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“Watch out!” Legend yelled as he grabbed the Smithy by his collar and yanked him to safety. A blade trap clinked together milliseconds later. A blinding pain suddenly stabbed him in the stomach. Fuck. The tip of an arrow was sticking through his abdomen, and he whipped around to see a bokoblin grinning at him. The single bokoblin had been hidden, concealed by a shadow in the corner. He gnashed his teeth at the monster and surged forward, but Four beat him to it. The Smithy cut it down, and Legend was disappointed to not take his revenge upon it.
He stumbled, just a tiny bit, as more blood flowed down the front of his tunic. His head started to spin, which was odd. He’d been pierced by arrows before, but they didn’t normally sting like this and didn’t cause his head to feel light and his vision to dip and swirl. The tip of the arrow glistened in a dark green color. His eyes whited out and with a rough grunt, he felt the ground hit his side, and he was lying on the stones of the dungeon.
His mind slipped in and out. Someone was trying to talk to him. He blinked owlishly, unsure why he couldn’t clear his eyes. A burning pain stabbed his wound, and he hissed against his best intentions. It wasn’t good to make noise when in pain. Drunkenly he tried to figure out what was going on. His hands were clumsy as they slid in his blood and knocked into another pair of hands.
“Legend, can you hear me?” He thought the voice sounded familiar, and then a face he recognized popped into his vision - Four.
“Smithy? What are you doing here?” He slurred out, his tongue heavy. He tilted his head back, and it rolled against the harsh stone under him. He was growing cold, a shiver breaking out over his skin. Where was he again? A dungeon, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t piece it together.
His chest was tight and searing pain flowed through his veins. His eyes rolled back into his sockets and his muscles seized. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth hurt. He sucked in a breath, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. Drool and froth dripped from his lips. He gasped, hazy and panicked.
“Do you have anything that could help with poisoning?” Purple eyes stared into his own, and the questions moved like molasses through his skull. Poisoning? Who was poisoned? Why did his stomach hurt? He looked down and blinked stupidly. He was bleeding. Poison? From the back of his mind, he thought and it hurt. Seeds, he had a seed that could help.
“Seeds.” He mumbled out, his hand numb as he reached out to take hold of the satchel, but he missed miserably, his motor control shot. Hands patted him down, searching. Legend couldn’t help; every moment was too hard, his limbs so heavy. His eyelids started to shut, and he jerked them open, a fear shooting through his soul. He heard a grumbled curse, and a delirious part of him found it funny. He chuckled till another biting pain lit up his stomach, and he winced, curling in on himself.
The familiar sound of a seed cracking cut through his delirium, and his ears perked up in attention. Heat blazed next to him and he winced at the intensity. Why’d they need a fire?
“We need a fire?” He slurred even more, his words barely even forming. He heard a curse next to him. Another seed cracked, and a potent smell filled the room that left his eyes watering. Scent seeds wouldn’t be of any use either. Another curse rang louder in his ears.
“Mystery seeds…” He mumbled out. Mystery seeds were the ones they’d need for poisoning.
“Are you a fucking woodland creature? Why do you have so many blasted seeds?!” The voice above him raged, and Legend chuckled deliriously. He wasn’t sure where he was anymore, wasn’t sure what was happening. His vision swirled, and his mind caught on fire.
“I am.” he responded dumbly. Bunnies lived in the woods. The third crack of a seed echoed in the chamber, and his magic responded fast. His magic swirled around his feet, soaking in the power of the seed. He heard a muttered conversation but couldn’t pick out the words. The wash of mystery that surrounded him cleared his vision, and the fire in his veins abated. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the pungent healing smell of the mystery seeds. A hand tapped at his cheek, and a voice panicked and shrill reached his ears.
“Did that work? Are you alright?” Purple eyes blinked open to see red ones staring back at him. He rubbed a blood-soaked hand against his head, trying to rid himself of the rest of his confusion. A pressing pain seared his stomach again, and he looked down. Four was applying pressure to his wound, small hands covered in his lifeblood.
“I’m back; sorry about that, Smithy.” He responded roughly. He held onto his own wound now; it wasn’t in a lethal spot, it just hurt like hell, like all abdominal wounds. The arrow had been removed, but he didn’t have any potions, and neither did his brother.
“It’s alright, but you’ll need some actual medical attention, or preferably a potion.” Four responded, his face creased in concentration. Legend grunted in agreement. He stared around the dungeon walls, dank and dark. They were in Four’s era, but the monsters were always a surprise. Somehow, the monsters could hop worlds, being stuck in every time and place the heroes found themselves in. This room was a dead end, nowhere to go. They’d fallen through the top. A large pot lay in the corner of the room. The bladetraps sat still across the room.
Four was up and about, searching for some sort of provision as Legend continued to press into his wound. Neither of them even had bandages; their supplies were thin, and their group was separated.
“Can we bomb a wall in here?” He asked the Smithy. His eyes were still adjusting, still swaying around in his vision like he was drunk. Four ran his hands over the walls in the room, sighing in defeat. Legend was growing cold, the bleeding still steady, his blood coating the backs of his legs in the pool he was lying in. It didn’t look great for him, but he refused to believe he would die in a dungeon from such a simple wound. He’d fought literal demon kings and witches. He had scaled mountains and swamps alike. He refused to die by a poisoned arrow from a fucking bokoblin. Ravio would make fun of him, and Fable would be disappointed. He wanted to see them again; he wasn’t ready to let go. He didn’t want to die, not here, not now.
He had so much more he wanted to do. He wanted to see all of his brothers, to tell them goodbye, to tell them he loved them despite his harsh words and crass attitude. Four snapped his fingers together, a smile on his face as he rushed over.
“Okay, there’s a pathway under that pot. I’ll go and get us some help.” The description was vague, but Legend felt his mind tip as another wash of pain encompassed him. He leaned back down, his head so heavy, his limbs growing tired.
“Okay, I’ll wait here.” He said, exhausted. Four looked at him worriedly and darted away, a new urgency in his step. He watched half-dazed as a cane was procured out of the Smithy’s magic bag. The magic on it was strange , inverted, and strong. He wanted to ask to see it, to figure the artifact out, but Four activated it, and the pot turned upside down suddenly. Legend stared at it wide-eyed, not sure if he’d seen that correctly. A little hole was at the bottom of it now, and Four glanced at him before more magic swept over the hero, and Legend lost sight of him completely. Panic seized him for a second and he called out.
“Smithy?” His voice wavered, his lungs heavy. He heard a tiny noise call out to him, and his eyes searched the floor. Another little squeak echoed in the cavern, and his ear flicked to try and capture more of the sound. There , a tiny figure scurried across the floor. He recognized the patchwork tunic, the mop of blonde hair. The shortest member of their group had grown even smaller. He watched with glazed eyes as Four disappeared under the pot. The Smithy was full of secrets as well it seemed.
Four had to leave. There was no way around it. The seeds had cured Legend of some of his delirium but it hadn’t helped the wound itself. Whatever the arrow was coated in prevented his blood from clotting, preventing his brother from stabilizing. A rather small wound by their standards was now life-threatening.
He watched anxiously as he saw more blood pulse out of the wound, despite still being held down. Every heartbeat sent fresh warm liquid out of Legend’s body and onto the cold dungeon floor. It should have stopped long before. Four couldn’t leave the arrow in; the poison had been dripping down the shaft and into the open wound. He’d snapped it in half and flung the dart away when Legend had seized. His blood showed none of the signs of clotting and poured out of him continually. If he couldn’t get them out of here, if he couldn’t find help, Legend was going to bleed to death.
He’d scoured the room, no puzzles, no bombable walls, no secret keys, hell there hadn’t even been a door! They’d dropped in through the false door above them and now there was no way going up. The blade traps sat waiting in the corner. Four glanced at his toes, thankful that Legend had seen the sharp traps in time. He mourned that it had cost his brother dearly; he should have been more attentive, more prepared. The time to berate himself was later though, and hopefully, the Veteran himself would have some choice words for him at the end of this.
There was a pot though in the opposing corner. While on this adventure he hadn’t encountered one like this, but they were in his world now. He cast his lantern over to it again, and he saw the little hole on the top of it. He’d have to try. He stood up on his tiptoes to inspect it just to make sure, then snapped his fingers together in hope as he ran back to the Veteran.
“Okay, there’s a pathway under that pot. I’ll go and get us some help.” He told Legend and the hero responded, but his words were so slurred he couldn’t understand.
His Picori Cane came out and with a flick of his wrist, the pot inverted. The magic in the room grew, and he felt Legend’s poke and prod at him, trying to ask for assistance that the Veteran himself would never voice. Purple eyes tracked his movements still, even half-dead, half-delirious, the hero was curious. He glanced back at his brother, pale and panting, eyes glazed over and his head nodding forward.
He needed to be fast. He clutched at his feathered earring, the enchantment on it strong. He mumbled out the words that Ezlo had taught him and suddenly the world was growing and he was shrinking. He winced as he heard Legend call out panicked. He hadn’t thought the hero would understand, but he should have told him. He squeaked as loud as possible in his tiny form, and purple eyes searched the floor for him. The Vet’s face eased when he saw him scamper forward and Four would have to take it as a win.
He hurried to the pot; his hope was for access to another room, for a fairy, a potion, his other brothers, for goddess-forsaken bandages, anything. The passageway was dank and he wrinkled his nose in derision. His little boots splashed in unknown substances in the corridor. He hurried along, faster, his breath puffing out, his leg muscles burning. The corridor was long; how long had he been away now? His heart beat rapidly, and sweat poured from under his headband. He could feel his heart breaking, his eyes red. Vio calculated the time, only seven minutes had elapsed. There was still time, Green rallied. There was no fucking way Legend was going to die, Blue raged.
His eyes burned; if he didn’t return with something , Legend would die. His brother could already be dead now. He scrubbed the thought from his brain; Legend was far too stubborn to die like that. Out of all of them their Veteran had faced terrible odds again and again and still survived. He’d been on more than double the adventures of the most experienced of the rest of them and still he persevered. Four refused to let him die in his homeworld. He pushed himself further. There, up ahead!
A light shone out and the pervading smell faded, a cozy magic filling the passageway and lifting his heart. Fresh tears filled his eyes as he slid around the doorway and into the tiny room. His heart surged with hope and he was vindicated. Minish occupied this dungeon. His fellows greeted him warmly, asking if they could help. He explained the situation hurriedly and they gathered around. Their squeaky language spilled from his lips and concern shot through the whole group, their ears and tails standing to attention. A poultice was wrapped in leaves and they followed him back from where he’d come as fast as they could go.
Time moved slowly, and Legend found his eyes blinking lazily. He stared at the pot; sometimes it was right side up, sometimes it was upside down. He wondered what he was waiting for. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. His hand still pressed weakly to a leaking wound that grew colder by the minute.
His hair was wet, his nose steeped in the smell of blood. He wrinkled it; he didn’t care for blood much. He laughed under his breath - he didn’t care much for blood, and yet his whole life had been soaked in it. Purple eyes dragged downwards and saw the pool he was lying in. He grunted in disgust. Why was there so much blood? His feet kicked out feebly in an attempt to drag himself away from it. His stomach lit up in pain and he gave up.
He looked back at the pot. He was waiting for something, wasn’t he? A shiver ran over him. That couldn’t be good. He breathed shakily. Is this what dying felt like?
He saw the Triforce etched into the back of his hand and scoffed. What an end for a Legend, huh? The thought made him laugh, and pain seized his stomach again as he curled around the wound, his whole side damp with his blood. He wished whatever he was waiting for would hurry up.
His eyes kept slipping closed and then reopening slowly. He was so tired, which wasn’t anything new, but it felt all-encompassing now. He felt something climbing up him. Purple eyes dragged down to his chest; a tiny creature was scampering up his tunic. Its magic felt familiar, its form new. A few more creatures appeared on him, and he grunted, trying to form a sentence with his drunken tongue.
He heard a language he didn’t understand, quiet and quick. His ears perked up, his mind attempting to process it because dammit it all he loved learning new languages. His heart felt slow, his mind gone. They were on his wound, pressing something into it. He found he didn’t care now; there was nothing he could do to stop or help them. Heat pressed into him, warm and overwhelming in his frigid state. A new smell filled the air and he found it pleasant when compared to the metallic stench of his own blood. His brother, small and fragile, climbed up his chest and pressed a small hand to his cheek. Legend stared at him wide-eyed, no words able to form on his lips.
“I have some friends who are going to help you.” The Smithy said, and Legend looked back to his wound and the tiny creatures. He knew of them; he’d read the stories, and he’d searched endlessly as a child to find some in his land. His search had been futile, and to see the little creatures now, he still struggled to believe.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the Minish that were patching up his wound. Already he was feeling better, magic swirling around him, entangling in his own. He breathed deeper and found the healing smell of the poultice tingled at the inside of his lungs. His ears perked up again at the strange tongue of the Minish and he heard Four answer back in their language. He’d have to take lessons, even if he never got the opportunity to speak it again. Four turned back to him and his eyes flickered through their colors before landing on green.
“You can see them?” He asked, astonished. Legend coughed, his tongue loosening the longer he breathed in the medicine.
“Yeah?” He asked incredulously. He knew the lore, knew that only children were supposed to see them, which should make the Smithy unable to see them as well. Four squinted at him suspiciously. He squinted right back, neither giving up their age. The Smithy shook his head with a chuckle and looked fondly back at the Veteran.
“Sorry it took so long.” His words were impossibly soft and anguished. Legend knew he’d been scared, hell, the Veteran had thought this was going to be the end for him as well. He tipped his head back against the wall of the dungeon and sighed, tired. It was no one’s fault, not at the end of all things. He would die when his time came to an end and he doubted it would be by the hands of something so simple. He’d faced off against demons and gods, nightmares and monsters. He’d go out the way he was meant to and not a moment too soon.
“S’alright Smithy. Not your fault.” He mumbled out because feelings were complicated and he was shit at expressing them. The fog that had engulfed him still lingered. His skin was still cold, his blood still missing. A red potion could help but for the moment he would still be down for the count. His muscles ached, his breath still short, and his head was still dizzy. They would still need to get out of here; they would still need assistance of some sort. Four couldn’t carry him, and Legend was loath to admit that he couldn’t stand, let alone walk.
His blood was cool against the backs of his knees, drying on his skin and making him itchy. He’d like to move away from it, to be free of the stickiness that surrounded him. The little Minish finished their help and scurried up to his face. He barely breathed, too enamored to speak. They squeaked and Four answered back.
“They’ve stopped the bleeding; the poison shouldn’t be an issue anymore. They can’t do anything more for your blood loss though.” The Smith stated factually. Legend appreciated his directness. More words were spoken between the creatures and soon they were retreating. He panicked.
“Tell them I said thank you.” He said hurriedly. He wanted to give them some gift, some form of gratitude. He frantically found his seed satchel and scooped four of each type of seed out. Four’s eyes widened but a smile graced his lips. He called out to them and they stopped. He lifted his hand up in a shaky wave and smiled at them. They squeaked back and returned. He gently handed each of the Minish one seed of every kind. He didn’t have too many left after being away from Holodrum for years, but this was a fair exchange, a gift he longed to give. Each of them took his offering and bowed with a squeak. He felt his heart lighten, his childhood dreams realized before him.
A surge of magic grew next to him and Four was back at his normal short height. Legend sighed as he tipped his head back once again. His mind was still moving slowly, and now they’d need a plan on what to do next. His brain throbbed even thinking about it. He shuffled his legs around again, hissing at the effort. He wanted out of this pool of blood.
His brother knew him well. Four moved next to him and wrapped his arms under the Veteran’s armpits, dragging him awkwardly out of the pool of blood. That was nicer. His eyelids were so tired, and he struggled to keep them open. He let out a grunt as he was deposited against the wall.
“I think our best course of action is to rest for a while.” Four commented. Legend couldn’t agree more. The Smithy took a seat next to him, Four’s head thunked back against the wall as well. Legend nodded forward, his eyes heavy. The Smithy pulled on Legend’s sleeve. The Veteran was helpless to stop from slumping against his shoulder.
“I think you’re right, Smithy.” He responded, slurred and slow. He heard a soft chuckle next to him.
“They said the poultice could cause this reaction; it’s best if you get some rest and recoup, Vet.” Four’s cheek landed on the top of Legend’s head and he huffed in agreement, words suddenly too hard. Sleep overtook him.
He woke up suddenly to the sound of a bomb and dust and debris raining down on them. Hyrule’s poofy head popped into the opening and he grinned wide and unhinged as he stepped over the destruction. Green eyes found him and darkened with worry but his brother still smiled. The magic of his successor was pure and sweet and encompassed the room, Legend basked in his presence.
Four stood up and Legend looked up to him as well. Relief washed over both of them.
“Found you!” Hyrule called out with glee as he walked silently through the wreckage he’d caused. Legend smiled at his successor; it was time to leave this place.