Ludo's Home for the Elderly and Infirmed

[Flak]

Flak sat with his legs crossed, one over the other, slouching in his seat.

It had not been a very productive day, though Flak certainly was not one to be productive. It was a Tuesday, the day Flak 'entertained' the Home's residents with trickery and juggling. Of course, both of these talents require audience attention and participation, and these are difficult to glean from an elderly audience, the better half of which is asleep.

So that was why he sat slouched over, instead of performing his many feats of wonder, his eyes closed, simply absorbing the atmosphere around him. The atmosphere, unfortunately, consisted of stale herbs and dried drool, the overall ambiance completed with the sounds of weak snoring from the Home's many denizens. It was a day to do nothing, Flak thought. At least, it would have been a day to do nothing.

"Flak," said Ludo, the Home's owner, "I need a volunteer to go up and minister to Old Man Lonvic. It's been a while since our last visit, and I need someone to go see if he's all right."

"And to convince him to join the Home?" Flak asked, his eyes still closed, knowing full well that the answer was 'yes'.

Ludo stammered. "I-I'm sure I hadn't thought of that, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"Correction," said Flak, holding up one long, white finger,"It would hurt to ask. Remember last time?"

The ugly incident hung unspoken in the air, though both men knew to what Flak was referring. That particular Nurse from the Home had gone to Old Man Lonvic's with an oppressingly cheerful smile, and had returned battered and bruised (both emotionally and physically), as Lonvic had not only yelled and made a scene, but also driven her off with a very sharp piece of wood.

"Nevermind that," said Ludo, "I'm sure he's had time to think it over. And maybe he'll say yes! So I need that volunteer."

"And by 'volunteer'," Flak used his fingers as apostrophes, sarcastically emphasizing the facade of Ludo's 'volunteer mission', "You mean me."

Ludo chewed on his lip in uncertainty, before coming to a conclusion. "Yes," he said, "Yes I do."

"Fantastic," breathed Flak. He sighed, his shoulders curled forward as he did so, as if someone had sucked all of the air out of his relaxed posture. "Let's do this."

[Tammet Lonvic]

Old Man Lonvic sat on his porch, relishing the delicious afternoon.

It was quiet for once, not even his hoards of goats wanted to spoil the golden sunlight, and he was sprawled out in a rickety chair, smoke pouring from his pipe.
Great puffs of it leaked out of his mouth, floating upwards in glorious wisps, as Link closed his eyes and sighed.

He let his muscles slacken their rigidity, let his head roll back against the ridge of his seat, and settled into a kind of half-sleep. His entire countenance was enveloped in a hazy cocoon of lazy comfort, which was immediately ruined by a sudden knocking on his door.

Link shot upwards, extinguished his pipe, and swore. He scrambled into his ramshackle cabin, trying to hastily assemble his 'Old Man Lonvic' facade. He stuffed the pillow into his britches and threw a handful of white powder haphazardly into his hair, covering it and his pointed ears in his cotton cap. He ruffled the edges of his hair so it stuck out as though it had been struck by lightning, then, not fully satisfied with his disguise (but not endowed with the time to set it completely to rights, either), let out a completely unintelligible grunt.

"Eeeuggh!!"

Flak had prepared himself for this, but not by steeling his nerves for combat or mentally prepping himself, oh, no. Flak prepared as he always prepared: he did absolutely nothing.

"All right then," he mumbled, before he raised his voice to conversational volumes and said, "Mr. Lonvic, I'm here with Ludo's Home for the Elderly and Infirmed. Can I come in?"

Flak did not want to come in, nor did he want to be there, but this was simply a way to get a paycheck, not a moral calling to minister to the old folks.

Tammet was in a similar position, as he did not want Flak to be there either.

"Eh? What's that?" he called, though he knew exactly what had been said.

"Can I come in?" repeated Flak.

Tammet opened the door a crack, just enough to let out a whiff of rotting meat and old alcohol and to allow a glimpse of watery old eyes and crazy white hair. Though Flak might have been expecting this scene, Tammet certainly wasn't expecting a Zora.

"Whadja say? Heh?" grunted Tammet, successfully masking his surprise at the fish-humanoid on his doorstep.

"Can I come in? Or not. I mean, I'm all right with standing out here," said Flak, "I don't need to come in. I'm just here to make sure you're alive."

Tammet resisted the urge to chuckle, replying instead with another barbaric grunt and a hastily yelled, "I dun need no talkin' fancy-fish here pesterin' me an botherin' me, no sir! You run oft, fish! I ain't here!"

Flak raised an eyebrow. Old Man Lonvic really was off his rocker. Clearly he was there, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to tell the Zora he wasn't, and so Flak took that as a sufficient answer that Lonvic was both alive and an unwilling participant in the Home's activities.

"I'm running off. I'm going. Relax. Breathe," answered Flak, in his usual mellow.

"An' donchoo sass me neither! Don' need no fool tellin' me to breathe in mah own place an' mah own porch! I'll breathe when I damn well please, you crazy fish!"

"Don't worry, sir, the crazy fish is leaving," said Flak. He gave his customary two-fingered salute, which sent Old Man Lonvic into another fit. At least, it was a fit to Flak. To Link, it was hilarious.

"Soljer fish! I ain't joinin' no fish-army nohow! Yer after me! Yer after me you crazy fish army soljers! Stay away!"

"I'll stay away."

"I ain't skeered uh no fish-army!"

"I'm sure you aren't."

"Steer clear, fishy!"

"I'll be sure to."

The hospice nurse left then, having never even raised his voice nor taken a sarcastic tone. He dragged his webbed feet in his usual apathetic manner, back to report to Ludo how unsuccessful the attempt had been (once again).

Tammet, however, smoothed his hair back, had a good laugh, and went back to the balmy blanket of the golden afternoon.

[Izak Malinkos]

Izak felt slightly ill at ease.

Kakariko, while not full-on desert, was still arid and hot. Ordon, with its pleasantly cool shade dappling the afternoon, was a foreign concept to the Sheikah. Nevertheless, variety was the spice of life, and so Izak merely swallowed his faint discomfort and pulled out a broad smile.

It had been exactly as easy as he'd expected, ferretting out the information that the Hero might potentially perhaps have remained in Ordon, though the world seemed to have trouble believing a Sheikah, and his source had not been at all reliable. However, a drunk's supposition was as good a guess as the next, and besides, Izak had still had plenty of time to search if the hint ended up being a dud. Time enough to return the horse he absconded with, to sneak back into Hyrule Castle City, and squeeze out another offhanded guess induced by enough liquor to inebriate Death Mountain. What a way to spend a year of isolation; Izak doubted any other Sheikah student had half as much fun during theirs.

He called it his 'vacation' - trying to relive the events of some fifty years past. This involved visiting the people who'd lived them, and since the Twilight Hero had faded into the background of this very forgettable village, Izak hardly thought him capable of leaving. The Hero had always been a creature of habit, as was Izak.

It was this habit that had him crouching in the trees, grinning like a baboon, as he watched the people scurry below him, his red eyes scanning for any hints as to the location of his quarry. Indeed, he could hardly call it anything else. He might have titled it as his 'vacation', but in all reality it was a hunt. Izak was, after all, in training to be a predator, for even a simpleton knows that the best defense is a good offense. No one could be better suited to predation than Izak, and he did it while smiling, besides.

So he sat, crouched and waiting, watching the small farming village beneath him trudge slowly along the paths of progress, and feeling an eternity away from Hyrule Castle City.

[Flak]

Ludo did not seem surprised when Flak returned with no happy news for him. Old Man Lonvic was still alive, and the Home was still down one grumpy elderly resident, which meant Ludo was down one paying relative. Ludo did seem slightly alarmed, however, that Flak returned unscathed.

"Ahdunno," slurred Flak, "Guess he wasn't in the hitting mood."

"Interesting," said Ludo, "He must be weakening!"

"Doubt it," said Flak, "His voice still packs a punch."

They lapsed back into the silence the Home seemed to demand from everyone, just staring at the floor or the walls, whichever suited them. It was frightfully boring, managing old people, and neither Flak nor Ludo were particularly suited to it. Ludo was, after all, in it for the money, and Flak was in it simply because he didn't feel like going anywhere else.

And so they sat, just waiting, but never expecting, for something interesting to happen.

[Izak Malinkos]

Surveillance, Izak discovered, was much more comfortable when one was not crouching in a tree like some sort of buzzard.

Now, here he was, swaggering through the one dirt road Ordon possessed, the stolen horse meandering along beside him. His traditional Sheikah garb was tucked underneath the horse's saddle as a makeshift pad, while he wore his torn-off pants and shirt instead. There was nothing to be done about his hair or his eyes, and so his excuses for them were simply elaborate, should anyone ask about them.

Not many people did ask about them, of course; country folk are not openly curious, rather subtly so. Gossip is, after all, done behind closed doors, and that is where the most pressing questions are asked - about the person, rather than directly to them.

So Izak, with his prepared excuses and broad smiles, walked about uninterrupted in Ordon Village, unless he did the interrupting. Which he did.

"Hello there," he began, "You wouldn't happen to know where, say, old people live, would you?"

The farmer he was addressing looked at him in a rather odd manner, as if he were trying to figure the Sheikah out. "Uh," he stuttered, "You lookin' fer someone perticaler?"

"Nah," answered Izak, "Just general. General old people. Who are generally old."

The farmer did not comment on what a singularly abnormal pursuit it was for a young man, nor whether he had some ulterior motive for seeking out the elderly. He merely shrugged, then pointed up the road.

"There's ol' Ludo's home for them old folks," he said, "It's uppa road aways, I reckon, not much further on. It'll be on the left."

"Left," repeated Izak, "Fantastic. Thank you!"

Izak pulled the horse after him, one hand shielding his red eyes from the on-coming sunset, as he looked for this 'Ludo's Home'.

The farmer merely scratched his head, wondering why in the world a young man with queer eyes was hunting after Ordonians in their autumnal years.

[Flak]

Having absolutely nothing to do can be both a pleasure and a pain.

On the one hand, there's nothing required of you. You are free to do as you please.

On the other hand, this can be painfully dull.

It was the second of the two which Flak found himself experiencing, the painful dullness of life at Ludo's. Not that Flak minded, of course. He wasn't one to mind much, as there hadn't ever been much to mind. He simply sat there, his arm-fins swishing every now and then to remind the world that he was, in fact, alive. His eyes were closed, his shoulders slumped, and his arms crossed. It was best to zone out during painful dullness, the Zora discovered. It somewhat eases the 'pain'.

Flak was on the verge of becoming a Zora statue, when, suddenly, the painful dullness was shattered by a very strange voice.

"Hi, fish!" the voice began, "I'm looking for an old person."

Though he did not particularly enjoy being called 'fish', Flak was interested despite himself. The voice was cheerful, and yet slightly off, as if the voice's head wasn't set on quite straight. It intrigued Flak in the singular oddness of it, and so he opened his eyes.

Standing before him, with a very broad smile, was a young man. He had pale hair and scarlet-tinted eyes, a broken nose, and obnoxiously obvious biceps, complete with tattoos.

Flak blinked at him once, and then once more for good measure, before replying.

"An old person, huh?" He uncrossed his arms and prepared to stand up, "You've come to the right place."

"I figured," answered the young man, "Since the sign by the door said 'Ludo's Home for the Elderly and Infirmed'. Now, if you were selling tigers and had a sign like that, well, that'd be another matter entirely."

"I guess it would be," replied Flak, "But we're not selling tigers."

"I know," said the other.

After giving it some thought, Flak added, "Or old people, either."

The young man laughed, it was more of a ridiculous giggle, before he stated, "Don't be a half-spoiled mushroom from Zora Valley. Of course you don't sell old people. That's just silly."

Flak answered the young man's laugh with a small smile of his own. "Just checking," he responded, "You had me going for a second there."

The young man gave a very broad smile, before extending his hand. "My name's Izak. Izak Malinkos. And I'm looking for my great-uncle who was probably once or thrice removed on my mother's side."

"Flak Arunnen," answered the Zora as he shook the freshly introduced Izak's hand. "Can you remove uncles?" he asked, once standing.

Izak made an exaggerated face of 'I don't know', then shrugged. "You can remove cousins, right? So why not uncles?"

Flak repeated the shrug, and replied, "Ahdunno. What's the name of this uncle of yours?"

"I forgot," Izak lied, "I usually forget relatives."

"Aren't they the ones that you're supposed to remember?" questioned Flak.

"Maybe it works that way for fish. If it's supposed to work that way for me, then I'm in trouble." Izak smiled, then waved his hand, as if introducing a completely inconsequential topic. "Besides, I don't really remember names. I remember faces, though."

Flak's head-tail flicked unconsciously, as if it was startled by the oddness of Izak Malinkos. Flak's brain, on the other hand, was not, and so it smoothly responded with, "So you want me to check in on every male resident in this place so you can see if you know them or not?"

"Yep, that sounds about right."

Flak, finally relieved that something was happening here, smiled broadly, showing his remotely pointy teeth. "All right," he said, "Fine by me. Let's do this."

[Izak Malinkos]

Izak smiled, clenched his fist, and drew it down slowly, as if he were pulling something. A "Yesssssssss...." slipped through his equally clenched teeth, before he clapped the Zora fairly roughly on the back and said, "Yes! Let's do this!"

A high-functioning sociopath, prone to predation, he may be, but at least the Sheikah was eternally cheerful. It somewhat lessened the sting.

"All right," answered Flak, trying to reach the inconvenient spot where Izak had smacked him (in brotherly love, of course). He winced a bit, rubbing the spot with his long, slightly webbed fingers, before he added, "We are so totally doing this!"

The Zora's usual apathy seemed cast-off, as though he had discarded his typical cloak of disinterest and donned one of the Sheikah's infectious excitement. He smiled broadly as he walked, then turned around to face the Sheikah.

"There's approximately fifty-too-many old people in this place...but we can narrow down your search if you remember how old your removed uncle was..." He paused a bit after the phrase 'removed uncle' left his face; Izak did the same. Both had expressions of mild confusion on their faces, but the Sheikah recovered more quickly.

"Uh, oh, I'd say he's around..." Izak calculated rapidly in his head, though he was much better with physical activities than mathematical ones, "S-sixty? Maybe more on the sixty-ish side?"

"Sixty-ish. Got it."

There were at least forty residents at the Home who fell in that age range, but only seventeen of them were male. Flak was fairly certain he knew where their rooms were, and if he didn't, he could always ask someone who would. Someone who paid attention at their job, perhaps, though that was considered a rarity at Ludo's Home for the Elderly and Infirmed.

[Flak]

The Sheikah and the Zora walked side-by-side through the oppressively silent halls of the Home, and were surprisingly comfortable in this. It wasn't awkward or, perhaps, a little creepy, that they were searching for an old-maybe-relation; it felt quite natural, as if they had known each other longer than their history of five minutes, and as if this activity of old-people-gazing was a normal one - something they did on a regular basis, even. Neither of them could quite understand it, and so neither of them did. They just went with it, or, as Flak's father would put it, 'followed the River'. Of course, 'following a River' usually provides for some sort of conversation, and so Flak supplied it.

"So why do you need to look up this removed uncle of yours?"

Izak shrugged. "My mother told me to," he half-lied; his mother really had asked him to look up an uncle, even during his Year of Isolation. The fact that this uncle lived in Hyrule Castle City had either escaped her memory or was about to be used as a springboard for her unscrupulous son to hunt out the Lost Hero. "Mothers usually tell you to look up relatives, even when you don't want to," Izak added.

Flak made a noise which was a sort of hybrid between a chuckle and a snort. "You know that's right," he replied, "They never tell you why, either. You're just expected to want to know everyone who might possibly be related to you."

Izak laughed, a short burst of high energy, which seemed so out of place in the Home (a location where the word 'high' was never followed by the word 'energy'). "True that."

They opened the first door on the hall, one behind which Flak was certain some sixty-ish buzzard lurked. Izak took one look and sized him up:

Left eye looking dry, trying to compensate for slight blindness in right.
Head cocked to the right, partial deafness in left ear.
Sits with both of his shoulders curved forward, indicating past and constant strain on back and hips.
Right hand slightly longer and knobbier than left - used more, definitely not the Hero.

"Not him," Izak whispered to his new companion; Flak was a little surprised.

"Not him? How do you know? I mean, you only looked at him for, like, two seconds."

"Yes, Flak," answered Izak, smooth as butter, "Two whole seconds. That's more than enough time to recognize a face."

"What're you two whippersnappers goin' on aboot?" asked the old coot.

"Nothing," answered Flak, before he turned to Izak, his voice dropping to a fervent whisper, "Two seconds isn't even enough time to decide if you want a sandwich, let alone recognize a removed uncle."

"Sure it is!" countered Izak, in an equally fervent (though perhaps a bit more cheerful) whisper, "You just have to know what to look for."

"Oh, is that all..." muttered Flak, who did not feel like looking for anything at any time, unless it particularly interested him.

"No, there's more. But that's the basic gist of it."

"The basic gist is knowing what to look for?"

"Basically."

"Then what's the rest of it?"

Izak paused, then shrugged. "Ahdunno," he answered.

"Oh. Great."

[Flak]

Fifteen situations spilled out in a similar manner, and both the Shiekah and the Zora were getting bored. Izak hadn't expected searching through an old person's home to be particularly exciting, but this was beyond mind-numbing, the opening and shutting of doors, brutally attacked by the savage sickly-sweet smell of medicinal herbs, not to mention the distinct odor of mothballs.

"How do you do this every day?" asked Izak, after another old person had failed the 'I'm the Lost Hero' test.

Flak shrugged. "Ahdunno. I just kind of zone out and let it pass by like....like water off a duck's back."

"That's stupid. You're not a duck."

Flak chuckle-snorted again. "Metaphor, man. Or simile. One of the two."

Izak smiled. "Until you pick which one, I'm going to make as many 'you're not a duck' jokes as I can."

A female nurse approached them then, greeting Flak as moderately attractive young women greet exponentially attractive fish.

"H-h-hi Flak," she began, "Who's this?"

Izak introduced himself. "Izak Malinkos. You're not a duck."

The startled expression on her face was enough to induce Flak's chuckle-snort. "He's looking up an old uncle. I'm showing him around."

"Oh," breathed the nurse.

"The old uncle's not a duck either," commented Izak.

[Izak Malinkos]

The nurse was following them.

It was, they supposed, a natural reaction upon seeing two such gods in Sheikah and Zora form. What was any mortal female supposed to do, besides follow the two Adonises around with an addlepated expression?

Of course, this raised the question as to who she was following more, and since the last potential-uncle resided at the end of a very long hall, this provided Flak and Izak with more than enough time to debate attractiveness.

"Hey," whispered Izak, giving Flak the slight nudge with the elbow that all young men at one time or another seem inclined to give, "That girl's totally checking us out."

Flak lifted his head-tail and stole a surreptitious look backwards. "Uh huh," he agreed, "She does this all the time. Well, this is the first time she's actually followed me, though."

Izak sniffed, one white eyebrow rising proudly as his lips curled into what he assumed was a sexy sneer. "It's cause I'm here."

Flak looked at the Sheikah. He let out a laugh. It felt a tiny bit unnatural, as their acquaintance was so brief, but at the same time Flak thought that he could get away with a gentle rib.

"You?" he asked, which he followed with an incredulous sounding snort, "Please, boy. Who'd follow after a nose like yours?"

"Women with good taste."

Flak laughed as quietly as he could manage, his elbow-fins flapping merrily. "Really? That's your logic?"

Izak nodded. "That is my logic, and it makes more sense for women to be attracted to an exotically shaped nose than to a fish."

"Fish, nothing. Fish have sex appeal."

Izak laughed, that same manic, high pitched giggle he'd let out before. "Flak, don't be a giant red balloon attached to a little green man. No one's attracted to fish. That's gross and unnatural."

Flak's head tail flickered in slight annoyance, before he suddenly shouted, "Simile! It's a simile. The thing with the duck."

"And that," Izak replied, "Is why women don't follow you around. It's because you know useless things, like duck similes."

"They're not duck similes. Not all of them involve ducks."

"Well maybe they should," answered Izak, "It'd certainly make poetry more interesting."