whines in annoyance at Zelda's initial reaction. He replies, Might not be too shy about stealin' if I gotta, but I ain't gonna go 'round killin' anybody for goods. No, I'm just a respectable Ordon boy who happens to know where to go to find the cure for what ails you. Too bad the medicine ladies ain't got anything strong enough for the likes of me.

I... had a general idea, he corrects her, I can smell you from miles away if you're hurt enough, an' you were pretty hurt. But you were movin' at a good clip, so I figured I'd go and fetch somethin' that would fix you up good and thorough-like, since you had to be okay to be movin' so quick.

On the subject of Copen, Link just listens, one ear drooping slightly. He still hasn't encountered the Adept Slayer, and from all that's been said he's of the mind that he really doesn't want to. But that guy always seems to show up when he's nowhere to be found.

If she ain't the type he's lookin' after, and there were better targets, I reckon he'd go after them instead of her.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sighs heavily.

Link opens his eyes to fix Zelda with a flat look, Dogs don't smell better when ya bathe 'em.

  It does seem too cold to support anything that relies on sunlight to keep an even body temperature. The mountain range may be in spring, but the nights are still cold enough to warrant fires in the hearths. Before the sun rises over the peaks in the morning, the shadows and the wind are bone-chillingly cold.

  "Well, it isn't like I know you well," Zelda points out, unconcerned by the Sacred Beast's annoyance. "For all I know, you could be a criminal. That you happen to fulfill the role of the Chosen Hero is incidental. I think the Lifegiver doesn't particularly care what your personality is as long as you fulfill Her strictires upon Her champions. A criminal can still be courageous," she says, shrugging. "Just as a ruler can be a terrible person, and still do what is required of them in the most technical sense. My grandmother was well-loved, but even I am not so naive as to think that she was kindly and generous at all times in her life."

  There are mysteries where her grandmother is involved; of that she has no doubt. The only real questions are the hows and whys of the affairs the so-named 'Princess of Destiny' was involved in. Zelda has her own suspicions, although none of them can be confirmed until the castle and its archives -- if any of them survived -- is liberated.

  Zelda picks up a piece of... something, turning it this way and that as she examines it. It looks like it might have been part of a horse's bridle, with half a bit, and the rest of it rusted away. She shrugs and chucks it over her shoulder like the other detritus.

  "No, she doesn't seem to be his kind of target. There were by far better targets. Whoever that woman was he was attacking, she quite nearly had his undivided attention... although I suppose if I were in his situation, I'd have been paying attention to her, too. She was behind the spread of that... whatever-it-was. The animals and people afflicted behaved like rabid animals. There was nothing left of whoever or whatever they used to be in their eyes, after she was finished with them. They just... rampaged. Everywhere."

  She twists, eyeing Link over her shoulder. "Actually, they do, especially when they've been rolling around in something noxious, as dogs are wont to do. I may not have a nose quite like yours, but some nights, you don't exactly smell like roses, you know." Her accusation isn't entirely serious, though; still crouched, she rocks back on her heels to study the impressive pile of junk left by the previous tenants. "I think I might be able to piece together a few useful sets of equipment out of..." She waves a hand, almost disappointedly. "All of this. I was hoping for a little more use out of all of this, but I suppose it is what it is. What a mess. I wonder if anyone in Kakariko Village is interested in scrap."

Y'know me well enough. Link retorts, angling his ears back slightly, somebody who thinks ta give even bulblins the benefit o' the doubt probably ain't gonna be too cut-throat. Anyhow it don'e matter none, I got it in a perfectly respectable way. Forest witches ain't terribly put off by curiously intelligent dogs, and ain't nobody goes that far into the woods just to shut down one ol' lady peddlin' potions and rotgut.

I do get carried away sometimes, he admits, but I don't much like the idea of killin' somethin that looks too much like me. Well-- normally, anyway. Y'know what I mean. Sure ain't gonna do it over somethin' like a potion. Ain't like I don't come across enough money along the way. Don't taste good to carry it 'round in your mouth for miles and miles, though.

The potion, either.

Sounds like this person he focused on, He carries on, prob'ly wouldn't be too bad to have gone. If yer lucky, a coupla types like that will take care o' each other. But I get the impression anybody with talents like -those- ain't gonna just conveniently take care of themselves.

On the subject of Kakariko Village: Yep, there is.

I don't much mind takin' a bath if you want, but it ain't like I can work soap all that good. You want me to get it done, toss some in the spring and I'll roll around in it fer a while. Dirt don't smell much, but I reckon I get a blood stench to me if I was huntin'.

The Sacred Beast snorts, fixing Zelda with a critical gaze, But y'know, you ALL stink to high heaven to me.

  "Do I? Really? I know almost nothing about you beyond the basics. You live in Ordon Village, although I can't say as to whether or not you were born there. Possibly, but making assumptions is often unwise." Zelda sifts through the pile as she half-distractedly answers him, ignoring his various shows of annoyance or exasperation. "So. We have a goatherd from what is quite nearly the farthest-flung province of Hyrule, chosen by the Goddess Farore to wield the Master Sword, and I might add that the goddesses I personally pray to have made it quite clear that this is no mistake."

  She blows out a sigh, fluttering her hair as she surveys the pile of oddments. "I swear this looks like a monster's midden pile. What is some of this stuff even /doing/ here?"

  "In any case, I have no idea how you normally behave in your ordinary form. I don't know whether /that/ form is affecting your behaviour, either, and if it is, how deeply. The point is that I may know a few details about you, but I wouldn' tnecessarily say that I /know/ you that well. You are, essentially, a well-meaning stranger whose goals happen to dovetail neatly with mine, at least for the time being."

  Zelda chucks another piece of something over her shoulder. It lands dully, as though it had been wood once upon a time, before the ice had fossilized it. "I suppose I should be thankful that this heap doesn't smell," she observes. Near the middle of the pile, something gold glints again, just a whisker closer to being fished out. "There's got to be something useful in all of this."

  Patiently, she sorts through the pile. It really does look like monsters had just heaped this junk up because there was nothing here they could use or eat; it had simply sat there until now, forgotten and neglected. It certainly looks like it sat there all that time, even as the walls were repaired around it.

  The workmen probably wouldn't touch that stuff without being paid time and a half, at /least/.

  Shifting her weight, Zelda reaches into the pile, tossing aside a few more broken oddments. "I agree; ridding the world of that other entity would likely be doing the world a service. Of course, removing Copen from the picture would also be doing the world a service. It was too much to hope that they would take care of each other; the festivities concluded with Copen pointing his weapon at me. Thank Hylia he was too weak and broken for the killing blow. A shield wouldn't have saved me at that range."

  "Pity I wasn't thinking more clearly, or perhaps I could have finished him off, and solved one problem for the day," she mutters, disgustedly. "I missed."

  Zelda half-turns again, studying the wolf-like creature appraisingly. He's considerably bigger than the castle's champion hounds, but he's still fundamentally a dog in form and shape. She shrugs. "It'd probably feel good," she offers, unconcerned. "Having all of that stuck in your pelt has to be uncomfortable, and there's only so much you can do yourself. Oh, I suppose I can bathe you if you like. It would work better than rolling around willy-nilly in the spring."

  The princess tosses another handful of junk over her shoulder. Rivets hit the flagstones with an oddly musical chime, at least until they all blunder into one another once they bounce. "Thank you for that observation; I make a point of bathing every morning, and I am very out of sorts when I cannot stay clean. Wonderful; the Lifegiver has chosen for Hyrule a comedian, yes?" Zelda turns her attention back to the pile of salvage, shrugging one shoulder. "But if the smell is that much of a problem, 'Hero,' you're free to go settle in a less occupied part of the garrison. No one is stopping you, you know."

Okay. Listen.

Link glances at the pile as Zelda sifts through it, I reckon that you people up at the castle live a pretty complicated life. An' I figure that probably has you lookin' out for hidden meanings or what-have-you, and I s'pose that's alright. But I ain't all that complicated, I just kinda go with where the river takes me. Took me to Midna first, and then to you. Prob'ly take me back 'round to some other Princess or Queen. Queen Rutela, I wouldn't wonder. Point is I really don't have the inclination to be pretendin'.

I'd say, this shape makes me a li'l more feral. Lot easier to get lost in a fight. Didn't do that before, but it ain't all that bad. Makes it a little tense when people wanna touch me in the wrong spots, though. Lot of instinct to snap to get 'em away.

He pads over to the pile, looking down at the glint of something-or-another deeper in the pile. Link /would/ grab at it, but he doesn't imagine that it would leave a very good impression just now. So he leaves it alone, observing the flow of discarded things instead.

Plenty of scraps. Probably oughta melt some of it down and use it for other things. The oversized spears could be used for tentpoles, they're 'bout the right size. Metal's probably still decent, all told.

Did -you- miss, or did -he- dodge?

He shakes his head at Zelda's offer, Just gimme soapy water. I ain't very modest but that's too far, even for me, even like this.

Didn't say you were dirty, he replies, just that you all smell strongly. My sniffer's a lot more sensitive'n yours. Link sniffs loudly for emphasis, Plus I'm a goatherd, y'really gotta try to get smelly enough to offend me good and proper. Y'get to the point where the way animals smell is so familiar it's weird when you ain't smellin' it anymore. Then there's the weird stuff out there that really oughtn't have a smell but does.

His eyes narrow, Like ghosts.

It's hard to tell if he's being serious or not.

  "Yes, you do seem rather 'what you see is what you get.'" Zelda doesn't even look up as she makes her observation. She's planning her next attack on the pile, gingerly unhooking what looks like a bunch of crude fish hooks lodged into a sheet of treated hide. She holds it up and frowns at it, as though the offending article were guilty of all the current crises in Hyrule. "Sweet Hylia, what even is this, and why is it here? There aren't even any fish in these streams."

  She sighs, shrugs, and tosses the ruined leather and rusted hooks aside, reaching for the next piece of junk. "I planned on it. The metal is useless for much else; I might be surprised if a few horseshoes or nails can be salvaged from this lot. A dagger, maybe..." Another piece of something gets tossed over her shoulder, to join the smaller pile of 'stuff absolutely beyond saving.' "The soldiers' equipment we can use. That was made with some care. The rest of this..."

  "I missed. He may have also dodged. I'm not certain. I'm afraid I was busy waiting for an opportunity to /run for my life before he could strike/," she adds, through her teeth.

  She shrugs. "Fair enough. You know where to find the soap; no one's stopping you. Do try not to sully the sacred spring too much, though. I know you don't think much of washing your horses in Ordona's spring, but this is different. I /use/ this spring. For ritual and prayer. And as Hyrule's ceremonial leader, even I have my limits."

  There's a long pause. She glances to the window, as though to gauge the time. Late morning, by the shadows falling outside the newly-replaced glass. Some of it is stained; the biggest window in the armoury bears the winged crest of Hyrule's royalty.

  Something in the pile gleams as the sun catches it. She turns, reaching into the pile as something glints again. Grabbing at it, she yanks and shakes until she manages to free whatever-it-is. A lot of long, strappy things resolve themselves into what looks like a large horse's bridle. The leather is actually in decent shape, stained a deep violet; the cheek pieces are plated in gold, gleaming where they aren't filthy. The bridle sports small shields bearing the Hyrulean royal crest; the workmanship is obviously a cut above.

  "Hoh..." Zelda holds the bridle aloft, squinting at it. "If I'm not mistaken, this belonged to my grandmother." She doesn't bother explaining how she knows; she only sets it aside, with reverent care. "If I'm lucky, one of these storage rooms also has a saddle in it to match, if it managed to survive. I wouldn't put tack on that horse of mine just yet, but it's good to know there's at least something here that I can use."

  She looks up to the window again, blue eyes lidding. "What do they smell like?"

Might be someplace nearby that's decent for fishin, Link speculates, or might be they brought it from an awful long way off. Y'don't normally store hooks like that I don't reckon, so if I had to take a stab at it, I'd s'pose that they found the hooks and stuck 'em in there to get them all in one place so they could be done with 'em. Beastfolk don't do much fishin' like we do, they prefer to spearfish. If they use a better tool, it's a net. Easier to work their heads around, y'see?

Anyhow, there's no sense in committing it to somethin' in particular. Melt it down into bars, and have it set aside and stored for when y'need it. Might be patchwork is what you'll be needin' sometime in the future. Or horseshoes, for that matter.

Or y'could sell it.

The wolf nods his understanding of the situation with Copen. It doesn't seem like there's any judgement there to be spoken of-- might be he was actually trying to convince her to step back and look at it less critically, rather than more.

But he doesn't clarify his intentions.

But...

Link tilts his head to one side, both ears forward, Y'said when you were done with it the first time that it wasn't no big thing, usin' that spring. Might be I ain't myself, but I know how to wash off without ruinin' everything about, y'know. Mostly, anyway. Can't say I'd leave it lookin' ugly just for the sake of it.

Concerning ghosts, the Sacred Beast scrunches up his nose a little. It takes him a minute to decide how to say it, A'ight, so y'know how something smells strongly when it's cooked, or... freshly disturbed? Like grass after it's rained. Well, ghosts smell like really pungent earth, or soil. Grave dirt, I reckon? Usually got a little bit of somethin' else with 'em, but it ain't the same from ghost to ghost.

Blood. Cold. Rot. If it's a nasty one, it's always got a second smell. If it's not, usually just earth.

He squints over towards the recovered bridle.

You reckon she left it here on purpose? He asks.

  Glancing to one side, Zelda eyes the fish hooks, as though considering whether or not they might be salvageable. Nets are the most efficient way to do it; hooks are for wasting an afternoon, and spears are for monsters who don't have the patience or dexterity to weave nets.

  They're rusted all to hell. Probably better to just melt the things.

  "The most economical option would be to have it smelted into ingots, and save them until they're needed." Zelda tosses another piece of metal into the pile. "Selling them won't make a difference. The ore is of such inferior quality that it would never fetch a worthwhile price."

  Shifting her weight, the princess climbs to her feet and stretches the stiffness from her spine. She ignores the comment on the spring. Maybe she's just exhausted and irritable; rattled after the situation last night, and facing down the barrel of Copen's gun for a second time.

  She takes in the comment on ghostly smells in silence, looking back at the scruffy-looking bridle thoughtfully. One might have the impression she's a thousand miles away for a few seconds -- until he asks about the thing she's looking at.

  "Hm?" Zelda looks up, blinking owlishly. "I can't say I know. She may have left it here. It may have been made for her, and she never used it. You've probably guessed by now, but my grandmother kept a lot of secrets." She shakes her head, slowly. "I'm still picking apart many of them. One of them is why this place even exists. Was she afraid of some kind of attack? Why post soldiers in this miserable little ball of slush so far away from the rest of the kingdom? It was built to withstand a siege, but who in their right mind would even bother to attack it?" She shrugs. "None of this really matters, mind you, but something about it just doesn't set right to me."

It ain't gotta be great to fetch a decent price. But you're right. We oughta hold onto it. Link agrees, In fact, I can think of a use for 'em when I'm back to normal. It ain't a lot of metal but it'd do for a few arrowheads, and I can always make use of a few more arrows. You too, I'll warrant. Don't use up too much in the way of the metal, and we got plenty of wood to work with. Feathers aint' hard to come by either, s'pecially since I can sniff out the birds just fine.

Actually, it's pretty hard resistin' chasin' 'em sometimes, to tell you the truth.

A faint whine escapes the great wolf as Zelda lapses into silence. He can't tell if he's just approaching her all wrong or if she's just distressed by what happened. There isn't all that much he can do about it-- 'til he's there with her for an encounter with that madman, she'll probably always be escaping by the skin of her teeth. Link doesn't know how much better he could possibly do.

If at all.

Zelda's answer concerning her grandmother elicits a thoughtful rumble from his throat-- almost, but not quite a growl. The intent is clearly not hostile though.

You told me she always seemed ta know more'n she let on, and kept plenty of secrets. Well, a lotta bad stuff happened years before we were born. Maybe she had a good reason to make a hideway, but I think that more likely...

The Sacred Beast rises from his sitting position, padding around the room interestedly, She just wanted someplace to go and be left alone. Ain't many better places for that than this, an' if she had some fool of a duke do it as a fake vanity project it wouldn't attract many eyes.

Or maybe she did know. The Goddesses talk to your family, not mine, so I don't reckon I know what that's like but y'hear about prophets sometimes. Maybe she was a real one.

  "Waste not, want not," Zelda proclaims, serenely. "It may be inferior, but it may be the difference between success or failure. They'll make serviceable arrowheads. Those don't need to be perfect. Yes, I can also fletch; I learned to do it when I learned to shoot. You never know when you'll need more arows."

  She smooths out her trousers over her thigh, although they hardly need smoothing. Her attention wanders back to the window and the late morning sun.

  Zelda shakes her head as though to clear it.

  "Maybe she did. Maybe not. I have no way to know." The princess strides over to the window, resting her palms on the sill and slumping against it a little. "I have a feeling that before this is through, I'm going to have to unravel some of her mysteries. That they're involved in these crises, somehow. I can't prove it... but that's what I feel about it."

  Blowing out a sigh, she looks out over the ravine beyond the window, and the sun just sliding over the ridge. "It's possible that the aristocrat who built this place was only a front for her activities, or that there really was an aristocrat, and she compelled them to build this place, somehow."

  Tilting her head to one side, Zelda lets her eyes fall closed. Her neck cracks. It's not very regal. She looks like she absolutely doesn't care. "I think if anyone knew if something was coming, it was her. Yes, she spoke to the goddesses... and they spoke to her. She had the gift of prophecy more surely than I do, or ever will. I don't know. I'm going to have to think on it. But right now..."

  "Link." The princess turns away from the sill, hands trailing until they fall at her side. Gathering up the bridle, she dusts it off a little. "I'm going to put this back in the stable, and then I'm going to sleep. Wake me if anything important happens."

  Harness jingling, she drapes the bridle over her shoulder and pads out of the room, provided she isn't stopped. Her movements have the air of one already half-asleep; eyes a little out of focus, shadows beneath them.

Link pads after Zelda wordlessly. He has no reason to be here by himself, and there is little enough left to say about all the things they discussed just now. But there's still something nagging at the back of his mind-- the way she said she was planning on surrendering the throne to somebody more capable. How much distance she was putting between the pair of them during this discussion. Why-- is there a specific purpose to it, or was he just mis-stepping all over the place?

Or maybe...

Zelda.

He remains alongside her as she deposits the the bridle in the stable, and on towards her quarters, I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so maybe I just don't get it. But it seems t'me like you're driftin' away, an' you can't afford to do that. If you want me well enough away you need'ta wait until you don't really need me anymore. But besides that...

You aren't like us. You being where you are ain't a mistake, and if I'm right and what you said before is true, I don't think you could give your crown away if you tried. Still...

The only way you wouldn't be good enough, is if y'thought you were after all this. I'll bark if anythin' comes up.

The Sacred Beast settles down outside Zelda's door once she passes inside, and remains there to keep watch.

  Zelda remains silent along the corridor. Snowpeak Garrison's quarters are along its sides, tucked among other chambers that serve to shield them in the event of siege, and shelter them from the wind. Zelda's turned it into an office that happens to have a bed in it. It's clearly more meant for working than sleeping.

  The princess doesn't look up when she 'hears' her name. She doesn't even break stride, padding purposefully but unhurriedly towards her quarters. She listens, but it's with a distant and tired air.

  She does spare a half-hearted rub at her horse's ear when he shoves his nose in her general direction. He's mellowed out considerably, helped by gentleness and patience on Zelda's part. She wouldn't try to ride him just yet... but he isn't unsalvageable.

  She turns and looks at him not when he calls her by her name, nor even when he explains his thoughts; it's mention of the crown that draws her tired gaze.

  There's a blankness there that speaks to her exhaustion -- but deeper beneath that is the pain; all the frustration and grief she tries so hard to keep locked away. She lost her only family, the day Zant stormed Hyrule Castle; she hasn't even had a chance to grieve.

  No rest for the weary or the wicked.

  "Thank you, Link." Her voice is soft and low, as she pushes the door open on oiled hinges. "I suppose it colours everything, no matter my own intentions..." Her voice cracks, as in one near the end of their endurance; she must be exhausted just as she claims.

  She pauses, as though she were going to say more, but only shakes her head, tucking stray hair behind a pointed ear.

  Zelda frowns thoughtfully, and shuts the door a moment later, shaking her head.

  After a moment the door opens just wide enough to clear a Sacred Beast's whiskers, to slip around the solid timbers if he wants to be there.