World Tree MUSH

  The day has come to lift the Chosen Hero's curse.

  After battling the Twilight Messenger, the princess has spent her time resting. Her colour and strength have gradually come back to her. In the interim, she's found a better place to camp; the library on the first floor sports a big hearth, no holes, and plenty of books to occupy time with. She had also found a temple dedicated to Hylia across the hall. 

  The princess had risen before the sun this morning, leaving a terse but neatly-penned note. She would be in the temple across the hall, and requested Link and Rydia's presence, at the very least. Observers were welcome. It was signed with a simple abbreviated glyph that in English would be the letter 'Z.'

  The temple itself is a rectangular room with three rows of wooden benches lining the back wall. The front is a natural stone basin worn silk-smooth by past artisans, waist depth, fed by a warm spring once Zelda had found the natural stone intake and cleared it of debris. The rime of ice over the water has melted; clouds of mineral-scented steam shroud the surface, soothingly warm.

  At the front of the room is a large pedestal. Standing over that is a statue some ten feet tall of the Goddess Hylia. The deity's eyes are downcast, lips curved in a benign Mona Lisa smile, clad in a billowing dress. Her hair, carved very long, is braided meticulously. Feathered wings round out the lines of her shoulders. Before the statue is the deepest point of the basin, which is broad enough for three or four to stand abreast.

  Zelda stands in the deepest part of the basin, clad in a ceremonial white dress not unlike Hylia's. Bought in Kaipo and embroidered on the road, symbols of the royal family and the goddesses cover the front and back, while the hems of its billowing sleeves and ankle are also stitched in symbols. It's wet; she's immersed herself at least once already in the water of the spring.

  She'd spent the morning washing off the dust of travel in a basin of melted snow, scrubbing her skin raw and scrubbing her hair until it had been limp. Only then had she allowed herself to wrap herself in something dry, take what ritual implements she needed, cross the hall, and wade into the sacred spring, once cleansed. No one was to bathe in the wonderfully hot water. Not even herself. She had been very clear about that.

  Now, hair long and loose, the princess murmurs prayers as she faces the Goddess Statue, and after clasping her hands and bowing to it, she sinks gracefully to one knee, leans forward, and immerses herself once more. Water streams from her hair as she straightens.

  Rydia's task is simple, aside from having helped the princess clean herself up earlier. She's to help the princess bind her hair in the same way as the statue, much as when she had first met Rydia; meticulously simple, interwoven with ribbons. It's not half as easy as it looks.

  As she waits for Rydia to begin tackling the mess that is 'her hair,' the princess draws in a deep breath through her nose, slowly, and releases it through her barely-open mouth, breath whistling softly through her teeth. It's a deep breath; a calming breath.

  All that remains now is to finish those preparations, answer what questions the others might have, and then begin the ritual itself once their four-legged guest of honour appears.

The Sacred Beast wasn't there that morning. He comes wandering back into the grounds, dragging another White Wolfos carcass with him. This one is a little cleaner than the last one. It looks like he managed to break its neck without tearing its throat out, which is in itself a mild wonder. You might wonder how he managed this-- and you would continue to wonder, because he neither says or thinks a word about it. He buried it in the snow just outside the entrance of the Manor-house, and went inside.

It takes him a while to find the note. By extension, it takes him a while to to make his way towards the Temple. Link is still dripping snow by the time he reaches the temple, evidently unaware that any of it had fallen upon him. He headbutts the door open and looks around.

It is at the exact moment that Link looks towards the basin, sees Zelda standing there in a perfectly good dress in the middle of the water, that Link firmly decides that he will never ever completely understand what's going on with the Princess or the things that she does, and he should simply accept all oddities as witchy nonsense.

Is this sorcery? Link wonders aloud, We use OUR spring to clean the horses.

This is both completely true and probably some form of blasphemy. The hicks of Ordona very clearly have no conception of these rituals however, or at the very least don't care enough to have kept up any sort of understanding of them.

    That piping hot water is so tempting. But Rydia does not go against the princess' edict, as much as a hot bath sounds enticing.
    The Summoner has forsaken her Wolfos fur cloak for her lighter robes. The warmth radiating from the pool doing enough to keep her warm as she arrives with the ribbons and takes just a moment to prepare herself, mentally, for the task laid out before her. The fact of the matter is... Zelda has a lot of hair to work with.
    Standing at the edge of the pool, once Zelda is done baptising herself in the sacred pool does the green-haired Summoner gingerly reach forward, beginning the process of weaving the princess' hair as best she can, biting on one corner of her lip as she sets her focus on the proper braiding, occasionally peeking up to the statue to make sure she does it properly.

    One nice thing about people gathering, it's easy to keep the room warm since everyone is clustered together! Less trouble with resources. And the warm water makes that even easier. So for no other reason, it's good to stay warm here in the snowed in shelter.

    This isn't the only reason he's here, though. Blain old curiosity, plus some security in case something bad happens. Cecil, the knight in question, isn't sure if his own natural Dark Knight aura will interfere with the ritual though, so he lingers away from most of the others, watching Zelda and Rydia curiously while giving a small nod of greeting to Link. "Are you sure you feel up to this, you two?" They should be healed up by now, but he has to make sure.

  Steam rises in clouds and softens the lines of the temple. With a few repairs, it's easy to see how this space would be peaceful, welcoming the weary traveller. Hylia is a benevolent and tolerant goddess. Her temples are places of respite.

  "You have no servants of the Goddess in your village." Zelda regards Link from the corner of a blue eye, careful not to move her head. Her observation is a statement more than a question. Her eyes slide closed again. "I'll pretend you didn't just tell me that. And no. This is augury. I must learn how to lift this curse with the blessings of Her Grace."

  She opens her eyes, brow furrowing slightly. "As I am now... I'm sorry, Link. I don't think that I have the strength to restore you. But I can at least find answers, and learn the path that needs to be taken to finish the job. If I feel it's within reach, I promise you that I will try."

  Cecil earns a faint look from the corner of an eye. "As much as I can be," she says, a little resignedly. "What binds him is obscenely powerful. It is by far more powerful than what I know of the usurper's magic, though even that was enough to overpower me, at the time. I must know what lies at the heart of that corruption... what threatens to devour my beloved kingdom; my /home/."

  "A little tighter," she adds, gently, to Rydia. "The ribbon will fall out, otherwise, but you're doing a fine job." Her eyes drift shut again, as much lulled by the warmth as to gather her concentration. Her silence is broken only by the rippling of water as she shifts her weight.

  "Speaking honestly, I don't know what this thing is going to do once I begin prodding at it in earnest." She sounds a little quiet. "But I have to know."

    Aside from still looking pale, Rydia is... Alright.
    "I'm fine. It was just exhaustion." She quietly asides to Cecil. Summoning Ramuh had taken a lot out of her, just like the time she had called Titan, and it shows. Though beyond braiding Zelda's hair she's still not too sure about what is fully expected of her as an attendant to this ritual. She had been given a primer on her duties, but that doesn't mean the girl can't be a little nervous as she follows instruction and binds the princess' hair more tightly as instructed.
    But Zelda and Link are speaking- or at least communicating in their own way. She may not be able to discern Link's thoughts, but she hears Zelda's side of the conversation and it only makes curiosity bubble to the surface.
    "Pretend he didn't tell you what?"

A growling whine leaves the Sacred Beast in answer to Cecil's questioning of Rydia and Zelda's condition. The feeling behind it isn't too hard to decipher-- a sort of, 'They'll do-as-they-will.' Internally, he doesn't imagine that they have that much buffer time to work with. Link supposes it must be only a matter of time before the mage-slayer or some other enemy catches up with them. Cecil and Rydia even have their own problems to contend with-- and Link would be little enough surprised if those problems came trailing after them.

There's no time to sit and think. Once minimum power is achieved to push forward, it needs to be used. Or else...

If there is any surprise at the notion that Zelda won't be able to cure him right away, Link doesn't show it. He simply falls back on a topic he knows he can meaningfully interact with: Don't reckon the Goddesses would put a healin' spring somewhere and have a problem with it when it gets used to heal somethin' what's hurt. They made us all, y'know?

Horses. In holy springs. Inhabited by Light Spirits

Link barks at Rydia in answer to her question, offering up a Big Doggy Grin. He can't share the particulars, but it's not hard to extrapolate some wiseassery from all of this.

    Wait, Zelda doesn't know what's going to happen? Cecil tenses, and puts his hand on his sword, before forcing himself to relax. This is holy magic, so even if it goes awry, it probably won't blow everyone up. Instead he manages to hear what Zelda and Rydia are chatting about ignoring, and that gets a raised eyebrow.

    "If something goes terribly wrong, I'll be right over here," Cecil notes. "I don't want my uh... aura... messing with the ritual."

  Zelda regards the ancient statue through half-closed eyes. The serenity of the temple is at odds with the anxiety buzzing through her nerves; the wolf, at least, can sense some of her silent unease.

  The idea of provoking this dark magic is disquieting. She doesn't know how it might react. All she can do now is appeal to her goddesses.

  Letting her eyes close, Zelda concentrates on the warmth of the water, the tickle of steam against her face, and the faint tug against her hair as Rydia meticulously pleats each braid together. She does not focus on the buzzing unease in her gut, or the way her hands are trembling.

  She curls her hands into loose fists to hide their tremor.

  "Evidently, Ordon Village uses its sacred spring to... wash the horses." Zelda is absurdly proud of herself for not grimacing when she says that. "But sacred springs do have healing properties, and I suppose you're right," she adds, for Link's benefit. "Her Grace wouldn't have made it if she didn't want it being used."

  But it still sounds kind of cringeworthy at first blush, using a sacred place of worship to wash one's dusty, muddy horse out.

  Zelda starts to turn her head a little at Cecil's statement until she remembers to catch herself. Oops. Sorry, there, Rydia. "Thank you, Sir Cecil. It's distracting, but I don't mind. The two of you aren't familiar with Her Grace, or the Goddesses, or anything else to do with the realm of Hyrule's spirits, but..." Her voice drops a little. "I'm glad you're here."

  "Let me know when you're almost finished, Rydia." Zelda's statement is soft, not much more than a breath. "I'm ready to begin."

Link is busily daydreaming about being able to actually talk to these people just now. It's not going to happen tonight, apparently-- which was probably too much to hope for to begin with. But he'd have liked to have told the knight that being surrounded by darkness hardly matters if you're going to act that way. If the Goddesses aren't blistering morons, they should be able to see the character behind the power. Besides, sometimes you need the darkness. Was the world without night?

Instead of that complex train of thought, Cecil gets a bark of agreement that follows Zelda's expression of gladness for his presence.

    Uh oh. There's that big dog grin. By this point Rydia has come to a certain understanding about the Sacred Beast.
    If he were in human form, she would probably get along famously with his epic level of smart aleckry.
    "I thought you just said you'd forget he said that." She counters Zelda's answer in a light tease. "Though uh. Even I think that's a bit of a stretch for how to use a sacred spring.
    But Cecil backs up.
    "Mn. You should be fine, Cecil. I think. You're not a bad person. I think."
    One last tug and tightened braid and... "Done."

    Cecil just nods his head. "With any luck, I won't be the only blade at your side soon enough. Speaking of such... good luck, for as much as one calling upon goddesses needs that." He smiles, and though relaxed more now, he keeps his hand near his sword. Can't be too careful.

    "Thank you, Rydia. I think." Hey, that is only fair! "I'm just being cautious. Rosa never had a problem with me."

  There's a reason the princess is comfortable in the presence of her travelling companions. No matter their issues or their situations, they're all good people. Even the guy who radiates darkness and evil is not actually a bad person. Actually, she's had phenomenal luck with travelling companions, all things considered.

  "You did ask," Zelda asides over her shoulder, to Rydia's tease. "Anyway, it isn't really in my power to tell Ordon Village what they can or can't do with the sacred spring. That lies with Her Grace and the Spirits of Light who serve her. He has a point: The sacred springs have healing properties, and the goddesses wouldn't create such a thing if it weren't to be used."

  The princess waits an instant after Rydia says she's finished, just to be sure the ribbon is tied off. It wouldn't do to move and tug everything loose, but it holds, and she manages the first smile she's shown all day; she turns, clasping her hands before herself, and bows to Rydia. "Thank you, Rydia. And thank you, Sir Cecil."

  "Oh." Zelda pauses. "You're all welcome to use the spring, after this. I only needed the spring untouched so I might complete this ritual. I have need of every advantage; my answers must be clear, today." Her fleeting smile is apologetic.

  Her expression then falls to neutrality; the kind of mask that one wears to hide their own nerves.

  It's down to business, then.

  The princess bows her head to the Goddess Statue, the ends of her hair trailing in the water. Her hands she clasps before her heart.

  "O She who poured forth Her essence onto Din's red earth," Zelda intones softly, "and gave the spirit of law unto Hyrule." Her eyes fall half-closed, unfocused, like one in a trance. Her words are an ancient dialect of Hylian, but it's not so far removed that Link can't understand it. "O She who looks after Her children justly, and with wisdom, whose blessed eyes see the truth. I beg of You, Author of Law; I pray to You, and invoke Your name, as the daughter of Hylia, as one tasked to safeguard her people, to grant me Your truths."

  She draws in a slow breath through her nose, releasing it through barely-parted lips. It trembles just slightly, but it's so subtle it could be missed.

  "Please hear the prayer of Your humble servant."

  The princess glides one step deeper into the spring, toward the Goddess Statue, and stops. The immersed hem of her dress billows around her ankles.

  "Please." The formality of the language falls away. "Grant me the wisdom to lift the curse that binds the Chosen Hero that You have sent to us in our hour of need. I do not know what manner of magic binds him to this form, but it is born of a great and terrible evil, and my efforts are not strong enough alone."

  Is something supposed to happen? The only sound is the faint rippling of water every time the princess moves.

  Silence settles over the temple.

  "At my side, please, Link," Zelda whispers, though her quiet is more out of concentration than anything else. "It is time."

As requested, Link moves from near the door up towards Zelda. He isn't really certain where he's meant to be until that exact moment, so he just kept his distance. He's an animal that just came in from killing something, after all. If a bunch of mystical advantages require cleanliness and all of this chanting and old-dialect talk, he certainly wasn't going to be helpful marching in with a mouthfull of rot and fur covered in snow. Still, he does as he's told.

For a moment he hesitates at the edge of the spring. Is this close enough, or is he supposed to actually be in there? Link decides that it's better to just go in already, if all the ritual-working is done taking her that literally isn't really a problem. The warmth of the water is nice-- he can't blame her for warning them against using it before now.

If he'd come across it, he might have sat in here for a while just because it's nice and comfortable.

Though he's a little concerned now with making it smell like wet dog. This is an inevitable consequence of the Sacred Beast splashing through the water, even if he is high enough not to be submerged. He raises his head to look towards Zelda.

His look is of the I-hope-this-is-worth-it variety.

It already smells like wet dog in the Temple.

    The bow that Rydia returns to Zelda is a little awkward, but she backs up from the pool to let the princess begin the ritual.
    And hide her expression at the wet dog smell as the ceremony commences.

    Wet dog, wonderful. Oh well, can't be helped. Cecil chuckles, remaining some distance away... but he's edged a little closer, curious now to see the goings on. THis sort of curse isn't something he's ever heard of, at least nothing so extreme, so he does have something of a professional interest.

    He does have to rub at his nose though. At least he isn't in full armor, opting for just the chain shirt under the armored suit for this. In case he has to jump into the water, that could be important.

  Nothing seems to happen for a long moment. The temple is silent. No wind skirls in through its holes. The only sound to disrupt the silence is the sloshing of springwater.

  Light blooms over the statue, as though there were a hole clear through to the sun. Dust motes seem to dance in the light depsite the steam. It reflects off the water and over the observers. There is a faint sensation through the temple; spiritual, though not physical. A sense of acknowledgement, and also a sense of welcome.

  Link alone receives something more; a voice ringing in his mind, though no longer fierce as white fire. It's soft as the breeze over Ordon's hills, or the rain pattering on the leaves of its trees. There's a sense of sad affection in the words.

  I know who you are... or at least a piece of you, reborn through the ages...

  But Hylia doesn't elabourate. Zelda doesn't seem to have heard whatever it is Her Grace said to the Sacred Beast.

  Zelda is holding her breath, though she gives Link a barely-perceptible nod. Slowly, she reaches out to hold a hand over his head, but she doesn't touch him. The crest of the Triforce at the back of her hand flares, golden light; her mouth twists into a slash of what might be surprise or pain, eyes hard.

  "Oh, Link." It's no more than a breath. "What has he done to you?"

  Terrible things.

  Cecil, meanwhile, receives a sense of... some kind of detached curiosity. Hylia may no longer be a goddess, but she still lives on through the blood of her descendants; her consciousness still periodically looking out on the land she had loved.

  Her question to him is no more than a breath, curious.

  What manner of man are you, who wields the darkness and acts on the light...?

  There's no telling whether it's rhetorical or not.

  Zelda leans forward, sinking to one knee in the water. This sinks her almost to the middle of her ribs, but she doesn't seem to care. She reaches out to lay her hands, tentatively, on the great wolf's shoulders. Her fingers are splayed and her eyes fall closed.

  She can see it, in her mind's eye. The curse that binds him up so tightly is like chains that shackle his spirit; like the remains of the manacle that clinks around his wrist. The princess' brow furrows as she looks deeper. Where did it come from? Under whose hand has it been guided? It can't be Zant's power alone. Zant is a coward and a bully, inelegant and uncreative; this speaks of a much more focused purpose, and a great deal more power and cruelty.

  Zelda's eyelids flicker, but she doesn't move.

  Link might feel it, then -- all the crackling energy of the Goddess Hylia, focused on his very being. Zelda makes no effort to try and gentle the blow. She simply channels everything she can reach for, trying to pour that energy into whatever weak points lie in the curse's weave. It's like a textile, in her mind's eye, that surrounds and covers Link; if she can find where it frays and pull at those threads, maybe they have some hope.

  Sweat beads on her brow, although it's lost in the steam. Through his fur he can likely feel heat from her palms. Her fingers are glowing, and the crest of the Triforce is blazing in white-gold light.

  "It's strong... but I... can see." Her eyelids are still flickering; she doesn't open her eyes, mouth twisted as though in effort. "He's using... he's using another power. It's not his. Stronger than him. I know his magic. I felt it. Was thrown aside like a child's toy by it. This isn't it."

  She opens her eyes, but they aren't summer-blue. They're the crisp, deep, endless blue of an autumn sky, or a clear ocean. The pupils seem curiously faint. An aspect of the Goddess; a visual clue that she's drawing on serious power. "I'm sorry. Please bear with it for a few minutes more. I'm almost finished. I think--"

  There. Zelda can see in her mind's eye the tear. Her eyes flutter closed, but her hands don't relinquish their grip; her fingers tighten and close on hanks of fur. Her jaw sets.

  "I'm sorry," she hisses. "This may hurt."

  Probably.

  In her mind's eye, she seizes the loose thread she finds, the tear, and she wrenches at it for all she's worth. She pours energy into the weak point; beseeches Hylia and Hyrule's creator-goddesses and even the silent Spirits of Light for their power.

  He might feel a change. A loosening around his heart; an easing of the beast's instincts that have driven him for so long. It's like a shackle opening and falling away. A breath of fresh air...

Hey.

There is a difference between the three of them. The King, the Princess, the Knight. There has always been a difference between them of course, but there are differences and then there are differences.

    The King always remembers.
    The Princess always understands.
    But the Knight...

In his mind's eye, Link considers the voice speaking to him with distant, genial curiosity. He looks out from behind the eyes of the wolf with vague wonder, but he does not and cannot remember. The King is always the King in whole; the Princess, always bits and pieces carried down through the blood. But the Knight is not the Knight; could not be the Knight, without first being the boy.

And the Knight cannot be the boy if he does not forget. So they are of a different spirit, shod in like flesh. The old knight rattles in darkness just out of sight, watching in near-silence.

Heyyyy... I can see the resemblance! says the Knight, and only he could have. The King reviles, and knows better; The Princess is hardly ever so coarse as to make the remark.

Outside of his own mind... the Sacred Beast is silent. His eyes are out of focus. He does not react to Zelda kneeling.

What're you-- oh, it's not you exactly...

It doesn't hurt, in the end. Link isn't certain about exactly why that is -- it hurt when he transformed the first time. But then, maybe it was just because undoing the act was a different sort of movement than doing it to begin with. Good magic needn't be without its pains, but this one is. But his shard of the Triforce does not act. There is no golden glow, no lessening of the burden.

The first thing he thinks as he sees it taking shape is that it's like a bird cage. It winds its way a strangely gloomy light that ran through his body, enveloping and encompassing and trapping it.

It does not remove it. It cannot remove it.

A thread winds from the cage of light into his heart, coiling about it before fading away. The curse is caged-- it is not lifted. Zelda can't tell exactly how long the cage will last.

Link falls backward onto his ass with a splash. He looks up at Zelda, then raises both hands to look at them. Tugs on an earring. Pinches his lip.

"Hell yes, I have hands again!" Is the first thing out of Link's mouth. He blinks at the sound of his own voice. That's just bizarre. Just like that he bolts to his feet-- aaaand gets hit with a horrible wave of nausea and promptly falls right back down in the water.

"Oh. Gonna haveta get used to that again, I reckon."

"Hey Queenie, are you okay? Every time you do that glowy thing it really knocks y'flat." A strange tug drags at the back of Link's... soul? He's not sure. A steady drain, like something is emptying all his energy reserves. Zelda -- if she's in any fit state to see it -- can tell what's going on. The caging spell isn't sustained by her magic at all -- it's leeching off of Link's internal magical reserves.

They're not /small/, even though he's not using them, but they're not as deep as hers. The cage will be undone soon. Hours. A day or two, maybe.

    Again, Cecil tenses, but this time he isn't grabbing at his sword. No, this is the tension of worry for health and the like, worried for both Zelda and Link now. The amount of power in the air can't help but make him nervous, and if this should fail it would also be a pretty bad indication of what sort of curse they were up against.

    But that doesn't happen. As far as he can tell, the ritual works, and Link splashes down looking... well, maybe not human, but as humanlike as Zelda herself is. He can't help but laugh, partly in relief, and partly at the casual way in which the young hero addresses his Queen.

    "Are you two all right?" Cecil steps forward fully at last, offering a hand to either Zelda or Link... depending on if Zelda needs a hand. "It's good to see your real shape. And to be able to understand you. Welcome back?"

>> GAME >> Zelda spends an Edge for: Temporary curse-lifting shenanigans.

  There is a last knot of resistance, and the princess gathers herself, pouring her effort into the task. She pleads with Hylia in silence, begging for her strength and resolve.

  The temple lurches around her; the steam seems to blur things beyond recognition.

  Zelda hits the water with a surprisingly loud splash, but immersion seems to trigger the reflex to keep from going face-first into the water. She splutters as she pushes herself back to her feet, staggers a half-step sideways, but all she can do is sit down hard beside the now-human Link. Her dress swirls in the water; she huffs a shaky breath. Her eyes are wholly unfocused.

  She squeezes her eyes shut, in part to block out the sudden garishness of the light, in part to silence the thundering in her ears. There's a thin trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth; she lifts an arm, swiping it out of the way and letting her hand fall back into the water with a splash. She doesn't open her eyes; in fact keeps them squeezed shut.

  "I think I want to pass out," Zelda observes, in a thin and reedy tone. "I... I don't think I'm going to. I'm... I'll be alright, Sir Cecil. It's always exhausting... to call on the goddesses." Her unsteady smile is apologetic. "Thank you," she adds to the offered hand, "but I think I'll be alright."

  She shakes her head as though to clear it, easing her eyes open. Spots still dance at the corner of her vision. Slowly, carefully, she pushes herself to her feet, hair and dress both streaming water. She wavers a moment before finding her balance. And then she sits right the hell back down again, because the alternative is to fall over sideways in the water. Okay, maybe she'll just wait a minute before getting up.

  Looking to Link, she studies his proper Hylian form with curiosity, only slightly unfocused. No, he doesn't look familiar... only in the most vague sense; a nagging sense. "It's nice... to finally meet you, Link."

"Aw, I'm alright! Just got too used to four legs an' a tail." Link replies, giving Zelda first choice on being helped up if she needs it. If she doesn't, he's not about to decline. He understands that he's pretty bad on his feet just now. He scratches the back of his head for the first time in... how long has it even been? He doesn't know. Hasn't been counting. It was damned uncomfortable, having to lay down and find something to rub against. Hands are the best.

"Nice to meetcha-- for real, this time. Kinda? Y'know what I mean." He sniffs loudly. The air up here is colder than the spring in winter. In fact... Link is really starting to regret being in this spring at all. It's going to be hell when he gets out.

Shaking off a hand so it's not quite so miserably wet, Link takes Cecil's hand and gets to his feet. He doesn't climb out of the spring immediately, though. Partially because it's just too fucking cold, and partially because-- well. Zelda's right there.

"Thanks." He says.

Then he turns to survey Zelda. Link rolls a shoulder and takes a moment to stretch a little-- making certain he's found his balance. Whatever toll this is taking on Zelda, it certainly isn't taking it on /him/. Whatever weariness he feels is orders of magnitudes less severe.

"Yep! Agreed. Stay still."

Link bends over and picks Zelda up like she was a particularly oversized pillow. There's almost effort to it at all. He kicks his sandals off as he steps out of the spring -- they're soaked, and have goat fur in them besides which just makes them an unholy mess -- jerking his head towards the door.

"C'mon, you two. Ain't the place to sit and rest. Talkin's for the hearth."

Link thinks nothing at all of just picking Zelda up and carrying her off. He turns his head to natter at Cecil while he does it, "Y'got a really nice sword technique! I was right disappointed I couldn't fight with you proper. Hard to put up a good sword and a shield as a wolf, y'know? Guess I could stick the sword in my mouth, but that's all kinds of uncomfortable..."

"Tho'," he muses aloud, "them witchy types. That /lightning/."

Link whistles appreciatvely.

    If his help is waved away by Zelda, Cecil won't press it, and turns his attention to hauling Link to his feet. "I get what you mean!" Cecil is often formal, but the good news of this working - he doesn't know it's temporary yet - has put him in a jovial mood that is just enhanced by Link's grin. "Maybe we can get a little practice in, but first..."

    Yes. When Link scoops up Zelda, Cecil laughs, and hurries to get the door. "Yes, let's get a fire going and get everyone dried off! In this cold, well... that's the best place to catch up."

  Most of the conversation between Dark Knight and Chosen Hero is background noise. The princess is still concentrating on not passing out. Passing out in water would be bad. In fact, she's just about to push herself to her feet to start staggering that way.

  She never gets the chance.

  Zelda yelps -- the sound is loud in the otherwise quiet temple -- as she's scooped up and uncerimoniously carried like a sack of flour.

  There comes no divine retribution. There's not even any royal retribution. Zelda just leans on him, too exhausted to fight or raise a fuss about decorum. She doesn't weigh much, even soaked. Even if she were putting up a fight it wouldn't even be trivial for him to ignore it.

  Thankfully she doesn't. She shudders as she's lifted out of the water, because it's /cold/, but she doesn't fight being carried over to the library. "Thank you," she breathes, instead. Her eyes flick back to Cecil.

  "I'd like to watch," she says, on the two warriors practising. "Maybe I can even learn something. Heh..." Her laugh is wan at best. She's paler than she should be, but maybe a fire will perk her up a bit. Zelda makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat, and her head leans against Link's shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. The strength seems to leach out of her; she goes limp against him, head still resting on the goatherd-turned-hero's shoulder.

  There won't be anything out of the princess for the rest of the night.

  Pity. She really had wanted to talk to him now that they could actually converse.

"Ahh, we'll get a good fight in after I've dried off and had a little something to eat. I brought a wolfos in, so we oughta be able to make a decent meal outta that once we've gotten everythin' else settled." Link replies to Cecil, still grinning like a fiend all the while. His stomach growls -- probably not audibly, moving through the corridors like this.

He settles Zelda down in the library, in front of the fire-- but he can tell that she's not long for the waking world. It wouldn't do to leave her to her own devices after she drained herself so much to put him back to normal. Knowing their luck, something would wander in at exactly that time.

"Sure thing." He says to her.

Link settles next to the fire himself, and nods towards Cecil, "Well, we /do/ got some catchin' up to do... and we ain't gettin' any practice in yet if she wants to see it. May as well get some questions outta the way instead..."

    If Zelda is fine with it, then Cecil won't complain about the carry that Link does. He'll step on ahead to clear the doors instead... what doors survive after this place was ravaged by time. Maybe they can hire a contractor or something...

    Anyway, he glances back to Link, "I don't think I'd want to thrust you into swordplay, even practice, right after you changed back anyway. There might be lingering disorientation. We can all eat and relax a little first, right? Plenty of time to chat over dinner and things."

    Cecil looks particularly to Zelda. "And I know one /other/ person who has been pushing herself and could use some food, I'm sure."

    Look, even Cecil can mother hen a little when his allies keep falling over from exhaustion.