Feather Fall

Chapter one,

The things you learn…

A/N: This is a companion project for "Song of the Seagulls". I want to return to the project but am having cold feet, to combat that I'm running a series of skits, short stories, ecetera under this title and all stories here are going to be based on the "Song" scenario of my WindWaker fic. This is a tactic I use when I've got writer's block on a larger project, it's just the first time I've actually published my... hmm I'd guess you call it my "drawing board" notes for a fic in public.

It's mainly to remedy the lack of LOZ attention that's in my account. I hope all enjoy,

Kasan Soulblade.

There were some things he'd learned not to investigate. He knew he'd gone mad in times so long ago they predated the islanders "once upon a time" and that knowledge made him weary. Weary of the darkest, twisted, corridors in his mind. Where those crippled by sanity and compassion did not peak. Thus, though not crippled by such things, he abstained from inquiry about those peculiar blanks in his memory. While these spans were frustrating at times it was the best course for the remnants of the world.

For if sanity was a delicate thing than it was doubly fragile for those who'd been mad once before.

So he adamantly did not investigate when he heard the most peculiar sounds out his door way. The girl's hollering might have warranted a quick peak, but when Wolfkaunos barked something of the effect of "come back right now!" Ganondorf knew the matter was well in hand.

And that the girl would easily slip out of those hands, scamper away, and cause as much havoc as possible. Still Wolfkaunos would keep it from being of the incendiary kind, and that's all that mattered.

Other noises sounded, a Moblin howling, a Wall Master's irate humming, indicating it was on the chase of something, and the somewhat hysterical "two"ing of a certain shadow chu-chu.

Though the sounds drew near he did not open his window and look out, sad experience taught him it was better that way.

Because the one time it had gotten to his door he looked outside. Dropped his characteristic belligerence and was curious enough to look in on the play.

And, well, he'd learned a few things. That shadow chu-chus were horribly ticklish, green jelly could burn in the bottle, and if it was shaken while burning, without a lid, it would explode like a mobile volcano.

There were just some things one could go centuries without learning.

He'd learned other things that day too. That green jell did not come out of anything. Wolfkaunos had known, had replaced an armguard and the breastplate of his armor rather than fool around with oil and rubbing to get the muck off.

Ganondorf, made overconfident by his ages of knowledge, the fact he possessed the Triforce of Power, had decided to ignore Wisdom's call and had tried to clean the stuff off. For all his efforts, through soakings, scrubbings, and scrapings, Ganondorf had been force to concede that the Wolfos Knight had known what he was doing.

In a frenzy of frustrated cleaning the Gerudo had worn a hole in his robes, several holes, and after that miss-adventure had decided a burning would do. So he indulged in a spot of arson, swept the remains of the clothes outside, and had aired out his quarters.

He'd also invested in a lock.

It was an oddity for a thief to own a lock. Silly really. He could pick the lock, any lock ever made, actually. His people were a race of thieves and all and he'd been king of the thieves. On, reflection, he mused as he stood, pulling said lock from its place on a nearby table. Due to his Goddess' benevolence he could just break any door down ever made, being the Bearer of the Triforce of Power did have its benefits.

He could, also, in an emergency incinerate, overpower, and chop and dice any would be interloper, intruder, or irritant. Well, in most cases. His present... guest… and her antics had more than shown that he'd lost a bit of his edge over the centuries. Perhaps, he was, as the Hylian's said, "getting soft". If so, it might be reasonable, six thousand years and all having passed from his stories violent start to the rather ho hum span he was immersed in now.

But then, considering how he'd decimated his latest foe (said foe was pinning the remains of its miserable life in an animal pen, stripped of all wit and knowledge and there it would stay until some feast required pork), overthrown a coup, all while deprived of his power.

Perhaps not

He'd have to think about that for a while.

Before his door, lock in hand, he snapped it over the knob, muttering a quiet incantation to insure that it wouldn't be picked. Thus security, sanity, and semi quiet assured, Ganondorf Dragos Dragmire went to his desk and its awaiting mess of maps, calculations, and sighed. The ruckus had grown louder, so much for undisturbed plotting.