Go Shoemake
015.A.Ι.2.02
There was only one outfit that Linkle ever wore.
This is to say, there was only one outfit that Linkle ever wore in public—she wore something different to bed, of course, and while her typical ensemble was being washed, and secretly in the comfort of her own home—but these are hardly worthy matters of historical note. There was only one outfit that Linkle was known by, and this was her Hero's garb, a uniform so brightly dyed and non-traditional in cut that it seemed straight out of a fairy tale.
An attempt to list its components follows. They include: boots, leather, tall, a practical feature, keeping out water when traversing swamps or fording creeks; leggings, burlap, cotton-lined, unfortunately not as warm as they looked, but comfortable; an undershirt, silk, white, high-collared, cozy; mail, an unknown alloy, light but strong, and golden in colour; gloves, leather, fingerless, featuring an ornate pattern despite their utilitarian purpose; an overshirt, cotton, Lincoln green, with a wide square neckline that cut across her upper breast; and a matching hat, just as verdant, pointed in style but oddly constructed such that it flopped every which way instead of remaining vertical as it ought. Nevertheless, the outfit appeared to resist any manner of wear or abrasion; indeed, as she had received the garment straight from the Spirit Faron himself, this seemed likely to be the case.
Ten years ago, Linkle had singlehandedly led a charge against an encroaching onslaught of twilight incarnate without bringing along so much as a change of clothes. Her exploits as a warrior had earned her rank and admiration across the kingdom, and although she now mostly spent her days relaxing in the village of her childhood, her Hero's uniform was seen by many as a symbol of the courage and determination that the best of mankind had to offer. Bearing this symbolic weight was no small responsibility, but it was one Linkle carried with pride. So long as she appeared each day in her fabled attire, she was in everyone's mind indefatigable. Without it, well…
…Well. There was a reason she was having difficulty bringing herself to open the door.
Before her time as The Hero Chosen By The Gods, Linkle had been a humble farmhand at the village ranch. She had grown up in rough-cut pants and sleeveless tunics—clothes designed for days of hard physical labour. Formal attire, feminine clothing—dresses, certainly—simply didn't suit her figure. The dress she was wearing now, a light blue lacy affair, definitely didn't suit her. At all. And yet, here she was, hand on the door handle, shaking with the hesitation of a young girl about to embark on her first date, perhaps more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life.
To be fair, she was heading to dinner.
Digging her nails into her palm and biting her lip one final time, she tugged the door open and stepped through its frame. The brisk autumn air quickly enveloped her, sending a shiver down her spine. In that instant, she became critically aware of two things: First, the extent to which her back was currently exposed, and second, that she had been sweating profusely just moments before. She almost turned back then and there and called it a night.
But her moment's panic was interrupted fortuitously by the call of an old friend. “Link!” It was Colin, a sprightly blond boy six years her junior but nevertheless one of her closest friends. He ran up beside her and studied her face with intent. “Right, it is you. Where are you headed?”
“Hello, Colin,” Linkle said weakly. Colin wasn't one to care about such things as clothing, but there was no way she could escape now. “I'm afraid I have business with the mayor over dinner. I was heading there presently.”
“Enough about that, what's with this getup!? The tomboy Linkle in a dress? I never thought I'd see the day—I almost didn't think it was you!”
“Yes, well, it is a formal dinner.” That was her excuse, anyway. The mayor Bo had not specified as much—not that telling Linkle what to wear would normally be an effective tactic—but the mayor's daughter, Ilia, was doubtless to attend, and, well. Y'know. She had spent the past seven years in Kakariko, a village far to the northeast, helping with the restoration effort. Today marked her homecoming, or so the rumours told. Linkle wondered if the dinner was related.
“A formal dinner, eh?” Colin rolled his eyes. “Our village has a population of… what? Fifteen? We don't do formal.”
“Perhaps you don't.” Linkle raised her chin adamantly. “Some of us are cut from a different cloth.”
“Oh no, you're not pulling that Hylian superiority bullshit on me,” Colin waved a finger at her. “I've seen you playing around in manure same as the rest of us.”
“I've seen you in diapers,” Linkle retaliated.
“Yes, well, I'd be putting you in diapers right now if it wouldn't make you late for dinner,” Colin shot back.
“Oh, yes, dinner. Speaking of.” Linkle reached up and ruffled Colin's hair. He was taller than she was, now, which was really freaky when she thought about it. “I'd best be going,” she said.
“Riiiiight,” Colin said, brushing away her hand. “Wouldn't want to keep the fair maiden waiting.”
He knew her too well.
Linkle knocked three times. The door was quickly opened by none other than Ilia herself, who gave her a quick once-over with her eyes. “Linkle!” she said, raising her eyebrows and stifling a chuckle. “You look… nice.”
Linkle felt her face flush. “sry sry,” she stammered. “i knew this was a bad idea i look terrible in dresses im gonna home now kthnx by—”
Ilia rolled her eyes and grabbed her arm. “Link, stop. I was being serious. You look nice.”
Linkle let out her breath and glanced up to Ilia's face. “Thanks,” she said. “You too.”
And she did. She was dressed more elegantly than Linkle had ever seen her before—Linkle was reminded of her time among the Hyrulean court alongside Princess Zelda—but some things never changed. Her dirty blonde hair was still cropped short—and more than a little unruly—and her eyes the same shade of… well. Ilia turned and walked back into the house; Linkle followed her inside.
The dining room was gorgeous; Ilia's touch, no doubt, as the mayor was never much one for aesthetic. The sun's last rays shone in through the window as the world outside descended into twilight. Linkle looked away. The table was set for four, but this was a mere formality; one of the places would go empty. Candles flickered in its center. Ilia took a seat on the far side; Linkle sat down across from her.
“Father will be just a moment,” Ilia said. “He's putting the finishing touches on dinner.”
“Mm,” Linkle mumbled in response. The mayor was cooking dinner? She wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified. “You been back awhile?” she asked.
“Maybe two hours,” Ilia replied. “Long enough to get ready.”
Linkle nodded. “How're things there?”
Ilia sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “Good. The hot springs are an attractive feature, so we've been able to draw folks in from Castle Town, get a few new residents. We're all still living largely on Malo's dime for the time being, but the economy is almost back on track.”
“Yeah.” Linkle didn't have much to add, and she got the sense that this thread of conversation was wearing Ilia out. She decided to switch tack. “Missed having you around.”
“Oh, don't give me that,” Ilia snapped. “I was around for three years while you were off gallivanting with the Princess Hyrule, and it's not like you stopped by to visit much then. We had plenty of rebuilding to do here too, you know.”
“Well, I'm sorry, but after saving the kingdom you kind of end up conscripted into the royal guard!” This was old history; Linkle was surprised that Ilia had brought it up. “Don't tell me you were jea—”
At this moment, the mayor burst into the room, carrying two enormous plates of food. The conversation abruptly came to a halt. Mayor Bo looked from one girl to the next with an amused expression. “Well,” he said. “I see you two have wasted no time catching up.” Compared to them, he looked painfully underdressed, his muscular arms emerging from an oversized sleeveless tunic, his pants stained with mud and grass. He took a seat to Linkle's leaft, and the table shook with his weight as he sat down. “Food's ready,” he said. “We can talk as we eat.”
The food was, to Linkle's surprise, delicious. Turkey and honeyed biscuits; pumpkin pie and apple cobbler; mugs of hot cider and bottles of wine—frankly, it looked a bit much for three, but recalling the mayor's appetite Linkle decided to hold her tongue. While it had been an admirable suggestion, talking while they ate quickly fell out of the question, as the next thirty minutes passed without anyone uttering so much as a word.
On the thirty-first, however, Ilia pushed her plate aside and uncorked a bottle of wine. “So,” she said, filling her glass to the brim. “To business.”
“Right, right.” The mayor was far from finished eating, but he made a show of setting aside his fork and napkin. “Well. As I'm sure you both are aware, we are nearing the end of harvest, and that means our annual tribute to the royal family should quickly be brought into order. This year is also, lest you forget, the tenth anniversary of the Twilight Invasion.”
“Of course.” Linkle nodded her understanding. “So, we should put together something special, no? It would be an excellent opportunity to show how far we've come.”
The mayor looked uncomfortable. “Well…” he said, his voice trailing of as he glanced wearily towards Ilia.
“We're going to withhold the tribute from Princess Zelda and demand formal recognition from the royal family,” Ilia said bluntly. Eager that she had taken up the baton, the mayor set to work on another leg of turkey. Ilia took a swig of wine. “You may have received a royal promotion, Link, but the rest of us haven't been granted so much as a word of acknowledgement from the castle. We were all on the front lines—How many people did we lose in Kakariko? How many crops were lost that harvest? And yet, did we receive any assistance that winter? If it hadn't been for Malo we'd have all gone under.”
“Oh, come on,” Linkle said. “You know who else was hit hard by the invasion? Hyrule Castle. The royal guard was left decimated after the war; we had enough trouble just maintaining order.”
“You think you guys had it bad? Imagine trying to rebuild homes when you have Bulblins raiding your village every other night. As always, the Castle's priorities lie with those closest to it, and the rest of us are left to fend for ourselves.”
“Ugh.” Linkle covered her face with her hand. “I get what you're saying, I just… This does not. Seem. Worth it.”
“Not seem worth it how?” Ilia drained her glass. “Don't blow things out of proportion, Link, we're just asking for a little recognition here. If the Princess is as good as you think she is, she'll give us what we asked for and we'll all be on our merry way.”
“She will!” Linkle slammed her palm down on the table. “Why are you making it sound like she won't! She will!”
“Glad to hear it,” Ilia said. “You won't mind asking her for us, then?”
“I—”
“She'll have a hard time saying no to Hyrule's Chosen Hero…” Ilia gave Linkle a wink. “'specially in that dress.”
Linkle blushed. In the heat of the conversation, she had forgotten she was wearing it. “I— Okay. I can get an audience with her, and I'll ask.