Author`s Note: Now complete! Let me know what you thought. Enjoy
Link: The Struggle for a Hero
Pt.1
He sits at the ancient piano and plays the simple melody I`ve heard many nights before. It rings with the solemn beat of the forest and stirs something deep within.
"Father," I say, "Tell me again where you learned this tune.
He stops playing and looks up and out through the oval of wood to the blowing leaves and quiet night of a star-filled sky. For a moment, in the flickering light of a candle, some shadow of pain crosses his face and I want to say I`m sorry, and didn`t mean to ask that question again. But his fingers find the keys and that halting and haunting melody of the forest continues to float out into the room.
After time and a pause, he says "Son, do you know what that means?" And with a sigh he points with gnarled fingers over at the carved Deku Nut. Shaped in the form of a five-star crown, it sits atop the fireplace and has been there ever since I can remember. He has never let me play with it and handles it gently, dusting it with care. I have no answer for my father as he has never explained its history. "It was a gift" I say in a quiet whisper, now afraid at the tone of my father`s voice. "Yes, carved by someone special long ago, as a reminder to the responsibilities that fall to all of us."
And he continues, "Son, do you remember your cousin`s tribe, the Kokiri of the Green Vale?" Yes I tell him, not sure why he would ask me. "If ever I should fail to return one day, I want you to go and see her family. Tell them," and he pauses as if searching for the right words. "Tell them I could not find my way home from the Dale. They will take care of you." He said this, not looking at me, still gazing out at the night and I fear that he`s already gone, somehow lost even to his son who stands before him. But he turns and smiles suddenly, and picking me up on his knee proceeds to play the Melody of Zelda, an ancient tune named after the first Queen of our realm.
"Son, do you remember your stories? Of the first ruler to unite the races?" Of course I know her. The nursery rhymes of our nation`s birth made up the education of my younger years. I could recite in chant the whole 12 verses of the epic that is Zelda`s Journey. I glance over across the room, next to the hearth where our family altar to the saints stands. The statue of Zelda lies in the center of it, next to the statue of my late mother, accompanied by the offering of milk and bread from the local ranches. "She was a woman of great wisdom, right? I know Zelda was named after the old Goddess of beauty and love." I feel content with that knowledge, that my childish chants have taught me everything, and that the world is as big as those 12 verses.
"Here is a story, son, you may not know. In my years serving the Kingdom I was once guard to her descendant, Zephyr of the Golden Rose, privy to her secrets. One day she received a vision, of a golden triangle rent asunder by the great tusks of a wild boar. Her sudden screams brought me to her bedside; I was the first to discover the tattoo. Three triangles, interlocked and full of golden radiance, shining upon her hand. Myself and the other three guards present were the first to swear allegiance to this vision and miracle, swearing to serve and protect, in secrecy, the lineage of Zelda forever. The moment I kissed her hand it so appeared on mine."
And I swear this to be true, though I may doubt it in later years. My father holds up his hand for me to see and the sacred Triforce appears on his skin. It is etched lightly between scarred knuckles and the wrist of his right hand. Why I had I never seen this? "This was to be our secret sign, shared with passing generations; the call for hope among a sundered nation. If it ever appears as it does now I am needed. Do you understand?" I did not understand, there being no legend or tale about this, but as he looked down at me so serious and solemn I feel suddenly the part of something much larger than the two of us.
In the flickering candle light he stands and strides across creaky boards to a wide chest. I continue to tap the keys of the piano in imitation of my father, yet the tune always come quick and childish and I can never duplicate his serious playing. I hear a slam and turn, expecting the books of scripture, it being that time of night to study and read. Instead he has in his arms a large pack and a bundled, long case. "Come on over here." The oiled cloth was spread out over the rough timber of the table and the silver case lies open. "There are rumors coming from the far kingdoms, of a rising threat attacking the outskirt settlements." Out comes the silver sword I had seen only once before, on a dark night when he had emerged tired and bloody, when I was barely learning to crawl. It's a memory of fear at the state of my father and a vague, silver blur of color that was the sword being shut away in the chest, for good I then thought.
He gazes into the silver metal, at the flash of pale fire that was the reflecting candle and I see a streak of passion pass across his face. Like he had once found something so joyful about the sword. But that strange solemn expression so present on this night comes slamming down again over that small smile and my father once again moves with ponderous grace. He puts the sword in an old sheath, stretches through the sling and settles it across his shoulder. He speaks again. "A promise calls me back and I`m going to help. If you ever learn anything from me it's to keep your words, Son" The heavy pack goes over one shoulder and he turns and squats down to my level. I cannot understand all that is happening and confused thoughts whirl around my head. "When will you be back?" The Triforce tattoo still glows faintly as he shrugs a glove on over the symbol. "Remember your cousin, Son. If I don`t come on the second rising of the sun from the morrow, go to her. This cabin is not the safe place it once was." I jump quickly into a deep hug, bewildered still at the sudden conclusion of a once-cozy evening.
He stops before the open doorway to put his hand on my head. "Sleep with the fire lit tonight, son. " I reach up and grasp his hand tight, willing him back to the light of candle and the music of the piano. But it is the last I hear from him. He turns into the gloom of night, descending down the ladder to the soft grass and whispering woods. I find myself at the railing, wanting to go with him, wanting to stop him, yell the bad words I had heard from the kids in the woods. Anything but let my father mount his horse and ride into the woods, out of the moonlight and out of my life.
Then he is gone. And there is silence then, the silence of loss and the unknown. I feel the pain of coming tears and retreat to the glowing candle and start a fire in the fireplace. Its long before the tears dry and the fire has died down to glaring embers. The cold of the night slips in and I go to the tinder box, searching for logs. There, inside the box, are two carved items sitting wrapped in a large green cloth. The wooden shield is a bit large for me and the carved sword still heavy for my arms. But they are from my father and I promise I will grow strong. I add logs, the fire springs to life again and I snuggle underneath the green cloth, drawing the wooden sword up to my chest. In the moments before blessed sleep I see the handle of the sword and a carved name, my name, written upon it. Link.