Hysterics in Hyrule : Marin and the Moblins of Mirth (*/ff tickling)

[Gargalesis Ghost]

Yet more Legend of Zelda tickling, this time featuring Marin and Crazy Tracy from Link's Awakening. Contains primarily */ff tickling (monsters), tickle torture, gang tickling, genital tickling, and kidnapping.

______​

“But are you sure you can’t stay and sing for us just a little while longer, Marin?” The rabbit tilted his head to one side as he asked, his voice trembling just a little at the thought of Marin leaving the Animal Village and heading back to Mabe Village. Several of the other animals from the village milled about nearby, pretending to be busy with other tasks, but she could tell they were all hovering closer to try and hear her answer.


“I wish I could stay a bit longer,” she said, crouching and adjusting the flower in her red hair, “but Tarin will get worried if I’m gone for too long. Besides, Link might need my help with something again like when he brought me here to wake up Walrus.” Marin really did love visiting Animal Village and singing for them, but she couldn’t spend all her time there, especially not with Link scouring all of Koholint in search of a way to leave the island. “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can.”


The rabbit looked disappointed, but he nodded anyway. “Say, what do you think Link needed in Yarna Desert? It’s dangerous to go alone there. Everyone was surprised when he came back.”


“I wish I knew.” She knew that he was looking for a way to wake up the Wind Fish, but that was all. And it wasn’t as though Link was much of a talker, either. She couldn’t even remember if she’d heard him speak more than two consecutive words. “Still, I want to get back to Mabe in case he needs help again.”


“Okay. Will you be alright heading back alone? What about the moblins?”


“Granny made it here safely by herself,” Marin said, tipping her head in the direction of Grandma Ulrira, who stood in the corner of the village with a new broom that Link had dropped off a couple days prior. “Besides, Link defeated the Moblin King shortly after he washed ashore. They’ve been disorganized since then.”


“If you say so, but I still think it’d be better if someone went with you. Maybe the artist?”


“It’ll be fine,” Marin said, patting the rabbit on his head, then she stood and straightened her simple dress and adjusted the flower in her hair again. “Well, I’ll be off, then!” The rabbit watched her go, his ears drooping and worry clouding his heart.


Marin passed one of the islands telephone booths just outside the village and paused, briefly wondering whether or not she should call ahead to Mabe Village and ask Old Man Ulrira to let Tarin know she was on the way back, but decided against it. It wasn’t terribly far, and the moblins had been much more tame since Link had put their king down. Humming happily to herself, she passed the booth by, heading instead for the rope bridge stretching across the northern section of Martha’s Bay.


A moment passed, then another, and once Marin was well out of sight two moblins stepped around the telephone booth and stared at the light prints her sandals had left in the dirt. One held aloft a spear that, curiously, held a huge, stiff feather at the end rather than a spearpoint of metal or stone and pointed in the direction the red head had walked while the other splayed out on the ground, sniffing at the footprints and making excited rumbles deep in its throat.


“What do you think?” asked the moblin holding the strange feather-tipped spear. It rested the haft of the weapon on the ground and leaned on it, watching its mate sniffing at the footprints.


“She smells of flowers and honey, and her voice is like music itself,” the other moblin said, still snuffling every last trace of Marin’s scent it could from the grass. “She’ll make a fine sacrifice.” It finally stood and adjusted the scabbard slung onto its back before pulling a sword from it. The weapon had a very simple hilt, but where the blade should be there was instead, like the spear, a huge, stiff feather, this one dwarfing even the one at the end of the spear.


“What about the regicide?” The spear wielder looked down at its mate, its face covered in worry. Ever since Link had arrived on Koholint and promptly slaughtered their king, the different moblin tribes had grown a healthy fear of the green-clad warrior. Especially the ones from the Mirth tribe, as their particular proclivities leaned in a different direction than the standard moblin warrior and battle was not their forte.


“I can’t pick up his scent at all. He’s likely somewhere else on the island entirely,” the sword wielding moblin said as it stood up. “Still, if we’re going to take her, we should do it soon. I imagine the regicide will be looking for her once she doesn’t show up in the village.”


Spear scratched his snout and nodded. “That’s a good point. Let’s go. More of our tribe are waiting outside of Kanalet. She’ll need to pass by the castle to return to her village. We’ll take her before she makes it there.” Sword nodded in agreement, and the two mobilins disappeared into the thick underbrush outside of Animal Village.


Marin, oblivious, stopped on the bridge to wave to Martha, the resident mermaid of Martha’s Bay, as she sunbathed on a rock jutting out of the water. Martha waved back, playfully splashing water at her with her tail, and Marin giggled. She couldn’t wait to get back to Mabe Village and tell Link and Tarin about having fun with everyone in Animal Village. Waving once more to the mermaid, she continued across the bridge and onto the road that skirted Kanalet, pausing another moment to take a deep breath and stretch, enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun as it spread through her. It was going to be a great day, she could just feel it.


______


The road, for the most part, followed the river as it cut farther north into the island. A few monsters milled about, popping out of the water on occasion, or in the case of the octoroks, scrabbling around the long grass next to the road when she passed. None of them seem inclined to attack Marin, though, which was both a relief and a bit odd. Generally the creatures would at least spit rocks at passersby even if they didn’t outright approach them.


“Maybe they feel like it’s a good day, too,” Marin mused as she watched two octoroks scuttling around each other in the grass playfully, ignoring her wholesale. She looked away from the monsters and saw where the road finally turned westward away from the river just ahead, the next bend wrapping around a large hill to her left. Just a short walk from there, she knew, was Kanalet Castle, where Richard, the technical ruler of the island, formerly lived, though she’d heard that in recent months his retainers had all went mad and he’d fled to the south, leaving the castle itself to the gaggle of madmen. The thought was a bit frightening, but she knew as long as she didn’t cross its gate that she would be safe passing by.


She rounded the hill, following the road, and came to an abrupt stop just around the bend.


“What? This wasn’t here before,” she muttered, coming face to face with a huge boulder carved to look like a skull. “Where did it even come from?” The mysterious boulder blocked the road completely, its stony eye sockets staring straight back at her as she tilted her head to the side and wondered. Marin couldn’t go around it, either. That particular section of the road narrowed and passed between two tall hills, and whoever had placed the boulder had positioned it perfectly between them, completely barricading the passage. There wasn’t even space to squeeze her small frame by on either side. “Hmm.”


Marin pushed on the boulder, but wasn’t surprised when it didn’t budge, then ran her fingers along a large crack in its side. If Link was here, he could have likely destroyed it with a couple well placed bombs, but Marin carried nothing of the sort on her. I suppose I’ll have to go a different way.


She turned and walked back the way she came. If she passed back by Martha’s Bay and took the southern road instead, it would wrap around Pothole Field and then turn northward before eventually connecting with the road she was on now, creating a large loop through the center of Koholint. She could get back to Mabe Village that way, though it was a bit more wild and dangerous. Still, there wasn’t much choice.


She was close to Martha’s Bay, about half an hour later, when she started to feel something was off. Like there were eyes watching her from behind the rocks and the nearby trees. It was disconcerting, and for the first time that morning Marin wasn’t comfortable. Something was going on, she just didn’t know what, but there was a feeling in the air, a foreboding similar to the energy building before a big storm, and she didn’t like it one bit.


“Marin! What are you doing all the way out here?” The voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked around for its source, which turned out to be a figure racing towards her along the road that skirted Martha’s Bay. She stopped and waited, and eventually the distant figure resolved itself into Tracy, the strange potion maker that lived to the north of Mabe.


“Oh, Tracy. Hi,” Marin said, her voice deadpan. She didn’t hate Tracy, but the woman definitely had a tendency to tap dance on her last nerve. “What are you doing out here?”


“Come now, I asked first,” Tracy laughed, stopping in front of Marin to adjust the ribbon atop her head and brushing her long, black hair with her fingers to smooth it out after the short sprint.


“I’m on my way home from the Animal Village,” Marin said, her teeth grinding as she spoke. “What about you? It’s pretty rare to see Crazy Tracy around this part of Koholint. Don’t you usually stay hidden in your little shack?”


“I had to go to the bay to get some ingredients for more of my medicine,” Tracy responded, irritation creeping into her own overly cheerful tone. “Some young man in green keeps buying it all up. Poor thing must be wandering the island looking for trouble as often as he comes to buy medicine.” Marin gasped and Tracy’s irritation turned to a secretive little smile. “He’s a handsome little thing, too. Even lets me apply my medicine on him when he comes by.”


Ugh, this woman! “Is that so?” Marin asked, already well aware that Tracy rubbed the medicine on anyone brave enough to pay her for it. The most agitating thing was that Marin knew it worked. Tarin had been saved from his own blundering, fatally stupid nature by Tracy’s concoctions more than once. “I wouldn’t want you to be too dependent on Link to stay in business, so I’ll make sure Tarin stops in before he ventures off again. What ingredient did you need from Martha’s Bay, anyway?”


“It’s. A. Secret,” Tracy winked, then blew a kiss at Marin. “Well, I’d best be getting back. I have to make sure I get more medicine made before your boy-toy drops in again.” Tracy turned and started down the northern road, whistling and swinging a satchel of something to the tune. Marin nearly let her go, thinking that the mad medicine woman running into the roadblock and losing time back tracking as she did would be funny, but her better nature won over.


“Tracy, wait!” she called before the other woman had gone too far. “The road by Kanalet in that direction has been blocked by a huge boulder. You’ll have to take the southern road and loop back north.”


“Well damn, that’s inconvenient,” Tracy muttered, then turned and walked back towards Marin. “Are you heading that direction right now?”


“Yes, that was my plan.”


“Okay, let’s go together.” Something in Tracy’s tone was off and it set alarms ringing in Marin’s head.


“Wait, is there something wrong with the southern road?”


Tracy bit her lip, thinking for a moment, then sighed. “It’s the moblins. There’s been an entire tribe hanging around the southern area of Kanalet and Pothole Field.”


“So? Link put paid to their king a while ago. They’ve been in disarray since. Basically harmless as long as you keep a distance.”


“Not these,” Tracy shook her head, “this tribe is different. I think they were some kind of outlier when the old moblin king still lived. Worship some sort of weird laughing god, and all their weapons are tipped with feathers instead of blades.”


“Feathers? You’re worried about feathers?” Marin laughed.


“It’s what they do with them, you silly girl!” Tracy looked uncomfortable and fidgeted in front of the red head, her blatant fear killing Marin’s laughter.


“Alright, I’ll bite. What do these strange, feather wielding moblins do?” She was familiar with the garden variety monsters, and steeled herself for a tale of intense violence.


“I’ve only heard secondhand from Richard,” said Tracy, her voice lowering to a trembling whisper, “but he says that they ambush travelers, searching for sacrifices to their bizarre god. After they drag them off, all anyone hears is distant laughter for hours and hours, probably part of some ritual, then the traveler is never seen again.”


“What utter nonsense!” Marin scolded her. “How many people do you think live on Koholint? If anyone went missing, it’d be the talk of the whole island! The fumes from your medicine has cooked your brain, Tracy!”


“Well, that still doesn’t change the fact that there are a lot of moblins along that road!” Tracy flushed a deep crimson, though Marin wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two?


“That also still doesn’t change the fact that, unless you have something in your little satchel to destroy a boulder thrice as big as either of us, the southern road is the only option even if it is infested with feather wielding moblins!” The dark haired woman went silent, the fire going out of her, and she twined a finger into her long locks. “Now I’m heading south. You can come if you’d like, or you can stay and wait for someone passing by to clear the other road. Your choice!”


Marin turned, huffing and lamenting the loss of her good mood, and walked down the beaten path to the south while trying her best not to stomp. Tracy watched her leave, unsure of what to do, then finally bolted after her.


“Marin, wait! Don’t leave me behind!”


______


The pair followed the road south until it gave way to a small field to their right and the southern half of Martha’s Bay to their left. There hadn’t been a single moblin in sight, though they did find themselves avoiding several octoroks, the slimy creatures regarding them with interest as they hustles past.


“Where do we go from here?” Tracy asked as they stood at the edge of the field. “I always take the north road, so I’m a bit unfamiliar with this part of the island.”


“On the other side of this field, there’s a path into the trees. The road picks up again there. If we had some way to cross a large chasm, we’d actually be able to take a shortcut to the beach south of Mabe, just beyond the abandoned old house on the cape. As is, we’re stuck going north on the road unless you know some way to fly.”


“Can’t say that I do. I guess we’re stuck with the road, then.”


“I guess we are,” nodded Marin, inwardly groaning at being stuck with the potion maker. The woman had chattered endlessly along the road, a sharp contrast to her earlier fear of the monsters that might lay in wait. If she was truly so worried, then why wouldn’t she close her mouth for more than ten consecutive seconds? Any ambush by these ludicrous feather moblins would hear them coming on the other side of the damned island, assuming they even existed.


They made their way across the field, Marin in the lead with Tracy just behind her. The morning dew had been burnt away by the sun already, and the grass swayed back and forth, tickling her legs and the sides of her feet in her sandals. If she’d been alone, Marin would have tossed the sandals to the side and ran through the grass, giggling at the sensations, but a sidelong look at Tracy cooled that desire almost immediately. Something about being around her just killed the fun of the idea.


“Ugh, I hate this grass,” Tracy groaned, waving her hands around in front of her in an attempt to keep the blades of grass away from her legs. It reached knee high in places, and apparently she wasn’t as much of a fan of nature’s gently caress as Marin was. “At least it can’t get in my shoes. How are you walking through this mess with sandals? Don’t your feet hurt from wearing those all the time?”


“Nope,” Marin said, looking down at her footwear and wiggling her toes. “They’re more comfortable than those flats you have on, and my feet don’t get sweaty. If the worst I have to worry about is a little grass tickling my toes, that seems like a good enough price to pay to me.”


“If you say so,” Tracy mumbled, and the two continued through the overgrown field. The tree line stood nearby, and beyond it they could see where the beaten dirt road picked back up, cutting between the trunks and heading to the north again.


The trees surrounded the road, lining it on both sides and making it feel much more narrow and claustrophobic than when the pair walked through the open air. It felt stifling, Marin realized, and knew then why she’d always preferred fields, meadows, and the beach to the forests. Somewhere nearby a twig in the underbrush snapped, the cracking sound sharp in the quiet air, and Tracy nearly jumped out of her skin.


“Did you hear that? Is it moblins?” They’d only been on the path for a few minutes, but she already looked as though she could bolt at any second, eyes wide and darting in every direction.


“Tracy. Calm down. It’s not moblins, just some animals moving around in the trees.”


“Are you sure?” Tracy’s lip quivered with the question, panic clear on her face. Marin groaned, then patted her arm in a weak attempt at comfort.


“I’ll go and look,” she said reassuringly. “It came from over there, so just wait here while I check.” Marin patted the woman’s arm one more time, then calmly walked to the tree line where the noise had come from and peered into the woods. When nothing but the quiet forest stared back at her, she turned around and forced a smile to her face. “See? Nothing here but squirrels and birds!”


When she took a step back towards Tracy, the net hidden in the leaves beneath her sprung, lifting her high into the air while Tracy screamed.


______


What do I do, what do I do?!? The words pounded through Tracy’s mind again and again, morphing into a lunatic mantra that filled her thoughts with white hot panic. She heard Marin groan from the air and looked up. A heavy cord held a net made of ropes nearly as thick as her wrist well above her head. Marin was dangling inside, her shock of red hair sticking out one end and a leg, sandal lost to gravity, stuck through a hole in the bottom. It was so high that Tracy would have had to jump just to graze the bottom of Marin’s foot.


“Tracy? Are you still there?” Marin’s voice was high pitched and panicked, mirroring the tone of Tracy’s thoughts. “Do you have a knife or anything? This kind of trap is usually secured somewhere on the ground. If you can find where, you should be able to cut the rope and let me down.”


“I don’t have a knife!” she yelled up at the pale foot dangling above her.


“Well, can you at least see where the rope leads?!” Tracy followed it from the top of the net and downward into the tree line.


“It looks like it goes into the trees.”


“Well then, go see if you can loosen it or something!” Marin yelled down at her.


“But…”


“JUST DO IT!”


“Fine,” Tracy grumbled, taking a step in the direction the rope passed beyond the tree line. When she took a second step, a rustling cane from the same direction and she froze on the spot as a moblin with shiny red skin, tusks jutting from both corners of its mouth, stepped out of the undergrowth and fixed its eyes on her. A smile played across its face, and it reached behind it to pull the spear lashed to its back into its hands. Instead of a point or a blade, the tip was fixed with a huge, stiff brown and white feather. “Ack!”


“Tracy, what’s wrong? I can’t see what’s going on!” Marin called from the net, but her words never reached Tracy. The dark haired woman had turned and fled the moment she saw the feather on the moblin’s spear, he screams echoing through the silent woods.


______


“Tracy? Tracy? Are you there?” Marin called to the trees around her, fresh panic welling up inside when there was no answer. She’d heard the potion maker scream, but everything else around her was quiet and there hadn’t been any unusual sounds since. Marin shifted in the net, trying to find enough of a purchase to at least pull her leg up through the hole it had slipped into, but failed miserably, slumping and panting with the effort as sweat beaded her brow with the effort. “Hello? Tracy?”


She wondered what had happened, but the net kept spinning lazily, making it difficult to focus on anything and making her a little dizzy at the same time. Something out there had spooked Tracy, that much was clear, and her companion had likely run off somewhere. Marin wondered how long she’d be stuck up in the net, holding out a dim hope that Tracy had run to get help and would return with Link in tow. Even just Tarin would be helpful, even as bumbling as he usually was.


Then something soft yet firm brushed against her dangling foot, gliding along her arch and making her squeak and jerk in the net at the sudden sensation, which sent the trapped bundle of Marin spinning in another nauseating direction.


“Tracy, what the hell! I thought you were gone! And be careful, I’m ticklish!” Tracy didn’t answer, instead that same soft sensation returned, this time caressing the undersides of her toes and forcing a sound from her that was half giggle, half squeal. “Stop doing that and get me down! I don’t know what you’re playing around with, but this is serious!” The gentle tickle came once more, this one managing to slide in between two of her toes, and she outright laughed and kicked her leg until she succeeded in pulling her foot away from the assault.


Then a hand clamped around her dangling ankle, and not a human hand by the feel of it unless Tracy had grown quite a bit bigger and lost a finger. Whatever it was, its grip was like iron, and Marin discovered that she couldn’t pull away from it no matter how hard she tried. On top of that, she still couldn’t make out who or what it was through the net, just that some vague shape directly below her was likely what held her foot captive. A new sensation appeared, this one of some sort of snout snuffling and sniffing at her toes, and she knew then that it was a moblin below. One of the monsters must have wandered out of the trees and Tracy abandoned her when she saw it.


“Stop it!” Marin cried, trying to kick at the monster as it sniffed at her foot. Much to her surprise, it actually did, but her reprieve was only for a moment. After it pulled its snout away, the soft, unseen thing that it carried returned, this time purposefully finding the crevice between her big toe and second toe, and sawed up and down. She opened her mouth to protest, but the surprise and ferocity of the tickling took her and the only thing she could do was giggle helplessly, the ticklish feeling all the worse because the moblin kept its hold on her ankle and her foot couldn’t move away.


The monster made its was into each crevice between her toes, one by one, sawing away while Marin laughed louder and louder, thrashing helplessly in the net. Once it reached the final one, it slid whatever it was using out and began to tease the pads of all five of her toes with it, sending her into hysterics.


“Stop, stop! Please!” Marin squealed when the moblin below pulled its tool away, leaving her with a tingling feeling all over her foot that she tried to chase away by scrunching her toes. Her reprieve was only brief, and she burst into fresh giggles as the gentle tickling continued, now traveling up her leg and caressing the tender hollow behind her knee. It wasn’t quite as bad as her foot, but after several seconds she was twisting and squirming again, trying desperately to free her ankle and pull her leg up once more. If nothing else, she finally saw the monster’s torture device. It was close enough that she could make out the large brown and white feather through the bottom of the net, and considering how high up she dangled then it had to be attached to a stick or pole or something. Or a spear shaft, she thought bitterly as it dipped back behind her leg and forced my giggles from her lips.


Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the tickling stopped and her ankle was released. Marin sucked in air, her lungs working overtime to catch up from all the laughter, and her body went limp. She wanted to try to pull her foot away, but her strength was spent from struggling and she needed rest. If nothing else, she supposed it was a small blessing that only one of her legs had gotten stuck outside her prison of rope. Had the monster been able to torment both feet, she might have lost her mind.


“What now?” Marin whispered quietly to herself as the net around her first sagged, as though suddenly her weight was more than it could bear, and then slowly began to lower itself towards the ground. “Maybe it had its fun and now it’ll let me go?”


As soon as she felt her rump make contact with the ground, she pulled her leg through the slackened trap and rubbed her foot vigorously with a hand, attempting to will away the awful tingling that the tickle torment had left behind. Once it abated, she shakily stood, clawing her way through the top of the loosened net and out.


When the ropes finally fell away, Marin found herself standing in a ring of eight moblins, each one brandishing either a sword or spear with a large brown and white feather rather than a traditional blade.


“Uh oh…”


______


Tracy stumbled on a branch that had fallen in the road, nearly falling face first into the dirt before just barely regaining her balance, then kept running without so much as a glance behind her. She felt bad leaving Marin stuck up in the net, but she was no warrior and the sight of the moblin had startled her badly. Plus, they were very much tribal monsters. Where there was one, there was sure to be several more. Finally, wheezing from her sprint, she slowed to an unsteady walk and looked behind.


There was nothing but trees and an empty road.


“Thank goodness!” Tracy said aloud, the muscles in her legs screaming from the unfamiliar exercise. Her whole body ached, a stark reminder that she needed to get out and move around more. She’d keep going north, she decided, and stop at Richard’s Villa by Pothole Field. Marin needed help, but no one could expect her to fight off moblins. Richard would be able to help, or at least help get word to Link, the redhead’s little crush, so he could rush in with gleaming sword. That’s exactly what the situation needed, a bit of wanton violence and a hero rescuing his distraught damsel. Why, by setting it in motion, Tracy mused, she was practically a hero by association. She nodded to herself, satisfied, then turned back toward the north.


A lone moblin brandishing a sword, its blade a massive brown and white feather, stood in the middle of the road.


“Shit!” she yelled, turning again and preparing to break into a fresh sprint, spinning around just in time to see three more moblins crashing out of the tree line with feathery weapons already drawn. “Shit!” Tracy turned again, this time aiming for the line of trees opposite where the three had come through and took off.


Or tried to, but her tired legs tangled beneath her and she went sprawling, one of her cute red slippers flying off in some unknown direction as she ate dirt. Before Tracy could scramble back to her feet, she felt them on her, hands grasping at her dress, her arms, even her long black hair and the large ribbon she kept tied in it.


“No! Stop it! Let me go now!” Tracy wailed as the moblins dragged her to her feet. One of them alone would have been more than enough to subdue her, but all three of the ones from the underbrush seemed to want the job and she found herself jostled in between them as they grumbled at each other for the pleasure. “Someone help!”


“You three, calm down,” the first moblin growled as it walked up, feathery sword in hand, and the others fell silent, one on either side of her holding her arms and the last behind her. Tracy was a more than a little shocked to realize the monsters could speak and stared at the apparent leader with her mouth agape. “We have to check if this one is suitable.”


“Suitable for what?” Tracy whimpered at the monster, but it ignored her and motioned to the one behind her as the ones holding her arms stretched them out to her sides as far as possible without actually hurting her. She could feel breath of the one behind her, hot on her neck, as it leaned in and snuffled deeply into her hair, and she cringed. Then, in a flash of movement, it grabbed the back of her dress and easily ripped the fabric straight down the back, discarding the ruined garment once it had been torn enough to simply pull off her. “What are you doing?!”


“Hold her still,” the lead moblin said, then slowly approached with the giant feather pointed at her. Tracy didn’t know what would happen, and she clenched her eyes shut in fear to wait for whatever came next. Then the very tip of the huge feather dipped into the cup of her navel, its touch as wispy and light as a faerie’s kiss, and Tracy, taken by surprise, giggled as her eyes flew open.


“Wait, not that. That can’t be what you all use those stupid feather weapons for. It’s ludicrous.”


The lead moblin paused, raised an eyebrow, then broke into a horrifying grin before it swept the tip of the sword across her belly. Tracy burst into helpless giggles and her whole body quivered as the moblin continued, tracing and caressing every bit of exposed skin between her panty line and the bottom of her bra. She hopped from one foot to the other, twisted side to side, and shimmied, but the moblin seemed to be able to predict her movements perfectly and followed with the feathery tip every time, leaving her with no reprieve from the maddening tickle.


“Arms up,” it said, and the mobilins holding her forced her hands high above her head. In less than a second, the tip of the feather sword slid into the hollows of her underarms, teasing the sensitive flesh, and Tracy began to laugh so hard that her legs buckled beneath her and the other moblins had to hold her up so their leader could continue tickling her armpits. The moblin behind her leaned it, snuffling deep in her hair, and even through her helpless giggles she cringed away from the creature. Then she felt something on her back pop, and her eyes went wide with horror as her bra, bright red to match the ribbon and dress she liked to wear, fell away, its strap snapped from behind by the grinning monstrosity behind her. The leader wasted no time and the tip of the feather flicked against one of her exposed nipples, honing in on the nub of flesh and teasing it mercilessly, and Tracy surprised and disgusted herself when a moan slipped out of her mouth among the laughter. Something in her reaction seemed to please the leader, and it pulled the huge feather back, sheathing it in an oddly wide scabbard hanging from its belt.


“This one will do nicely. Take her,” it grumbled as Tracy slumped forward, panting with exhaustion.


“D-do nicely for what?” she asked, her voice quavering. The leader was already gone, though, stalking into the trees as soon as it issued its order to the others, and the trio seemed to have no answers for her. They simply tightened their grips and dragged her north, their hands poking and tickling her any time she tried to put up a fight.


______


Marin marched uncomfortably along the road, lopsided as the moblins hadn’t bothered to recover her lost sandal. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and then a length of rope trailed behind, ending in the hands of the moblin that had tickled her with the strange feather spear. Any time she slowed even a little, a harsh tug reminded her of what could happen if she refused to march along and she redoubled her pace despite the pain in her bare foot and the deep set ache in her whole diaphragm from laughing far more than she was accustomed to. Even if she found a way to release her wrists and run, a ring of moblins, each wielding a feathery weapon, marched along with them. There was no way she’d break through them fast enough, so she simply gritted her teeth through the pain and kept walking.


The group took the same northern road she and Tracy had used, though farther than the women had intended. They passed Richard’s Villa without even a sideways glance, passed by the Pothole Field just beyond, and kept moving until they stood at the gates of Kanalet Castle. For a heart beat, Marin thought they were going to enter, but instead the moblins turned as a group and moved eastward, coming to the banks of the same river that eventually fed back into Martha’s Bay and then turned north again, following a scarcely used path along the side of the castle.


Eventually they came to another branch of the river, shallow enough to ford, and across from it the sheer rock face of Tal Tal Heights. Marin stared up at the wall of stone before the group, wondering what was happening, and the leader of the group hammered the haft of its spear on the ground and bellowed a loud cry. A moment later, two more moblins appeared and stared down at them, their beady eyes lingering on Marin long enough that she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle, then they lowered a long ladder that looked to be made of lashed together bones down. The leader came up behind her and leaned forward, the reek of its breath filling her nostrils.


“I’m going to untie your wrists so you can climb,” it rumbled in her ear. “If you try and run, we’ll stake you down on the very ground you’re standing on and I’ll let my fellows play with you until tomorrow’s sun sets. Do you understand?” Marin gulped, then nodded, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. “Good.” She felt the cord binding her wrists loosen and fall away, and she stood for a moment rubbing the twin red bands along both arms where the rope wore against her flesh.


“Climb,” the leader said, pushing her gently from behind with the haft of his spear. Wordlessly, Marin stepped forward and began to climb the ladder slowly, the aches in her body making every rung more of a strain than the last. There was a moment near the top where one hand slipped and she thought she might fall, but one of the moblins waiting at the top saw her starting to go and reached down, catching the collar of her dress and pulling her back towards the ladder. Fueled by fresh fear, Marin scrambled the rest of the way up and collapsed in the grass, panting as the moblins below began to scale the ladder, one by one, until the entire group stood around her again.


“Stand.” The leader pointed its spear at her threateningly, then pointed towards a staircase cut into the living rocks of Tal Tal Heights. There could be no mistaking its meaning, and Marin sighed and rose to her feet. They didn’t even bother retying her wrists, rather simply surrounding her on all sides as she walked towards the steps and climbed. She heard a voice above, garbled but evidently very panicked by the tone, and wondered what fate waited for her once she made it to the top.


Marin never would have imagined the sight that awaited her, though, and when she crested the top of the staircase she was dumbfounded. “Tracy?”


Not far from the stairs was a large stone dais with strange patterns and shapes carved into its surface, and atop the dais itself sat two rectangular stone slabs with shackles chained to heavy metal pins hammered directly into the stone. Atop one of these slabs lay Tracy, naked but for a pair of lacy red panties, struggling weakly against the restraints.


“M-marin?” Tracy jumped when she heard the red head’s voice, lifting herself off the stone slab as much as she could to look in the direction of the stairs. “Oh, it is you! You’ve got to help me!” The chains on the stone slab banged against it loudly as Tracy struggled against them, and a few nearby moblins jeered at her, clearly amused at her plea for help. One of them didn’t laugh, though. It was a full head taller than the others and wore a stoic expression, similar to the spear wielding leader that had feathered Marin’s toes earlier, though this one seemed to prefer a sword to the spear.


“Move. Do you think the other slab is for decoration?” A push from behind snapped Marin back to reality, and she turned to find the leader of her captors directly behind her. It motioned to the empty slab, then made a gesture with its hand that was meant to look like walking legs.


“What are you going to do to us?” Marin felt her whole body trembling in fear as she asked, and hated how meek and submissive her voice sounded.


“Move!” Its hand went threateningly towards its spear, and Marin flinched, then her shoulders slumped and she nodded. She turned and limped towards the empty slab, ignoring the ruckus coming from Tracy, and when she reached it she sat on the edge of it and waited. The spear moblin followed close behind, and when she sat it hauled her back to her feet. “Clothes off. Like her.”


Marin glanced at Tracy, who watched the exchange helplessly from her own slab with tears welling in her eyes, and then she sighed and pulled her dress up and over her head, dropping it next to the slab, then kicked her remaining sandal off. She stole one more glance at Tracy, then turned to the moblin and pointed to her simple white bra. “Can I keep this?”


The creature looked at her a moment, taking stock of her shape as she sat in nothing but her underwear, then it looked at Tracy in all her topless, helpless glory. “Hers are bigger,” it said as it turned back to face Marin. “Keep it on.” Mixed feelings at the words washed over Marin. One one hand, she was glad to be less exposed than poor Tracy, but on the other she was just a bit insulted, deep down, that the moblins seemed to prefer the other woman. Then, on the heels of that, was upset at herself that she was insulted that monsters didn’t care to see her in the same topless state. The feelings were… complicated.


There wasn’t time to ponder on them more, however, as the spear moblin quickly set about pushing her down onto her back and two more appeared, leering and grinning through their tusks, to shackle her spread eagle on the stone slab as well. When they finished, they stepped away and left the spear moblin alone to look down at her until it was joined by the sword wearing moblin that seemed to be of similar stature. Both stared down at her and Marin felt her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, then relief as their eyes slid to Tracy instead.


“Now we wait,” the one with the feathery sword growled, and both turned on their heels and walked out of sight. Whatever it was they were waiting for, Marin hoped it wouldn’t take too long.


______


Time passed, the sun crawling across the sky, and afternoon arrived with a healthy glow. If there was anything to be thankful for, Tracy reasoned, it was the sunlight. Otherwise the already uncomfortable stone would have been unbearably cold against her bare skin. Just imagining it made her shiver and dread the coming evening. She looked sidelong at Marin shackled to the other slab and felt a pang of jealousy that she’d at least gotten to keep her bra. The stone might be warmed by the sun, but up in Tal Tal Heights there was nearly always a breeze and cool air regularly grazed along her exposed breasts, keeping her nipples in a constant state of hard, erect nubs.


Tracy looked away from Marin, studying as much of her surroundings as she could. The moblins, seemingly content to ignore the both of them for the time being, lazed about in the shade of the cliffs overhead while their two leaders discussed something next to a small fire. The smell of some unknown stew wafted along the breeze, bubbling from a small pot hanging over that same fire. Nothing else seemed to be on the cliff aside from the strange dais and the stone slabs, and Tracy wondered what they were originally for.


“Hey,” she whispered to Marin, turning as much as she could to look at her fellow prisoner. Marin looked back at her, her brown eyes cold.


“What?” Marin asked, not even bothering to whisper.


“Shhh! They’ll hear you!” Tracy hissed at her, and the red head sighed.


“Does it really matter? Whatever they plan to do, we’re helpless to stop them. Besides, I’m less than happy about you running off and leaving me stuck in that net.”


“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, but when it came out of the trees I panicked!” Tracy paused, thinking. She really was sorry for leaving Marin behind, but if she thought about it then all that would have changed is that they would have been captured together instead of separately. “Look, I’ll make it up to you somehow,” she said at length, “but I wanted to ask something.”


Marin sighed again, then glanced at Tracy. “Alright,” she whispered back, “what is it?”


“Did the moblins, um, do anything to you before they brought you here?” She saw Marin’s face burn a shade of crimson and knew the answer before the other captive even spoke.


“When I was stuck in that stupid net,” Marin said, her face reddening more with each word, “one of my legs got stuck in the bottom and was just dangling, then the one with the feather on a spear used it to tickle my foot until I thought I would lose my mind. What about you? How did you end up so… naked?”


“They tore my clothes off, then the one with the feather sword tickled me all over. Just when I couldn’t stand anymore, it stopped and they brought me here. Not long after that the others showed up with you.”


“Sounds horrible,” Marin said, the sincerity in her voice plain to hear. “What do you think they’re planning to do to us?”


“Isn’t it obvious?” Tracy groaned, turning back to look up at the sun in the sky. “We’re helpless, exposed, and every single one of them has one of those strange feather weapons. I imagine they’re going to tickle us, probably for a very long time.”


“But why?” Tracy shrugged as best she could in response, the chains holding her to the slab clinking against the stone quietly. Marin pulled at her own shackles and found that they had almost no give. She could barely lift her body an inch or two before the chains went taut. “This is dumb!”


Tracy opened her mouth to agree, but as she did a large shadow blotted out the afternoon sun. She looked up and saw an enormous brown and white bird, mad eyed and screeching, staring down at them both. Then she opened her mouth and screamed.


______


The Grim Creeper looked over the shoulder of the Evil Eagle, the monstrous bird he’d rode down from his tower on, and took in the sight. The moblins, pathetic creatures that they were, hooted and bowed at him and the Eagle, some clapping their weapons together, others chest bumping each other, and some bowing so low at their simple presence that their snouts were planted in the stony dirt of the Heights. Grim hated the creatures wholesale, but being worshipped as some sort of god was a little bit fun, and if his face wasn’t already a shining white skull then it would have been split in a less gruesome grin. He cackled and pulled his flute from a pocket in his robes, bringing it to his bony face and playing a short tune even though he had no lips, and the Eagle landed at the edge of the cliff and leaned down so he could safely climb off its back.


“Our lord, welcome!” The two lead moblins rose and approached Grim, their arms out and smiles broad. “We’ve found two for you this time!”


“Is that so?” Grim Creeper asked, his tone doubtful. He wasn’t quite sure what constituted attractive to the moblins, but their last offering had been, well, unappealing, to say the least. Unless one is into anthropomorphic goats, and the Grim Creeper could confidently say that he was not. “Let’s take a look then. If you did well, Evil Eagle and I will grant you more of its precious feathers.”


“Of course! Right this way, lord!” The spear moblin and the sword moblin motioned towards the stone slabs, then began to march nervously in the direction themselves. Grim Creeper looked up at the Eagle and shrugged, then followed behind, stowing his flute in his robe as he walked. Once they made it to the two shackled women, the moblins stepped to either side so Grim could step forward and inspect them.


“Well well well,” he said, his empty eye sockets studying Tracy and Marin both, beginning at their bare feet and working upwards. Grim found himself more than a little pleased at the sight before him. There were about three attractive women on the whole island, and two of them lay helpless in front of him. The red head in particular was a tasty prize, not just because of her beauty, but Grim and the other Nightmares had their eyes on her ever since she attempted to wake the Wind Fish with her song, and they’d both been helping the green clad interloper in his quest to take the instruments from the Nightmares and awaken the Wind Fish. “I do have to say that I am much happier with these two than the last one you brought me.”


“I’m pleased that you’re pleased, Lord,” said the sword moblin, its body visibly sagging in relief. It had been responsible for the last offering, and it remembered the Grim Creeper’s fury all too well.


“Have you tested them?”


“Yes, Lord,” replied the spear moblin. “They’re both sensitive everywhere we’ve tried, though we’ve left a full body test for until you were present.”


“Full body test? What does that even mean?” Tracy asked, panic welling inside as she’d been forced to listen to her captors speaking amongst themselves.


“The raven haired one seems particularly ticklish around her upper body, though we haven’t tried her feet yet so they could be just as good,” the moblin continued, ignoring Tracy’s outburst. “The red head, on the other hand, has incredibly sensitive feet, just like you like, Lord.”


“Why won’t you answer me?! What do you mean by full body test?!” Tracy pulled against her shackles hopelessly as the moblins and Grim Creeper both studied her. Even Marin, who had been silent and lay with eyes closed as she tried to brace herself for whatever their captors planned to do to her, opened her eyes and glanced at Tracy, then sighed. The spear wielding moblin stepped forward, its weapon ready and its face pure fury, but Grim held out an arm and shooed it back, then stepped forward himself and leaned down until the bleached bone of his face was mere inches from Tracy’s.


“By the Wind Fish, you’re dense,” he giggled, drinking Tracy’s mania like wine. “Let’s just say I’m a man with particular tastes and have enlisted these fine… creatures… to help me fulfill a few fantasies.” He reached forward and Tracy saw that even his hand was nothing more than bone, a ghastly white appendage slipping out from inside his robes as he grabbed one of her exposed breasts and squeezed it, then flicked his index finger over her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. “Besides, they already tickled you both, how are you so stupid that you can’t put together in your head that you’re about to go through more of the same, just worse? Pretty face, empty skull I suppose. And I’m an expert on empty skulls.” Grim wheezed laughter and released Tracy’s breast, then rapped the side of his own head with his knuckles to produce a sickeningly hollow sound.


______


Marin watched the Grim Creeper tease Tracy through watery eyes. She’d put two and two together a while before and figured they were in for a much more severe version of the tickling they’d both already endured, but she’d been worried about voicing it to Tracy as she watched her fellow prisoner edge closer and closer to hysteria. Grim, on the other hand, seemed to delight in the dark haired woman’s panic when she realized what was about to happen to her.


“You don’t have to be so cruel about it,” Marin finally said, weary of watching the Nightmare prance and gloat and pinch at Tracy’s exposed nipples while he snickered at her squeals. He stopped, staring at her coldly over Tracy’s blubbering form, then turned to the moblins. It wasn’t just the two leaders anymore, several of the tribe had come forward and the two women were ringed by monsters, some gripping feather tipped weapons and others flexing their hands in anticipation, all sharing the same hungry glint in their eyes. Grim tilted his head towards her, and before Marin could say another word she felt feathery touches on both of her helpless feet. “Wait,” she managed, the word more reflex than anything, then one of the feathers slid between her toes and the laughter burst forth.


“You know, I was planning to torture the other one first,” said Grim, his skull swimming into view above as Marin squinted back tears. Marin wasn’t sure when, but he’d scuttled around Tracy’s slab to stand over her instead. “How is it? Regretting opening that mouth of yours?”


It’s okay, I can take it. It’s just tickling. Lay back, let it happen, and just laugh. Marin had been the target of more than one tickle attack in her life, and knew that the best thing was to just lean into it rather than fight the sensation. So she lay, letting the laughter pour from her as a pair of moblins explored her helpless soles with their feathers, sawing between toes and tracing the wrinkles of her flexing feet with glee. She’d be damned if this grinning skull-faced freak got the better of her. She heard Tracy’s voice rise in helpless laughter as well, through it was mixed with high pitched screeches and snatches of profanity, and dimly remembered that there were nearly twenty moblins on the cliff, more than enough for both women to be tickled head to toe.


“You know, you can pretend to be as stoic as you like,” Grim giggled, his bony fingers gently tracing along Marin’s ribs even as she reflexively squirmed from the foot tickling, “but you’ll show cracks soon enough. Lean into it, just lay back and laugh, and it’ll be over eventually, right? This isn’t some grab-ass game between lovers or friends, woman. You’re going to scream, even if it takes days.” Grim emphasized every word with a prod at her ribs, making her jump. Then he dug both hands into them, one on each side kneading at her rib cage, and Marin threw her head back and cackled. Tears stung her eyes, forced from her as her face contorted with every touch, until finally Grim pulled his hands away. Once he did, returning to just the feathers was almost pleasant. He reached down once more, this time plucking the flower from her hair and holding it above her face.


“G-give that b-back,” Marin sputtered, the forced smile on her face not enough to hide her sudden anger.


“What, this?” Grim asked, then crushed it in his hand and let the ruined petals fall to the ground. “Whoops.” Marin opened her mouth to swear at the Nightmare, but just then a new moblin sauntered up and its greedy fingers flew into her armpits. Her profanity died on her lips, replaced with yelps and bubbling giggles as the monster scratched at her hollows with its grimy fingers. “Moblin got your tongue?”


Unable to speak, she glared up at him and managed to spit upwards. Most of it simply fell back at her, dribbling down her chin, but a gobbet found its mark and splatted against the stark white skull. The Grim Creeper recoiled, his voice colored with the disgust his face was unable to show, then he motioned to the moblins gathered around and four more stepped forward.


“I hope that made you feel good,” he whispered, leaning in so that on Marin could hear his words, “because now I’m going to make sure you regret it for the rest of your short life.”


______


Tracy begged for mercy before Grim even had a chance to sit down, her words frantically bubbling out between fits of laughter. Grim, of course, ignored her, and once he found a suitable rock to rest his bony rear he even motioned for more moblins to join in, bringing her screams to a fever pitch. The other refused to break, though. He looked on in awe as Marin, tears in her eyes and face frozen in forced mirth, cackled hysterically as five moblins pinched and poked her from head to toe, yet the laughter was all she uttered. There wasn’t so much as a ‘please stop’ on her lips and it irritated him.


“You and you,” he said, waving at a couple of moblins that milled around doing nothing at all, “get in there on the red haired one and use your hands. I want her pleading alongside her friend before the sun sets.” The monsters hopped up, terrified at being addressed directly by their god, and rushed over to Marin. Seconds later, her laughter rose in volume and pitch, but there was still no broken begging.


Why isn’t she breaking? The Grim Creeper watched Marin’s back arch up off the stone slab, her entire body trying to squirm away from the torment only to squirm closer to more hands and feathers ready to torture her further, and with all the attention her laugh eventually even overshadowed Tracy, who lay broken and sobbing in between fits of giggles as the moblins refused to relent. One of the leaders, the spear wielder, walked from where he watched over the women’s torment, waving a hand as he approached.


“My lord, you look upset,” the monster said, worry filling its face. “What can we do to help?”


“Nothing. It’s the red head,” Grim said, gesturing to Marin. “I want to see her broken, hear her plead. I want enough desperate tears to fill a goblet. Why isn’t she breaking?” Grim crossed his arms and leaned backwards, watching the two women suffer. Then he tilted his head and watched the Evil Eagle, bored of the feminine cackles and screams, preening its wing feathers and yawning.


“I don’t know why she’s suddenly so resilient,” said the spear moblin. “When I tested her, it was only one foot and she gave in quickly.”


“Well, you all better try harder or I won’t give you any more of Evil Eagle’s feathers!” Grim sulked, pulling his flute from inside his robes and fingering it nervously. He’d never thought Marin would hold out so long. The moblins had been tickling the two women for well over an hour by then, he could tell by the sun crawling across the sky. He wanted to head back to his tower before nightfall, but Marin stubbornly just laughed. She wasn’t even trying to talk through the torture anymore, instead just taking it all, back arched and body wiggling where it could as she bellowed laughter. Grim hopped up and walked to stand between the two slabs.


Tracy looked like a madwoman, tears rolling freely down her cheeks, hair damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, mouth frozen open in laughter as she bucked hard enough against her bonds to leave visible bruises around her wrists and ankles. One of the moblins dragged a feather across her exposed nipples, somehow keeping in rhythm with her struggling so she could never quite pull her quivering tits away, and she managed a long string of incoherent babble that sounded like a mash up of profanity and pleading, syllables of each melting hopelessly together.


“You’re not as pretty as the other one,” Grim Creeper said to her, letting one of his bony hands cup a breast and then trace a ticklish trail down her side and to her hip. “And far too loud.” With a jerk, he snatched the fabric of Tracy’s underwear and tore it from her body.


“Stop! What are you doing?!” Tracy squealed, then a feathery spear poked between her legs, gently teasing the newly exposed flesh, and she howled.


“Hmm, I think you might like this a little more than you let on,” Grim chuckled as he examined the ruined panties and noticed precisely how wet they were. “Here, you can have them back.” He balled Tracy’s underwear up and popped it into her mouth while she was mid-scream, then tickled her ribs with his bony hands when she tried to spit them out.


“Mmmph! Raghflump mrrgh!”


“I’m not sure what you’re saying, but at least you’re a bit quieter.” He motioned and two more moblins moved to her from the crowd, grinning at her with outstretched hands. Grim turned then to Marin. “And now for you.”


The red head bucked and squealed nearly as hard as Tracy had been, a combination of moblins scratching between her toes and squeezing her hips putting her in a frenzy, yet she still only threw her head back and laughed. Grim, frustrated, thrust his hands into the hidden pockets in his robes and watched, gently fingering the old wooden flute he always carried with one hand while the other clawed at pocket lint. What do I do now?


“Lord,” someone said behind him, and Grim glanced to see the two moblin leaders staring at him over Tracy’s writhing body. “Might we make a suggestion?”


“Shoot.”


“Why not take the flame haired one back to the tower with you? She seems to have great stamina and could probably keep you entertained for days. Besides, the longer we stay here and the louder she gets, the more likely it is that the interloper will discover us.” Grim considered the words a moment, then turned to the moblins tormenting Marin.


“Stop, all of you. Back away.” They did, bowing as they each took several steps backwards to give Marin’s slab a wide space around it. She panted, sucking in air, and giggled absentmindedly as though someone was still just slightly tickling her. “Tell me, why did you try to awaken the Wind Fish? You do know what will happen to Koholint once it wakes, yes?”


“Everyone… everyone on the… island knows what… will happen,” Marin said, her breath calmer but still coming in gasps. “All dreams, even nightmares, must eventually come to an end.”


“Yours won’t be ending any time soon,” Grim growled, a single finger tracing down her side and pulling one final squeal from Marin. “Unchain her and return her clothes. You may keep the loud one to do with as you wish.” He stepped away and watched as the moblins unchained Marin and she stood on unsteady feet as they handed her clothing back to her, though since there was still a missing sandal she refused the lone shoe and remained barefoot. Grim pulled the flute from his pocket and put it to his lipless mouth, then played a dark, mellow tune. The Evil Eagle looked up from where it waited and screeched loud enough that the very rocks around them seemed likely to split. “Take her, but gently. I don’t want my new toy damaged.”


Grim Creeper scrambled onto the Eagle’s back when the monster lowered itself enough for him to do so, then it rose into the air and dove at Marin, who simply stood, knowing that she couldn’t escape from it with the moblins all around, and the Eagle gathered her up in its talons, gripping her tightly but not painfully. Her world spun as the Eagle rose higher, Tracy and the moblins shrinking with every flap of the monstrous bird’s wings until the rose to the point where Marin could see most of Tal Tal Heights below them.


“To the Eagle’s Tower!” Grim yelled over the roar of the wind in her ears and she winced when the Eagle screamed at the sky in response, then took off.


______


“Mmmph, mmmprrrh! Raaaah!” Tracy screamed around the underwear balled up in her mouth, coated with her own scent and taste so thickly that she felt nauseous, as she watched the circle of moblins closing in on her helpless body. Deprived of one victim, they all seemed keen on tormenting her alone, and advanced slowly with hands outstretched and feathers ready. “MRRREEEE!” Help! Someone please help! I’ll go crazy if they keep tickling me!


A moblin face floated into view, its hot breath rank in her nostrils, and Tracy felt fresh tears well in her eyes. It reached for her underarm, and she braced herself for the tickling to continue, wondering how many of them would descend on her, when the one filling her view was struck by a polished wooden boomerang and exploded, spraying blood and bone fragments over her naked body before the ragged mess of what remained of it slumped and fell out of sight.


What. The. FUCK?!?


The boomerang flew past her vision again and she watched blood arc overhead, and the gurgling scream of the moblin it struck made her glad that she couldn’t actually see the creature. The boomerang flew again and again, until the ground around the slab she was chained to was painted red with gore.


“It’s the interloper! It’s the interloper! Take the prize and go!” The speaker, one of the moblin leaders, roared at the others as it took up a position between the attacker and Tracy. Terrified moblins furiously fumbled with the shackles holding her down, and the ring of a sword being drawn, a real one, filled her ears.


Then she was free and Link was upon them, spinning and slicing through the crowd of monsters as though they were made of paper while Tracy spat out her own underwear and scrambled away from the vivid dance of death. She found herself crawling across the stony ground, slipping on the blood and shivering in her nakedness, until she slipped behind a rock and sat, knees pulled to her chest and covering her ears, until the “Hiyaa!” ended and the last gurgling screams of the moblins faded into the coming night.


When she finally dared to peek over the stone, Link was gone. Dead moblins littered the ground, torn bodies and broken feathers everywhere. Even after her day of torment, she felt a bit bad for them. Still, night was coming and she was cold, naked, and soaked in blood, so Tracy picked herself up, tore a couple strips of cloth from the tunic of a nearby corpse to wrap around herself in a makeshift bra and panties, then set off towards her hut, wincing whenever a pebble dug into her bare feet.


______


Tal Tal Heights passed below Marin’s dangling feet in a blur, almost sickeningly fast. The roar of the air in her ears was nearly deafening until the Eagle reached a height where both popped painfully and then she found that she was deafened, all noise reduced to a quiet thrum around her. Whatever Grim Creeper had in store for her at Eagle’s Tower, she was sure of two things. First, that it would be much worse than her tickling at the hands of the moblins, and second was that she would, eventually, break and blubber just like the skeletal bastard wanted. She’d been nearly there when his impatience stopped the moblins, though she’d only admit that very quietly to herself. And once they reached the tower, there was no telling how long it might take someone to rescue her, if they were even able.


She had to do something. If they reached the tower, she was doomed. At a loss, Marin cast her gaze around, searching for anything that might help, and her eyes came to rest on a loose pinion flapping on the Evil Eagle’s leg. She looked down once more and saw they were above the Cucco Shack near the center of the Heights, and seeing no other option she gulped and yanked the loose feather straight out of the monster bird’s leg.


The creature screeched again, this time its cry filled with pain as well as rage, and Marin saw blood beading around the feathers where she’d pulled the one free before the talons gripping her opened reflexively and she dropped.


Dimly, above her, she heard Grim’s shriek of frustration, mirroring the cry of the Eagle, then the roar of the wind in her ears as she fell blotted out all noise as she plummeted downward, wondering what would happen as the ground rose quickly to meet her. Marin closed her eyes and accepted what was to come…


And then felt something snag the back of her dress, jerking her slightly upward and breaking her descent. It carried her sideways, clucking, but no matter how she turned in the air she couldn’t tell what had caught her, only that it seemed to flash blue in the twilight. Then she dropped again, though this time only a couple feet, and found herself standing on an intact middle section of a moldering old bridge to the west of the Cucco Shack. The planks where she stood were still solid, but were also in the middle and the ones to both the east and west were gone, and when she peered downward the ravine below was far too deep to drop into. She might have somehow escaped Grim Creeper and the Evil Eagle, but she was still trapped. Whatever had caught her was gone as well, the distant sound of flapping wings and clucking in the dusk the only sign that it had even existed.


“Well this is great,” she huffed, sitting on the planks and stretching her legs in front of her, then leaning her back against the remains of an old crate that happened to be there. She spun the feather from the Eagle’s leg around absentmindedly as she took in her predicament. “I suppose I’ve got nothing but to wait for someone to come along.” Perhaps I should sleep until morning, she thought, twirling the feather and looking at her toes, then she smiled and stuck the plume in between a big toe and the second toe of her left foot and dragged it slowly back towards herself, giggling.


If the master of the Cucco Shack had been awake, he would have heard faint giggling on the wind well into the night.


______


Morning on Tal Tal Heights was clear and cool, and Marin shivered and stretched, hoping the sun would warm her. Some part of her had hoped to awaken in her own bed, the events of the day before only a dream, but reality persisted and she’d awakened to the early glow in the sky, the hard planks of the bridge, and a mostly desiccated feather that hadn’t quite held up to her toe feathering in the dark. She dropped it off the side of the bridge, watching as it pinwheeled through the air before the trees below swallowed it, then she stood. If she was lucky, the breeder that lived in the Cucco Shack would be out and about early and might know of a way to help her.


A sudden cry from the east, the same direction as the Shack, caught her attention and she looked up in time to see a hook on a chain shoot past her, thudding deep into a wooden crate on the remaining western portion of the bridge beyond the other gap that trapped her, then the body of Link, one hand grasping a strange device attached to the chain and the other outstretched, flew at her. His outstretched arm caught Marin gently around the middle, and she felt her feet leave the planks as his strange device, something he would later tell her was a hookshot, pulled them across the western gap and to the safety of the other side of the bridge.


“Link! You saved me! Some monsters left me stranded up there!” She could hear the relief in her own voice, though her hero remained silent and only nodded. Then there was a sound of something grumbling and wheezing from just below the cliff where they stood, and when Marin looked she saw Tarin bumbling towards them at full speed. “Tarin! I guess it’s time to go back to Mabe Village!”


______


A few days after the debacle with the moblins, Tracy sat in her hut in front of a bubbling cauldron. She’d done little after arriving home but bathe and replace her clothes, then sleep. It seemed almost like she couldn’t get enough rest, and even days later her muscles ached from all the laughter that had been forced from her on Tal Tal Heights. To make matters worse, each of her wrists and ankles had a purple ring around them, a souvenir of the heavy shackles that held her on the stone slab, and on the second day she’d taken some ribbons and tied them around each limb to cover the bruises. It wasn’t until the third day had passed that she even started making her next batch of potion, and the decision was more one of necessity since the ingredients would spoil if she waited too much longer.


A knock came at the door and she groaned, giving the cauldron a stir and wobbling to her feet. “Just a second!” she yelled when the knock came again. Tracy glanced in a nearby mirror and took a moment to straighten her dress, then check the bows she had wrapped around her bruises to make sure each was hidden, then walked to the door and opened it. “Welcome to Crazy Tracy’s Health Spa! Oh, it’s Link!”


The green clad young man stood outside, looking more than a little beat up, and Tracy wondered what sort of shenanigans he’d gotten into since the last time she’d seen him slaughtering the moblins on Tal Tal Heights. Truth be told, the violence she’d witnessed had shaken her as much as the monsters’ relentless tickle torture, and she wasn’t exactly comfortable having him in her shop.


“Are you… here for medicine?” Tracy asked, and the young man nodded. That’s what I was afraid of, she thought to herself. “Okay, I just finished a new batch. That’s going to be 42 rupees.”


Link stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Tracy jumped involuntarily when the latch clicked shut, then silently scolded herself for being so skittish. When he turned back to her, his wallet was in his hand, though he hadn’t loosened the strings to pull out the rupees. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at her.


“Wondering why it’s more expensive than last time?” she asked nervously, not wanting to admit that she decided to inflate the price a bit in the hope he’d go away. “It’s just business, I’m afraid. Scarcity of ingredients, inflation, competition with that awful old witch that lives at the edge of the forest… what are you doing?” Tracy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as Link stowed his wallet away and then dipped his fingers into a pouch hanging from his belt. When he drew out the long brown and white feather, she took a step back.


“W-w-wait! No need for harsh negotiation tactics! Let’s call it 28 rupees?” He took a step forward, waving the plume in her direction, and Tracy stumbled backwards into a small table and fell to the floor. Link wasted no time in seating himself on her legs while she lay stunned, and before she knew what was happening her slippers were gone.


“Please! What about 8?! I can’t go lower than that!”


And if, an hour later, someone stood outside the door to Crazy Tracy’s Health Spa and listened, they might have heard a flood of giggling and the word ‘free’ over and over again.