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“Knead it, Rulie!”
“That’s what I’m doing, Ledge! Kneading it!”
The veteran gave an exasperated sigh. “No, not like that!” He cried. “You’re pounding on it like you’re trying to beat an octorok to death!” He stalked across the inn’s kitchen in a tizzy, shoving Hyrue away from the flour-dusted counter. With two strong, steady hands he massaged the mound of dough in a repetitive circular pattern. Hyrue tilted his head to the side as he watched Legend mix the stringy material together.
Every few turns the lump would send up a waft of heady, yeasty aroma, and it smelled delectable.
I bet it tastes just as good, too, he thought.
Carefully, Hyrule snuck his thumb and pointer finger in between Legend’s working hands to pinch off a sizeable gob of dough.
Nothing got by the veteran.
“Don’t do it,” he warned the traveler, pausing in his ministrations. “I swear to Hylia if you eat that raw dough, you’ll get none of the finished pie. None.” Hyrule returned Legend’s narrow-eyed challenge with a fierce scowl. He mumbled a soft curse, then jabbed the blob of uneaten, unbaked dough back into the larger lump from whence it came. Legend gave a nod of approval as he kneaded it to reincorporate the dough.
Hyrule muttered something about the veteran being a “spoilsport” or the like. Legend was about to snipe back when his sharp Hylian ears picked up on the footsteps of an approaching individual.
The soft shuffle of boots echoed through the inn’s hallway. Hyrule and Legend looked up and through the great stone arch demarcating the kitchen from the common area, curious and, as always, on edge about who could be coming to interrupt them.
“Four!” Hyrule cried in greeting. When the smithy looked up, a little startled at the shouting of his name, Hyrule sent him a beckoning wave. Doing so caused a fine dusting of flour to cascade down from his hand like snow.
The tiny hero returned the wave, pausing in the entryway. He must’ve been returning from a trip out, evidenced by the bulging leather pouches and Four Sword strapped about his belt.
“What’re you two doing in the inn’s kitchen?” He squeaked out, surveying the culinary chaos his two brothers had created.
“The innkeeper was so nice,” Hyrule gushed. Legend had to give a good-natured roll of his eyes; he knew that his brother was head-over-heels for the cute girl who’d checked them in last-minute all those days ago. He smirked. “She let us borrow the kitchen to make something for Sky!”
Four smiled. “That’s kind of you,” he said. For a few seconds he fumbled with the hem of his tunic, the red and violet squares, then looked both brothers in the eye with a friendly gaze. “Want some company?”
Legend gave a half-shoulder shrug, but didn’t mean anything unfriendly by it. “Sure,” he offered. “We’re making Sky an apple pie. Could use an extra set of hands.” The veteran gave a knowing wink at the smith, who caught his meaning.
Four sighed, then wrapped one arm about himself as he fished for the hilt of the Four Sword. He allowed himself a moment to breathe, to collect himself and gather the Colors: it’d become a habit. After all this time, he’d found it helped make the splitting less… psychologically disorienting.
With an erupting aurora of color, soon the kitchen was full with six whole Links where there once were three. All four Colors stood, lazily holding their respective swords. They all sheathed them, but remained split.
Green bent to the side in a deep stretch. He broke into a wide, obnoxious yawn. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Feels good to get out. It was getting awfully stuffy in our head.”
Blue flared. “Only because Red wouldn’t stop blubbering about one thing or another!”
The red-tunic’ed hero sniffled back what would have been a hearty wail. “I’m j-just s-so w-worried about Sk-Sk-Sky!” He managed to stutter out through suppressed sobs. Then he wrenched his head back and began to cry in earnest. Legend gave a disapproving huff, crossing his arms and tapping the toe of one Pegasus Boot. Hyrule looked about to cry himself, empathetic as he was.
“Red,” Vio cooed, placing two steadying hands atop the twin hero’s shoulders, jolting with swallowed hiccupy cries. “He’s fine. Just resting, he’ll be back to himself in no time.” The purple hero sent an apologetic smirk over to his brothers, trying to excuse his twin’s outburst. “Look, let’s help Rulie and Ledge, huh? That’ll be fun.”
Red looked up with teary, bleary eyes that he wiped on the sleeve of his tunic. He snorted back a stream of watery snot and nodded. “O- hic – okay…”
Vio collected himself with a long sigh. He turned to look back at the group and the mess they’d managed to make in such a disturbingly short time. “Now then,” he announced, clapping once. “What do you need help with?” He was sweeping his gaze around the kitchen counters, which were a mess of ingredients, utensils, and trash. “Looks like you need a lot, honestly.”
Legend glared at the purple Link. “Cut us some slack! This isn’t exactly in our wheelhouse.”
Blue snorted. “You don’t say.” He flashed a coy, mocking grin at Legend, who was now going about as pink as his bunny hair.
Hyrule made an odd face before answering. “We need help with everything, kinda.” The veteran smacked him upside the head, prompting a yelp. “What?! It’s true!”
Legend pouted, still tapping his foot, then conceded. He threw both hands up in a grandiose gesture of exasperation. “Fine,” he hissed. “Yes, we do need help with everything. We have like, ten pounds of apples to peel and chop, we have to roll out the dough to line the pan, then try and figure out how to do the lattice on top…” He trailed off into grumpy little grumbles nobody could make out. There was a hint of worry on that pinched-up face of his.
Green beamed. “That’s nothing! We’ll make short work of that together. C’mon, Red!” He exclaimed, grabbed the crimson twin’s hand. The Red hero yelped in surprise, before being unceremoniously yanked over to the towering mountain of apples.
The fruits were at the height of their ripeness: massive, round and shining, with not a single dimple or bruise to be seen. There must have been at least two dozen of them, each prettier than the last.
That all had to have cost a pretty rupee… he surmised.
Beside the pile were two impossibly sharp paring knives. The smith picked one up, found himself getting lost in his study of its craftsmanship: the temper of the metal, curve of the cutting edge, grip of the handle…
Green shook his head to clear it, lest he trigger another headache amongst the others. With careful instruction he aided Red in safely trimming away the skins from each apple. They came off in satisfying, crisp ribbons that curled back down to the counter. More than once Hyrule snuck over to grab a long strip to munch on while he and Legend worked on the dough.
The pie crust was coming along nicely, at least. Legend and Vio worked well together in rolling it out into an appropriate thickness, then delicately draping it into the bottom of a buttered dish. The two heroes took turns pinching the gooey edges around the rim until a strong seal had been formed. Once the bottom and sides were covered with a smooth layer all around, they turned to Hyrule and Blue (a little apprehensively).
Their workstation was… well, it was like a bomb had gone off. There were smears of butter, dashes of cinnamon and sugar, and an overturned flask of milk. Hyrule and Blue were both happily working in their own little world together. It would have been cuter were it not for the possibility that the pair would burn down the whole inn. Legend and Vio cringed at the sight, wordlessly agreeing to go and help them.
The traveler had assigned himself the challenging task of making the pie filling. He’d melted an extraordinary amount of butter, so much that it was bubbling over the shallow cookpot and into the fire below, sending up crackling flares of grease flame. Without bothering to measure, he took handfuls of cinnamon, sugar, and spices from jars that Legend couldn’t begin to decipher. And a dash of salt, for good measure.
“Traveler,” Legend began warily. “What, uh, what’re you doing?”
“We’re making the filling!” Blue glowed with pride, answering for Hyrule as he was too dialed in to respond. His head whipped around, back to where Green and Red were making swift progress on the apples. “GREEN! RED!” He shouted, making Vio wince. “YOU GOT ANY APPLES FOR US YET?!”
“YES BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO SHOUT!” Green yelled right back. He pat Red on the back, encouraging his brother to streak on over to the cookfire with a heaping bowl of freshly and thinly sliced apples. He dumped them clumsily into the pot, sending splashes of thick syrupy sauce everywhere. Legend cried out, patting his splattered tunic. Immediately Hyrule took up a broad wooden spoon, brandishing it with the same intensity as with his magic sword, and began to frantically stir the mixture.
Vio caught a whiff of the bubbling concoction and… his mouth watered profusely. The sweet and warm spice, with the crisp tang of fresh apples… It smelled positively delightful! An unease fizzled out in his chest.
Thank Hylia, he sighed. Guess he does know what he’s doing after all!
Vio continued to scrutinize the pot, filled with syrupy and golden caramelized apple slices. They’d all been coated and were beginning to soften up into an appetizing mush. “Hmm,” he hummed. “That looks like enough to fill the crust now. Shall we?”
Blue narrowed his eyes into the bubbling mixture, screwing up his face, then pulled away to give an approving nod. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll carry it!” Hyrule offered with his winningest, toothy grin.
Legend returned it with a wary one. “You sure you can carry that?” He looked over the traveler’s shoulders to the boiling, overfull cast iron pot. “Looks heavy. And hot.” Hyrule’s expression remained painfully optimistic. “Just… don’t drop it, okay?”
“Mhm! Sure thing!” Donning two thick oven mitts, he scooped up the cookware with a huff of exertion. Vio and Legend had to look away as the traveler stumbled across the kitchen with the filling held aloft. Everyone was secretly sending up a prayer to Hylia that he wouldn’t burn himself… or spill the filling and thus render their very thoughtful, very time-consuming gift to Sky moot.
By the grace of the goddesses, Hyrule made it. With an almighty grunt, he hoisted the pot onto the counter beside the empty crust. He removed both the mitts and clapped his hands together with a smug look on his face. An “I told you so,” of sorts.
They all worked together, using large spoons to transfer the filling into the crust. By now the whole kitchen was saturated with the warmth and aroma of their work, and the fellow inn patrons who happened to walk by seemed very intrigued by what was going on in the kitchen.
“Now, the lattice,” Legend muttered. In all honesty, this was the step he dreaded most. It required a finesse and artistry that Legend found himself… lacking. They’d spent all this time making a delicious pie, but if it looked unsightly their effort was all for nothing. Vio had rolled out the second half of the dough and used a knife to cut it into strips. All that was left was to actually lay them on top.
Please let this be easier than it sounds…
With an audible gulp, the veteran took the first strip of crust and draped it over the steaming filling.
Okay, easy enough…
Vio took the next one, laying it beside the first. Then, Blue, Red, Green, and finally Hyrule took their turns. They lay them all in one direction, then lay the first perpendicular strip and folded every other one either under or over it. And… it didn’t look half bad, if Legend said so himself. He exchanged impressed, haughty glances with Hyrule and the Colors before launching into the next row of weaves.
From then on it was easy. Relaxing, too, to gently weave the pastry in such a methodical, pleasing pattern. In a matter of minutes they were done. The top pie crust was complete, with a beautiful intertwining of evenly spaced strips. It looked a little like a picnic basket, albeit paler with the dough still raw.
“It looks awesome!” Hyrule crowed. He had a smile on his lips the likes of which Legend had never seen before. It made the traveler’s prickly heart warm and gooey… kind of like pie filling. His brother was so pleased with himself, and it was hard not to be proud of their accomplishment.
“It… does,” Blue knit his eyebrows together. “It really does.”
“Nice job, everyone,” Green hummed. Not just to the colors, but to Hyrule and Legend, too.
All four of the Colors’ stomachs erupted into anticipatory growls at the mere thought of digging into the hearty pie. They blushed, chuckling lightly, before Green commanded, “C’mon, let’s get this in the oven! We’re starving!”
Upstairs, Sky lay in the rickety inn bed feeling absolutely rotten. It was his fault they were even in this place to begin with: an out-of-the-blue asthma attack sent the chain dashing for the nearest town. He’d felt wheezy the moment they’d landed in Wild’s era: there seemed to be a fine haze of pollen everywhere they went, with the seasonal change causing the plant life to send up clouds of allergen. It’d taken less than a week for his airways to fully clog, until he found himself choking on nothing but his own mucus. They’d rushed to the closest village, Sky draped across Twilight’s back, begging the locals for help. Sky felt a horrible mixture of guilt and gratitude at the villagers’ hospitality, their eagerness to help some poor, ailing traveler.
And for all the days since, he’d been unable to do much other than sit in bed, moping, or take disproportionately exhausting walks to the bathroom. It was like all the pipework snaking around his lungs was clogged with foul goop, reducing all those tubes to mere straws. He hadn’t drawn a satisfying breath in days, and everything just ached.
Hylia, he prayed. I’m so miserable…
That is, until he smelled something. Something… mouthwatering…
He sat up in bed, shifting up to lean against the headboard. Sky couldn’t help the wince of pain as his ribs stretched. A few breaths came out as high-pitched, pathetic wheezes. The Chosen Hero would be pouting (or doubled over) were he not so intrigued by this magically enticing aroma.
Wha- he began to think as the door of his room creaked open.
“Wh-” He paused to cough wretchedly, productively too. “Who is it?” He croaked. The aroma was growing stronger, and he could hear whispers outside the door.
Just then, a veritable crowd of visitors came bursting through the door. Sky jumped a little, despite himself, at the suddenness of their arrival. Four was split into his Colors, he noticed, and was flanked by Legend and Hyrule. The veteran was holding a massive steaming dish of something. Something that was spilling forth great curls of intoxicatingly delicious-smelling steam.
“You up for a few visitors?” Four’s purple self, the one they’d come to call ‘Vio,’ hummed. All of them were wearing smug grins and sending hasty, greedy glances at whatever Legend was carrying.
It was a pie, Sky figured out after a few more seconds of scrutiny. A massive, steaming-hot pie: apple, by the smell. Its crust was a perfect golden color, the edges bulging with filling. Legend’s skinny arms were trembling with the effort of holding it on the china platter. Hyrule, too, was holding something: a stack of small desert plates and a pile of silverware.
They’d baked him a pie. Sky could cry (and frankly, he was already beginning to). The hero knew how much effort that was, as he’d tried to make one for Zelda one crisp afternoon on Skyloft, in the knight academy kitchen. That was no small feat: frustrating, and so easy to mess up. But his brothers had all come together and worked hard to make him a whole freaking pie?!
The knight was lost for words. “You.. you-” He scowled when he had to break away and catch his breath, huffing small gasps into the crook of his elbow. They all looked at him with sympathetic, worried gazes. “You made this for me?”
“For us!” Blue snorted. “You really are a bird brain if you think you’re eating this whole thing by yourself, without letting us have a slice.”
Sky chuckled, gulping back a wheeze. “I can’t believe you all did this,” he murmured. “This is the sweetest thing ever. You are the best. Just… yeah, you’re the best.”
Four’s stomachs growled again, as did Sky’s.
“Can we please eat it now?!” Red whined, assaulting all the others with heart wrenching puppy-dog eyes.
Hyrule helped Legend set the pastry down gently on the dresser across the room, withdrawing a large knife to cut massive slices of the pie and plop them onto plates. He gave everyone their serving and a fork to dig in.
No sooner did Hyrule have his serving than he was wolfing it down quite obnoxiously. The others were tucking in as well, albeit with a little more class than the rough-around-the-edges traveler.
Sky took a few moments to admire the artistry of his serving. The fine latticework of the crust was impressive; no doubt Four had helped there. The cut surface was oozing filling: a dark, caramelesque color dotted with flakes of spices. He could smell cinnamon, but couldn’t name the others that gave the aroma an appealing depth and complexity.
He bit into the treat, mouth watering at how the fork crumbled the perfectly flaky crust. He scooped a massive bite onto the tines of his fork, piling it high with thick, goopy filling and great gobs of apple. The heat of the pie and the sweet warmth of the cinnamon worked together to loosen pain and phlegm from Sky’s chest. The spice was a symphony upon his tongue, which had tasted little besides bland food and stamina potion the past week. It was like Hylia herself had sent this pie down… it was that good.
Pleasant conversation followed as their bellies grew fuller and warmer. Blue and Red launched into friendly arguments that had them all laughing hysterically. Once their plates were empty (literally licked clean, in Hyrule’s case), the traveler and the veteran came to sit beside Sky on his bed. Hyrule leaned on Legend, Legend leaned on Sky, and Sky leaned up against the headboard.
Sky found the pain dissipating in ways that no elixir ever could achieve.
It was peaceful. It was loving.