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At dawn, combing a supposedly deserted beach
Link had never given much thought to merfolk.
Sure, he’d read about them, heard the stories about some lucky person (or unlucky, depending on the story) running across one, but he never expected to see one up close himself. He didn’t spend nearly enough time in or on the ocean to really worry about it.
So when he walked across a rocky stretch of beach, climbed up one side of a jagged ridge and jumped from stone to stone down the other, he was not thinking about merfolk. He was thinking about lunch.
There had been a storm the night before and he had woken up early to see if anything interesting or valuable had washed ashore. Because of this, he’d eaten an extremely early breakfast, and because of that, he was already hungry.
He looked up at a flock of seagulls circling a tide pool further along, considering his options. Eating now would make the morning more enjoyable, but then he wouldn’t have anything for lunch. He’d be starving by dinner. Maybe if he only ate half of the food now it would tide him over?
Heheh, tide.
Link headed for a stone near the tide pool that looked like a promising seat for a snack break. The gulls swooped and called overhead, and his smile mellowed into curiosity as he neared the pool. He craned his neck in an effort to see what had the gulls so excited.
A playful breeze drifted in from the ocean and ran its chilled fingers over his cheek and through his hair as it passed. This dislodged a swath of strawberry blonde hair into his eyes, and the morning sun danced gleefully off each strand in bright honey-gold. He huffed, reaching up to swipe the tangle away when something blue flashed in the water. He started, hand halfway to his face, then leaned forward over the pool for a closer look.
Then he yelped as a rock nailed him from the side, and he almost flailed into the pool himself.
He reeled around, sliding his shield into place as he searched for his assailant. He hadn’t noticed any octorocs on his way in, but he could have missed one.
There.
Something moved between two waves. He held his shield up just as another rock pinged against the metal, clattering to the stone beneath him. At first he thought it might be a zora, but a quick peek revealed a mess of bright blonde hair resting over a very angry, very young, very hylian looking face.
Some kid was throwing rocks at him.
“Excuse me?” Link called from behind his shield, trying not to be annoyed. Another rock pinged away and lodged between the two pock marked boulders beneath his feet. He peeked out again, “Can I help you?”
The kid bared some disturbingly sharp, very not-hylian teeth at him and made a weird trilling-screech in reply before ducking back beneath the waves with a flash of bright blue matching the one he’d seen earlier.
A tail.
Ah.
This was the moment when Link began giving more thought to merfolk.
A seagull swooped past his head, and he took a step away from the tide pool, warily scanning it for the first flash he’d seen earlier. More shrieking came from the ocean, and another rock hit his shield. His eyes caught on something glimmering in the shadows beneath an overhanging stone, and a closer look revealed what was definitely the tip of a long blue tail. After a minute of watching, a head peeked out from behind the rock, blonde hair fanning out around a face even younger than that of the angry rock throwing mer. The tiny merchild froze, eyes wide as saucers.
Link blinked, and the little mer stared back without returning the gesture.
The mer in the tide pool appeared to be female, and she looked pretty beat up, scratches and bruises littering her exposed skin and scales.
The little one had probably been caught in the storm, tossed around by the sea and then thrown up over the rocks by a wave; it was a miracle that she’d survived at all. Now she was injured and stuck in a pool surrounded by rough rocks. Escaping would be difficult and painful even for an uninjured mer, let alone a kid in that condition. He winced at the thought.
He looked back out at the mer in the ocean, who continued to launch rocks and scream when not diving for more stones. Another rock bounced from his shield and fell into the crack at his feet, which gave him an idea.
He wanted to help, but didn’t particularly want to get into range of anyone’s teeth. His eyes trailed along the boulders and stones between the pool and the sea. Maybe he could just pave the way for her. Literally.
Mind made up, Link stepped away from the pool. There were piles and piles of sea plants that had been thrown ashore, tiny filamentous bunches of red intermingling with long slick leaves of deep green. Perfect.
The mer in the ocean stopped throwing rocks as he stepped away, but continued to monitor his every move with laser focus.
Link reached the first pile of algal detritus, grabbing an armful and dragging what he could back towards the pool. It was slimy and wet, soaking his tunic through instantly, and half of it slid back out of his hold despite his best efforts. The male mer hissed again as he approached the tide pool, so he dumped his load and backed away before the rocks started flying again.
“See?” Link said, holding his arms up and backing away, “it’s fine.”
The hissing died down, though the ear flaps remained flared and the mers eyes never left him. No rocks followed this time, though, so he counted it as a win. He turned back to the task at hand.
Thus began the very long, very hot process of creating a slippery trail between the pool and the sea. With each pass the mer in the ocean became calmer, settling on a rock for a better view of what was happening, and he even caught the mer in the pool peeking at him a few times.
His trips became longer as he had to move further and further down the beach to collect algae, the sun beating down in full and causing beads of sweat to trail down his face to join the saltwater soaking his tunic. He paused to wipe the perspiration from his eyes.
At least the breeze was nice.
He dumped his latest load near the beach, spreading it out to continue the long strip of slippery trail he’d been creating. A trill sounded from the sea, and he looked up to see the merboy doing his best to push a pile of fresh algae up the stones towards him. He stood and walked cautiously towards the kid, leaning down to take the pile into his own arms and drag it up onto the rocks. The strips were far longer than the ones he’d found ashore, long enough to cover the remaining distance, and a few minutes of arranging saw the path completed.
“Phew!” Link rested his hands on his knees and nodded at the mer in thanks. The mer smiled back widely, once again revealing a lot of very white, very pointy teeth.
He remembered again why people tended to avoid merfolk in general.
He made his way back towards the tide pool. The little mermaid was peeking up at him from the water, and he waved.
“Ready to join your friend?” He called quietly, crouching down to appear smaller and gesturing to the slippery trail that wound to the sea. “He’s waiting for you just over that way.”
She looked warily between the trail and Link, slowly edging towards the side of the pool to examine his work. She struggled to prop herself up onto the ledge, arms wobbling at the effort.
She all but dropped back into the water after a moment of investigation, and Link winced sympathetically. The path would help, but it still wasn’t going to be easy for the poor thing.
“Here,” he said after she’d had a moment, reaching a hand out to where she could reach if she wanted and praying that she didn’t decide he was a threat. Or a snack.
“I can give you a boost,” he coaxed, waving her again towards the path.
Her eyes gleamed from the water, judging him, and ever so slowly, she reached towards his outstretched hand.
He swallowed the urge to recoil as her clawed, webbed hand grasped his own. He clasped her hand and helped her to slide up onto the makeshift track.
She warbled in pain at the movement, and Link immediately relaxed his hold. A worried cry came from the direction of the boy, who had begun attempting to scale the stones in response to her distress. Wave after wave rose to drag him back down into the water, but he kept scrabbling stubbornly at the rocks.
“She’s ok,” Link called to him, knowing full well that the merboy probably didn't understand a word he was saying.
The mermaid chattered towards the boy, and whatever she said caused him to settle again, watching with a squiggly little pout that Link might have snorted at in another situation.
Link pulled out a jar and popped the cork, and a little pink fairy poked her head out of the top a moment later, blinking at the bright daylight.
She glanced around, eyes passing over him once before dropping to the mermaid below. She chimed three times, then pulled herself the rest of the way out to perch on the rim, shaking her wings and then zipping over to dust the little mer with healing magic.
When she had finished, the fairy patted the mer on the nose before flying off in search of a fountain.
He helped to pull the girl along when she was ready to move again, looking much better for wear than she had moments earlier. They still took it slow, Link carefully tugging her forward as she pulled herself along with her other arm. When she paused to rest he would rearrange the trail, fixing patches that had slid out of place and repurposing some of the pieces that had already been passed to pad the way forward. All the while the merboy swam in agitated circles, chirruping and calling out intermittently, then waiting for the girl to respond each time.
They had nearly made it when things took a turn for the worst, as things are wont to do when one is named Link.
The first clue was a series of shrieks and rapid clicks from the merboy, which alarmed the mermaid. Her fins flared, and she whipped her head from side to side in an attempt to see her surroundings.
The second was the explosion of feathers as the surrounding gulls burst into flight, taking to the air in a synchronized flurry of shrieking terror.
The third was an enormous shadow that darkened the sky briefly as it passed.
Link's head shot up, and he did not like what he saw.
An enormous roc was wheeling back in their direction, and Link had a sinking feeling that it had intentions specifically involving himself and/or the mer.
“Whelp,” he said in his best monotone, which came out a bit shrill on the edges and not nearly as monotone as he had hoped.
“Sorry about this.”
He leaned down and hoisted the mer with all his might. Unfortunately, even little mermaids have very long, very heavy tails, and his stature did not allow for a complete hoist.
“Din blast it,” he grit, all caution thrown to the wind. He half carried half dragged the merchild in a desperate bid for the ocean, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He could hear the flap flap flap of enormous wings behind him, growing louder and louder, and he put on a final burst of adrenaline fueled speed. For a second he thought they might not make it, and then they were at the ledge.
Link put everything he had into one final leap, shoving off with his feet. He caught sight of the merboy beneath them, all blue and gold and noise and outstretched hands. Light shone off the waves, leaving him half blinded. He let go of the mer, shoving her away from himself so that he didn’t hurt her in the landing. Her eyes followed his, wide with terror as she fell towards the sea.
We made it , he thought, then a crushing pressure wrapped around his torso and squeezed , the air rushing out of him as he was jerked up up up onto the air and away from the shore, the land, the sea.
He would have screamed then, if he’d had any air left in his lungs. His left arm was pinned tight to his chest and his right was twisted above his head, elbow caught at a bad angle that didn’t allow him to reach back for his weapons or items. The wind ripped past him, tearing the little air he had left from his open mouth, and he began to panic; he couldn’t breath, couldn’t free his increasingly painful arms, could barely see as the wind tore and whipped at his eyes.
Then he remembered his medallions. He pulled at their magic, and felt the static begin to build around him, scalp prickling as energy danced through his form.
Ether it was.
The world exploded into light and sound, the shrill cry of the roc drowned in a thunderclap that deafened Link even as he was blinded by the all consuming light. There was a pause, an eternal moment of weightlessness, then his stomach flipped as gravity took hold and they began to fall.
This had been part of the plan.
They were falling now, the roc, unconscious or dead, tipping onto its back as gravity took hold, wings dragging limply as they fell.
Link struggled against the talons, but their grip did not loosen. His panic returned tenfold.
This had not been part of the plan.
He had any number of items that would help in this situation (his rocs cape and/or flippers were circled at the top of his current list) but all of them required that his hands be free. Another surge of adrenaline burned through him, and he pushed his pinned arm with all his might.
It was at about this point that they hit the water. Link was spared most of the initial impact, something crunching as the great bird beneath him slammed into the surface before him, but he was not spared the crash of the water as it rushed back to fill the void. Cold water shot up his nose, burning as it forced its way into his sinuses.
The world became a bright blue-green blur, his eyes stinging with brine when he tried to open them. Bubbles fizzed around him as the water churned, darting and wobbling up, up and away from him towards freedom. The roc bobbed wildly in the waves, buoyant enough to float back to the surface, and Link breached briefly with a gasp before another wave dunked him back under.
He squirmed against his prison with renewed vigor, bucking and twisting with all his might. His shoulder protested at the angle, but he barely registered the pain over his panic, the need to escape.
The talons, secure in their death grip, bobbed upwards once more, and Link stole another breath before he was again submerged.
This sucked.
The thought flashed through his panic in a moment of clarity, and it was correct.
The bobbing motions around him calmed, and the giant foot stopped breaching, leaving him pinned just below the surface.
He still had options, though.
He mentally stretched for his bombos medallion this time. One magical explosion deserved another, as they say.
The spell stuttered. He froze in disbelief, then pushed again. Another stutter. He couldn’t muster a third.
Who knew that even magical combustions required air?
Link wanted to scream in frustration, but that required air, too.
Bombos had been his last bet.
His lungs cried for air.
He was going to die.
He was going to die, after everything he’d seen and done. Trapped and alone, undignified, hardly able to even attempt to fight back. He thought wildly that, maybe, maybe this is what always happened. There were never any stories about what happens to the heroes after they win, after all. Maybe they never lived long enough for there to be any stories, driven from one adventure to the next until something did them in. Maybe they didn’t live long enough to have a happy ending.
Link might have taken a moment to feel sorry for himself, then. He might have even let a frustrated tear or two slip out, but no one can prove that when you are underwater, so the point was moot to everyone but Link.
His lungs burned with need, and he was beginning to see stars in his vision. Unable to use his hands to create a final barrier against the water, he took an accidental breath.
It burned, and he swallowed reflexively, gagging and coughing at the liquid fire, then choking more in. He tried kicking again in a final desperate spurt, his legs slow from the water and the deep weariness that was settling into his bones with each passing second.
Farore, he was tired though.
He was weightless, legs slowing and bangs drifting past his face in silent whisps. The cool water soothed the initial burning sensation, and his eyes caught on the way the light danced through the water in waves and beams across the ocean floor far below, grey and green and bright blue and gold blurring together as he lost focus.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
There was a flash then, blue and gold again, a vague tugging sensation around his middle that lasted an eternity and no time at all. Something squeezed his chest, startling him back from the edge of unconsciousness that he hadn’t even realized he’d been toeing, and then he was on fire all over again. Some part of him recognized that he was draped forward over something, but most of him was focused on the fact that he was able to breathe again. His lungs burned as he spewed water, torn between coughing and vomiting and gulping at the free air that chilled his skin as it brushed past his face.
After an age of coughing, he finally got to the point where he could breathe again, or something close to it, his breath wheezing loudly in his own ears and ending in another cough more often than not.
He went limp, exhausted, resting his chin forward onto something and peeling his eyes open. He saw water, rising up and down around him in swells that never quite spilled into waves. Not too far off bobbed the carcass of the giant roc, sea birds already beginning to swarm in the air above.
He closed his eyes for a long moment, then startled when a hand brushed his bangs away from where they had been plastered to his forehead.
It was the tiny merchild, frowning and cooing at him as she continued to push the hair away. He smiled weakly, then blinked slowly as the surface beneath him shifted.
Upon closer inspection he found himself draped over the merboy's front, the boy's arms securely wrapped around Link in a firm hold. This left Link's chin resting on an uncomfortably bony shoulder. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and he was unwilling to move from exactly where he was.
They two mer chittered at each other for a long minute, and Link, exhausted and in a daze, watched the glittering wake that formed behind them as the mer began to swim sideways to keep his head above the surface. He coughed again, spitting the mucous that had begun to join the dregs of salt water as his lungs worked to clear the remaining liquid.
He blinked a very long blink, soothed by the rocking of the waves and the warm sun on his head, and when he opened his eyes again it was sunset.
He was wildly disoriented, lost somewhere between the orange sky and the movement of the darkened sea below. Someone was talking in alarmed tones, and then he felt hands grabbing him beneath the arms and lifting. He reflexively hugged at the mer, afraid of falling into the water, and the voice above him smoothed into something more coaxing. The mer made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and then gently pried his arms off.
“Up you go!”
Link felt the drag and thunk of solid wood beneath him as he was hoisted up and over an edge, and he struggled to sit up, coughing again as his lungs were disturbed by the movement.
He wheezed, staring down from what he could now see was a dock to the two mer below.
The mer. The mer he’d skipped lunch for.
He’d missed lunch.
The mermaid waved shyly and bowed her head at him, and the merboy chittered something before hoisting himself up on the edge of the dock and holding something towards Link.
It gleamed in the glow of the setting sun, smooth and round and screaming of magic.
It was a moon pearl.
Huh. That was a lot nicer than anything he'd expected to find that day.
He accepted the gift, and the merboy locked eyes with him for a long moment before nodding and lowering himself back into the water. The girl shoved his sword up onto the dock, and he smiled at the two in thanks.
Maybe, he thought to himself, there weren’t any happy endings because the heroes were too busy having new adventures for anything to ever end. He liked that idea.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Link had never given much thought to merfolk.
He’d read about them, heard the stories about people running across one, but he never expected to be acquainted with one himself, let alone two. He didn’t spend nearly enough time in or on the ocean, but when he did, he had a favorite stretch of rocky beach that he liked to visit, and he always brought lunch for three.
Fin