Work Text:
“Go on, get in there.”
Bringing his steed to a halt, Link hopped off and pushed the stall door shut. Twenty pairs of eyes stared into his blue ones, and angry bleats protested. The rancher plopped his arms on top of the door and rested his chin on them. “Sorry guys, don’t wanna get caught in this, do you?”
Thunder rumbled as if to appeal for Link’s case.
“Ahh, they don’t know what’s good for ‘em,” said a tall, burly man. Fado, the head of the ranch, shook his head and laughed at the goats. He had a rather large nose and small eyes. “Stupid animals. More trouble than they’re worth, I swear.” A strong gust of wind unsteadied him for a moment, and he placed a large hand atop the stall door. “You ready to lock this thing up and get outta here?” the man said, twirling a metal stake between his fingers.
Link nodded, hoisting himself against the door. Three metal rings lined up; two on the door, one on the doorframe. Fado slipped the stake through the holes, then shook the door back and forth. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the mechanism he created to lock the door. “Yeah, that should do the job,” Fado said, giving the door a small kick as though he was demonstrating its punishment should the lock fail.
The two looked over the now empty field, its rich green hue strongly contrasting the dark grey of the sky. The trees of Faron Woods, which bordered the north side of Ordon Village, waved frantically in the wind.
“Link! Fado!”
Through the ranch’s gate, Link saw a small boy running toward them. His blonde hair, cropped short, was many shades brighter than his own dirty blonde.
“Guys, my dad says this storm looks nasty, you should hurry.” He raised his arms out wide. “This wind is strong!” A strong gust rustled his hair and he laughed.
“Thanks, Colin,” Fado yelled over the howling of the wind. He hoisted the giggling boy up on his large shoulders. “Let’s get going then.” Fado began to jog across the field. Colin looked back at Link, smiling and waving.
“Hurry!”
Link smiled and waved back. “Alright, girl, let’s go,” he said, turning around. Behind him stood his horse, Epona. Mahogany brown hair with a bright white mane, she whinnied in response, leaning into his hand as he pat her nose. He grasped onto her reins and guided her out of the ranch, down the hill and to the main village.
Ordon Village, though typically bathed in sunshine, teeming with the hardworking farmers and ranchers that made up their small population of just 20, was strangely empty. The villagers had retreated to their homes to take shelter from the storm. Link led Epona across a small bridge that crossed a tiny river flowing through their town. He noticed that the water was already higher than normal; the storm must be coming from the north.
Link’s house was at the northernmost edge of the village, just before Faron Woods. Built into a large tree, the only way to enter was by climbing a ladder. Link led Epona underneath a particularly large branch and tied her there. He reached underneath her and unbuckled her saddle, removing it from her wide torso. “Just a second,” Link said as he shifted the saddle under one of his arms. With his free arm, he climbed the ladder, just as he had done a thousand times.
Entering his home, he turned to a bench right inside the door to his left and placed the saddle down on an empty spot between a pair of boots and a basket. He hung Epona’s reins on an empty hook behind the door and grabbed a thick blanket, rolled up underneath the bench. He quickly descended the ladder again and spread the blanket over Epona. “There you go, girl,” he whispered, patting her back. “Sure doesn’t do this very often, does it?” he asked her, pointing up to the sky. She snorted in response. Link pulled at the rope once more to ensure it was tight, then ascended his ladder again, shutting his door behind him.
Link sighed as he kicked off his sandals. The end of today was a bit rushed due to the storm; though not a big deal to most, Link preferred to end his day on a slow note, perfectly normal and uneventful. However, the lack of rain this province received made thunderstorms such as this one a rare occurrence.
The rumbles of thunder grew louder as Link pulled out a piece of flint from a drawer next to the hearth. He had just gotten down on his knees to start the fire when a loud knocking came from his door. Tossing the flint to the side, he stood to his feet and brushed the dust off his knees. “Come in,” he yelled.
Rusl, Link’s mentor, poked his face Link’s home. Thirty-two years old, he was the father of Colin, and in some ways, a father to Link as well. His facial hair crept in a neat line around his lips, coming to a neatly trimmed beard at the chin.
“I know you just got home,” Rusl started.
Link shook his head and chuckled. “What’s up?”
“Mind if I had your help for a few minutes? The wind caught a large branch, smashed right into one of Bo’s windows. Would like to fix it up before this rain starts,” he said, casting a wary glance up at the sky.
Link walked to the door and stepped outside with Rusl, appraising the dark sky. A fork of lightning stretched itself from one end of the horizon to the other. “It’s gonna rain any minute. Let me get some tools, I’ll be right there.”
Rusl nodded and turned, disappearing down the ladder. Link shut the door and ran back to the hearth, tossing the flint into the drawer and pushing it closed with his hip as he made his way to the side of his house, where a ladder descended into the trunk of the tree, hollowed out to make a storage area. Though this area was dark, Link did not need a lantern. To the bottom of the ladder, two steps forward, one step to the left, and an outstretched arm, there was a burlap bag that held simple tools used for things such as replacing windows.
No sooner did Link emerge back outside did it begin to drizzle. The two men hurried down the path that led to the main village, the tools clunking in the bag with each step Link took.
Bo was outside cutting planks of wood when they arrived. He was a rather plump man with small, beady eyes. Bo’s presence tended to command a great deal of respect, so the fact that he was mayor of the village was fitting. “Thank you guys, really,” he said, his words fumbling out of his mouth. “The branch,” he said, raising his arms over his head, “I mean, this big! Ah yes, thank you, dear.”
Ilia, Bo’s daughter, emerged from the house with a bucket of nails and a hammer. Her shoulder-length blonde hair blew frantically in the wind, now blowing more consistently. Link felt his heart pick up in speed, jumping into his throat.
“Can you honestly believe this?” she said, placing the hammer in the bucket and passing it over to her father. She turned to Link, glancing back at her father. “I told him to take down that branch a week ago,” Ilia murmured, lowering her voice so that only they two could hear her words. “It’s been rotting for ages, but he wouldn’t listen.” She shook her head and smiled at him, and Link felt his heart flip.
“Uhh, yeah, you know how dads are, I mean,” he stuttered, feeling his cheeks flush.
She giggled and bent down, picking up a board. “Better get this thing covered.” She walked away, leaving Link to silently chastise himself. Could he have said anything more stupid?
The rain fell harder as they worked. Bo continued to cut boards of wood, Link and Rusl nailed the boards to the window, and Ilia helped hold the boards in place. The last nail was put in place just as a peal of thunder ripped through the sky.
“Just in time, everyone in!” Bo called over the rumble. They piled into the mayor’s home and a puddle of water immediately formed beneath their feet. “I’ll start a fire,” said Bo, breathing heavy.
“I’ll grab some towels,” Rusl volunteered.
Ilia and Link looked at each other and giggled. “We’ll just wait here,” she said, smirking. Her eyes moved up, staring at Link’s hair. She stood on her toes and raised a hand, gingerly arranged his sopping wet locks. “There, it was all messed up.” Her heels returned to the ground and she looked at him. Her eyes fell to her feet and redness crept into her cheeks.
Rusl appeared from the back room. “For you two,” he said, handing Link a stack of dry towels. “I’ll give these to your dad, he should have the fire almost started by now. Tea sound good to you two? I thought we could have a cup to pass the time while we wait for the rain to die down.”
They nodded their heads in unison, and Rusl made his way to the back room again. “Call you when it’s ready then,” he called behind him before disappearing.
Link picked one of the towels off the pile, setting the others on a table behind him. “Here,” he said to Ilia. He unfolded the towel, holding it out with both hands, and she turned around, a small smile playing on her lips. He draped the towel around her shoulders and her hands met his, lingering for a moment. She turned her head around, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for everything today,” she said.
Link draped a towel around his own shoulders, smiling back at her. They walked together into the back room, and the smell of burning kindling filled his nostrils. Though he was wet and cold, he was very thankful for the rain today.