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Gentle sun filters through the curtains of Link’s bedroom, casting shadows with his furniture, soft and well worn.
The small hylian snuggles against the fabric of his magical friend beneath the covers.
Traveling through the Temple of Droplets had been so much colder than they’d anticipated, making it a long few days for the both of them. On top of that, having to swim in so much icy water left Link chilled to the bone a million times over. Not to mention bruised from slipping on solid ice, or being pelted by octoroks big and small, among much, much more.
Emerging victorious though, after a short bit of fanfare, they were finally able to drag themselves home and upstairs, and collapse into Link’s room for some well deserved rest.
Link squints his eyes shut tighter against the sunlight, burrowing down between pillows to escape with a tiny groan. He didn’t want to get up yet, not when he still felt so heavy and tired. But he also knew that adventure never slept (for long). Zelda needed his help, there were curses that needed breaking, sorcerers who needed to pay.
The sorcerer beside him, however, had woken up hours ago. That didn’t mean that Ezlo had stayed awake, of course. After the trip they’d had, he wasn’t so inclined to get up and start the day, either.
Besides, the kid looked absolutely beat. The little hero deserved some rest, he’d earned it. And so did Ezlo, naturally.
Link hauls himself to sitting, keeping his eyes loosely shut but still facing away from the sun as he wipes them with both fists. He hangs his head while his blood pressure evens out within it, and Ezlo takes his turn wiggling his beak under the pillows against his loss of shade with a pathetic little sound of his own.
Carefully shaking Ezlo’s cap like usual for a moment, Link hums for his attention, but quickly gives up for the prickling in the back of throat. And without thinking very hard on it, he elects to just pull Ezlo gently out and drop the cap onto his hair where he belongs, still sleepily sagging against the top of Link’s head as they both waited for their minds to start like the sun insisted they should.
Thankfully, Ezlo is quicker to come to, blinking and looking around. “My, it’s late. It looks like it’s already afternoon! You sure slept like a rock.” As he often does, Ezlo squints. Link's neck wobbles beneath him as he waves his beak through the air, seeming to look for something.
"Hm. It really must be late if it's this warm in here. I would have thought you humans would be better at planning these things. Besides, you need breakfast, shouldn't we be going downstairs?"
"Can you talk a little quieter please?” Link croaks, holding onto the hem of Ezlo’s cap and trying to hold him steady. He winces internally at the sting in his throat, and squeezes his eyes shut so the world doesn’t spin any worse.
“Hm? What? Oh, of course,” he continues at normal volume, only dropping to a stage whisper afterward, “But your grandfather was in here earlier you know, he told me to tell you that he’ll be on errands all day today.”
Link signs his confirmation with a loose and lazy fist. Okay, so they had the house to themselves. Guess breakfast is going to be… interesting, he thinks.
He feels a chill run up his shoulders and chatter his teeth, and decides it’s best to yank the quilt from his bed to pull it around his shoulders.
It’s when Ezlo sees this (with more of his swinging around) that he points his beak down to Link’s face, “Hey! Just because your grandfather’s gone doesn’t mean you can be sloppy-”
A realization dawns on his face, making Ezlo’s curly crest flutter as the pieces fall into place in his head.
Link, in the meantime, hauls himself to standing, clutching the blanket’s corners to his chest to keep it closed around him.
“Wait a minute! It’s not the room that’s warm, it’s just you!” Ezlo sticks his beak high into the air, "You're sick! Don't even try fooling someone like me!"
Link gives him a sore groan, and takes a few steps closer to the stairs, the blanket leaving the bed reminding him of the elaborate royal robe trains he’d seen Zelda wear (and that she always complained about).
"Ohhhhhh no, you're not going anywhere, kid. Not today." Ezlo tosses his head back, holding on tight to Link's hair as he throws his weight far enough to make Link yelp, stumble, and fall onto his back right back into bed - and make Ezlo let out a squawk himself when he finds his plan working a little too well.
Link makes a grumbley whine, much to the dismay of his throat. Getting knocked back made his head swim, and he still hadn't quite reached land again. He swears he could feel his brain shifting behind his eyes from Ezlo flinging him over, and falling back down only made him ever more aware of how much he ached all over.
Ezlo, not about to wait for a favor, wiggles his way off Link’s head and throws himself upright, shaking out his crest and clearing his throat. “I ah… Sorry about that. Guess I didn’t know my own strength.”
Curling into himself, the boy tightens the blanket around him. Even if Link didn’t enjoy the method, Ezlo seemed more and more like he had the right idea.
Ezlo opens his beak once, before shutting it with a tiny clap when he finally gets a look at Link's face, eyebrows scrunched and burrowing into his arms.
It had been a while since he'd really seen how… small the boy was. Certainly not as small as a Minish, of course not. But if one were poetic, his features could be called mousy. His chubby cheeks and young face made him just as spritely as any Minish - even if for now he was pink with fever, instead of covered in fine, cream colored fur.
Ezlo couldn't help his mind from drifting back to thoughts of his old apprentice. They had both had a few turns for a day or two spent under the weather. And each time, they'd both had something to teach the other.
He shakes his head of sentimental thoughts. Link needed his help.
“I’ll... go down to the kitchen and bring everything back up, you need to stay in bed and rest!”
With another mighty twist, Ezlo drops to the floor, and hops his way to the edge of the stairs. He didn't miss moving around like this, and he's sure if he was his old self he'd be winded by the first jump, but he presses on - no matter how annoying.
But… Finally looking down the staircase… While much more passable than if he were still a Minish, it remained extremely daunting in his state. The light of the first floor was so close, but miles away, and his crest flicks back and forth again with his second thoughts.
“Aah… Hm... Well, maybe it’s best that you DO take me downstairs. Can’t exactly bring back a cup for you when it would just spill all over on the way back anyway."
He stares at Link for a moment, who had just barely picked his head up to listen, and he looked miserable.
If he could, Ezlo would have bitten his cheek before setting off to hop his way back over, just to make it easier on him.
He doesn't even wait to be picked up from the floor, instead hoisting himself up with his beak clamped down in the sheets and vaulting himself up. (And he's quite proud of that landing, if you asked him.)
Back on the bed, he doesn't even have to look up at Link, with him leaning on one arm as he still struggles to keep his vision steady even though they’re eye-to-eye.
After a moment's hesitation, Ezlo clears his throat, and speaks possibly more softly than Link had ever heard from him before, "We just need to get you to the kitchen, then you can sit down and rest again. And ah…” He gives an exaggerated wink with a smile, “You can take the blanket too. I won't tell."
That one brings a little smile to Link’s face, and he nods gently, trying again not to upset the sloshing feeling in his head.
Ezlo looks to the side, and tilts his head in thought before looking back at Link, “Uh, if your head hurts too, do you want to carry me instead?”
He gives another small nod and a sign of agreement before carefully picking him up by the band, and resting him on one arm while he sits up, gathering the blanket again around his shoulders, and even bundling Ezlo with it too.
It’s not the hardest trip down the stairs he’s ever had, but Link holds tight with one hand to the railing and takes each step carefully, trying to beat back the fog in his head trying to throw him off balance. And Ezlo, out of respect for his concentration, for once keeps his beak shut.
Link drags his feet and the blanket behind him into the kitchen, but eventually he manages.
Setting Ezlo on the table, he’s followed by Link’s chin and a pathetic, exhausted look on his face.
Ezlo tilts his head for a second, getting a good (and concerned) look at his charge before he finally speaks up.
“Alright. What can we do here for you,” he says, looking around to the rest of the room. “Stove, kettle, spices… Hm! I think your grandfather left coals in the stove. If you can get that going again, I think I can manage watching a kettle and some tea for you. That should be a good start.” He nudges Link’s cheek with his beak to encourage him back to sitting, “Well, come on, you’re not gonna get to feeling better if we don’t do something about it!”
Link leans back as suggested, whining against pursed lips again and signing an even less enthusiastic “Okay.”
Leaving the blanket behind, Link coaxes himself into the familiar rhythm of fixing up the fire, filling the kettle, and bringing it back to the stove.
All the while, Ezlo watches him work from the table, crest twitching in thought as he finally gets to survey the room, and see the boy work on his own, when an idea strikes him.
Sizing up the gap with a squint, Ezlo wiggles his little felted body, and leaps across to grab onto a cabinet door handle and swing himself onto the countertop. (And he can't help but wiggle a little more in pride that he even made it this far.)
With that victory out of the way, he looks back at Link with his beak raised, “Well! That’s that for the moment. Now, if you could show me where you keep your tea and bring me a cup, I think you’ll be all set to sit back down for some well earned rest."
Instead of nodding too much, Link signs his confirmation again, pointing to the corked little bottle of tea leaves and spelling the name as he passes, before shuffling his way to the cabinet for a cup. It's almost too high up for him, forcing Link onto his tippy toes to just barely catch the handle with his fingers, but he makes it in the end - and with a saucer to match.
In the meantime, Ezlo hops his way toward the stove, but still keeps his safe distance from the heat. He shakes his little body down from beak to brim while he waits, then examines the crowd of bottled spices.
"Hmm hmm… pepper… nutmeg… aah! Ginger root! That's a smart one to have. Let me know if your stomach gets upset, Link, that should do just the trick. Aah yes, and thank you."
"Mmhm…" Link hums, setting down the saucer. He could feel even his teeth beginning to ache. And his joints certainly hadn't enjoyed fixing the fire or reaching up to the cabinet, but Ezlo was still right: nothing could really get better if he hadn't gotten up.
Ezlo's look softens, as well as his voice, and he gives the boy a gentle smile. "Alright kiddo, go have a seat and bundle up. I can take care of it from here," he says the latter with building confidence, and a bit of his usual self satisfaction.
He watches for a moment as Link easily follows the request to get comfortable, pulling the blanket around him and tucking it and his arms under his cheek. And immediately, it looked more than ever like he was perfectly at home. Ezlo couldn't be sure, but it almost looked as if after his mighty sigh of relief, Link went straight to dozing at the table.
But back to business, there were still herbs to explore. Maybe there would be something for that headache. And his throat sounded bad, so maybe something for that too…
Everything always took extra steps compared to if he had real hands: first having to grab the bottles with his beak, then read the labels, and in his frustration, he hoped that they hadn't been in any sort of order before.
"Hmh! This may help…" he mutters.
But now came the struggle to open the accursed thing. Having only one beak in this quite literally accursed form would never stop being a problem, so he can do nothing but try his best to gently uncork the bottle with its own weight. And once victorious, he squints with a vengeance to see past the blind spot of where the bottle sits in his beak, moving at a snail's pace to try and tip the contents without spilling and ruining things.
He shakes it once, twice, and the little dried leaves scent the air with mint. When satisfied, Ezlo once more carefully returns the cork to its home.
Finally getting a better whiff of the herb though, it's enough to make his heart sink just a bit again.
He looks down into the cup, and remembers more of why he'd chosen it.
Vaati loved peppermint.
There was a whole mess of it growing just outside the workshop, and his former apprentice was always eager to help prune it back. And while it did have a number of properties that were proven, sometimes he seemed convinced that peppermint tea was a cure all. Anything from headaches to sore throats to fevers to just sipping throughout the day for stress. Smelling it in the workshop was often a calling card of Vaati having a rough day, but one that was also given to Ezlo so many times he couldn't help but grow a fondness for it himself.
He looks over to Link, almost assuredly fast asleep now, and softly claps his beak to himself to bring his thoughts to the present.
That was then, and this is now. Mint tea will help his charge regardless of any of his own memories tied up in it.
He listens carefully for the kettle, deciding it still had a while to go, and returns to the spices to scrutinize the lineup with the most critical scowl they'd ever received as he tried to remember any more uses and remedies for his next cups.
And then the boy would need something to eat sooner rather than later… If he was up to eating at all, for now.
Calories. Anything. Healing takes energy, maybe they have…
A jar of honey sits at the far end, glazed so simply that it was somehow charming. But the lid… and getting the honey out. Well, that was a problem for in a moment.
The kettle whistles for his attention, pulling him from again from his thoughts and hurrying him over to the stove to pull at the handle with all his might and bring it off the heat and onto a trivet before it wakes Link too thoroughly. He thanks the goddesses that the handle was made in such a way that the sides of his beak could slot into the turned wooden grooves instead of sliding around in his grasp. Not to mention the constant worry of dropping it and making noise, or worse yet, burning himself.
But somehow, Ezlo manages. Then he’s back to the waiting game again until he’s sure that the water won’t scald the tea leaves, leaving him time to prepare the cup for the perilous pour, scooting it closer with the tip of his beak. He’s not sure how many prayers he dreams up in the meantime, but he wobbles idly on his brim. It’s something he hasn’t done in ages, considering how long he’d had a wearer at this point, he’d hate to subject Link to such a strange feeling. Were he a proper Minish, Ezlo thinks he’d likely be pacing or tapping his foot, but this was all he had to work with, for now.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his mind. And soon he finds himself watching the steady rise and fall of Link’s back beneath his quilt, and counting his breaths to keep time.
It certainly helps, but the longer he stares, the more sorry he feels for the boy. Were I not as cavalier about making progress, maybe he wouldn’t have caught such a nasty thing. Have I been working him too hard? Was this what drove Vaati to-
He shakes out his head again, grumbling to himself and twitching his crest to steel his nerves.
Ezlo clasps his beak around the handle, and slowly, ever so gently, tips the kettle on one side to fill the cup. He made an accidental splash, underestimating how much water was in the thing, but… at least not too many leaves were lost.
It would have to do.
The kettle is replaced, and Ezlo flexes his jaw to get rid of some of the tightness. In all his time in this form, he’s not sure he’s ever had to lift anything like that, much less so carefully.
And then to his next problem: the honey.
He stares down the little vessel, with its dipper sticking out proudly on one side, and he squints.
Ezlo very carefully shuffles his brim along the counter, reaching over to grip the lid in his beak -and there it goes, slipping and clattering against the pot and the counter, the sound magnified by silence, and making Ezlo wince. At a glance though, Link seemed completely undisturbed, much to his relief. Perhaps being a heavy sleeper was sometimes useful.
With a huff and another flick of his crest, he’s able to clamp down a bit harder on the wooden dipper’s handle, twisting his head and attempting not to make a mess. But it seemed that his luck continued to be shaky at best; and the handle falls from his beak and splashes even more of the tea onto the counter.
He stares in open-mouthed shock for a moment, before throwing his head toward the ceiling and doing his best to tame his frustrated scream into a muted groan. Had he any fur, he’d look roughly twice his size, bristling as he shook his beak around - there simply wasn’t much else he could do about it, save for glaring at the little cup as if it was personally responsible for his curse instead of Vaati.
But gaining no response or apology, Ezlo deflates, breathing out his anger instead.
He hangs his head, and distracts himself from his failure to focus on the tiny leaves darkening their water into tea, and sending the scent of peppermint wafting up on the steam, and his eyes follow the trails of honey drifting away from the dipper’s grooves and dance within the cup.
Slowly, the crackle of the oven’s fire wasn’t so overwhelming, and he could hear Link’s quiet, stuffy breaths from the table.
At least the honey hadn’t fallen out when it fell, so there was that.
With a sigh of resignation, Ezlo looks to Link for another moment.
His beak clacks softly again in a false start, before he calls out, “Hey! Wake up, sleepyhead! Your tea’s ready!”
Link’s face rises from his arms, and he looks around until his squint settles on Ezlo. He sits up straighter, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and brings the blanket with him the few feet to the counter to look down at what had transpired.
“Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as anticipated. But this should help with a few things. Have to keep fluids going, but you might have to make the next cup or two yourself.”
A soft and sleepy smile forms on Link’s face. Looking down, he picks up the saucer with its cup, and sips off the spillover before swirling the honey dipper through the tea like there hadn’t been even the possibility of a problem. Ezlo wasn’t used to their kitchen, after all, it was only natural. And in Link’s opinion, he’d made a very nice cup of tea no matter what. With the first sip, he can already start to feel it warming his heart, fighting through his fever for something far more comforting, and cooling some of the stinging in his throat.
He signs his thanks, and without much thought, Link can’t resist giving Ezlo’s head a little pat, being at just the perfect height.
The whole reaction leaves the former sage more than a bit bewildered, but he’s easily coaxed into an open arm, and carried back to the table.
And there, wrapped in his new friend’s arms and a quilt and the strange light of afternoon, things smelled like mint and honey. And felt a bit more like home than he’d known in a long, long time.