Sigh. I hate disclaimers. Almost as much as I hate summaries and titles. Oh well...

This story, and all the events that take place within it are fruit of my imagination and therefore belong to me. However anything pertaining to The Legend of Zelda (Here I am reffering primarily to Link and Zelda) belong to Shigeru Miyamoto and his team of incredibly imaginative workers at the Nintendo secret lab in Japan. It would be ill advised for anybody to copy, pirate, illegally distribute or otherwise profit from his or my works in any way shape or form, as Nintendo is a very large, rich and infulential company and will so beat you in any court of law should you be caught... and I am just plain nasty.

Happenstance

Drizzling a misty grey, the sky scowled down at the young man huddled against him self outside a barely occupied store. His hands were quick from many years of working the thief's trade, though they were stuffed into his pockets in order to poorly shield them against the cold. He kept his head straight, and where his messy blonde hair did not fall in his face, his sharp blue eyes were taking note of everything around him. As they scanned they came to rest on a woman dining in a cafe who was grimacing in his direction, obviously perturbed by his loitering.

He snorted at her contempt. It was very easy to condemn him while she sat cozy and warm, surrounded by nothing but the benefits of what she had been born into. He narrowed his eyes, unable not to wonder just a little what her life may have looked like in comparison to his.

His father had left his mother long before he had been born. Together, the two had scraped a meagre living together until his twelfth birthday, when he returned to an empty home. He phoned the police and spent the next two full days searching for her, praying every minute that he would find her, and stopping only on the night of the second day, when he collapsed in on the floor of his empty home, exhausted.

Morning of the third day, his prayers were answered.

A thick man with a greying moustache knocked on his door, inviting the dreary youth to accompany him downtown with a flash of his badge. He went with a feeling of dread gathering in his stomach, and found his mother on a cold metal table, a white sheet covering her until her bone white shoulders poked up from beneath and made a resting place for her darkened cheeks.

He ran from that place, despite the shouts of the thick man, and despite their repeated attempts at bringing him in. He learned to evade the authorities as well as he learned to navigate the city streets.

And he grew up on his own; homeless only when he couldn't afford rent, working for whoever hired him, and stealing whatever he couldn't afford. Considering his luck, he hadn't done half bad.

He didn't think that it would matter much to the snob in the café.

He pulled his mind from those self-piteous thoughts, and ignored the bitter taste of envy that rose into his mouth. With a final roll of his eyes, he unstuck himself from the corner, deciding to rid the grimacing lady of his presence rather than put up with her furtive pinch-lipped glares from across the street. His stomach was growling; he tugged his hood up over his head and decided it was close enough to noon for lunchtime.

The rain was increasing, from a drizzle to a steady pour. Just enough to completely slay whatever good mood had been left in him. He hurried his pace, tipping his head down to avoid the spray of rain getting in his face.

And ran smack into something that felt just like another human being.

The girl, as he now realized, let out a surprised cry as she toppled to the ground in a display of anything but grace. His bad mood evaporated and was replaced with shock; he didn't so much as offer her a hand up since he was too busy staring wide-eyed at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, as it lay sprawled on the ground with bright blue eyes as wide as his own. She was a year or so younger than he, with dark blonde hair that was glistening wet and clinging to her face. Her skin looked like cream except where the pink hues of embarrassment were lighting up on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked.

He snapped back to his senses, blinking and fumbling over his own words as he helped her up.

"Oh. Crap." He winced at his choice of words. "I, ah, jeez. I'm Sorry." He grabbed her arm and hoisted her off the ground, steadying her with a hand on her side. Her eyes flicked to where his hand was, and then to his face.

"No don't be, please. It doesn't matter, I was wet already." Her lips curved slightly.

He cocked an eyebrow and let go of her, a little late. "Yeah. Why is that? Are you lost or somethin'?"

She looked a little undecided. Did this count as talking to a stranger? She was nineteen, but some lessons were meant to be followed for a lifetime. She looked at his face, quite a handsome one what with those intensely blue eyes and scruffy blonde strands.

Caution smaution, she reasoned to herself, and decided to go with the gut feeling she had that he wouldn't hurt her.

"No, I was on a walk, and I left my umbrella at home."

He liked the way those dark pink lips moved when she spoke. And the shape of her chest and the way that the wet fabric of the long-sleeve shirt she wore clung to it. But he didn't like all the reactions that only three of her sentences and a quick smile were garnering from him. She was now staring rather intently at him, and he wished that he hadn't spent so much time admiring the tug of fabric on her. Now feeling completely stupid, and worried to open his mouth in case more stupid-ness poured out of it, he coughed once and excused himself rather awkwardly.

"That's good. Sorry I bumped into-er… knocked you over." He angled himself quickly and manoeuvred around her.

"Wait a sec!" she called. He turned, but averted her gaze. She struggled to make her words come smoothly. "What's your name?"

"Link."

"Do you wanna go for coffee, Link?"

There was a long pause.

The question seared him. Did she not realize that he was trash? She wasn't exactly elite society herself, but he lived alone, in a falling apart little thing that you couldn't even call a home. He had a criminal record as long as his arm, he doubted she had ever stolen a pen from a store. What on earth was she doing inviting him for coffee? It went against all the unspoken laws of social class.

"I'm sorry. Again," she mumbled when he didn't answer, "I'll just, yeah. Sorry. I'll go now."

She turned and began walking the same way she had come, and he noticed that she also had a nice backside.

He furrowed his brow. He didn't understand this, didn't she suspect him? Why didn't she seem even a little bit worked up, like the other lady at the café? She made no sense. Or she was just senseless. The second option seemed suitable.

But she interested him, this senseless girl.

I've got money for coffee, he thought. There seemed to be a mini-dialogue going on between his two conflicting options.

No! It doesn't matter, because I'm not going for coffee, remember?

Oh heck. Yes I am. If he just acted on it, he wouldn't have time to consider any consequences.

"Do you mean right now?" he asked quickly, before she could get too far away.

She bit her lip and turned around. "Sure, why not?"

"Well," he gestured at her sopping clothes.

She shrugged, oblivious to his slowly wandering eyes. "Does it matter to you?"

He mirrored her shrug.

"There's a place I know that's literally seconds away." She offered,

"Let's get going then." He threw her a smile that was meant to be charming, but he worried might have come off as uneasy, which was more what he was feeling. But then again, a girl as beautiful as this one probably made most men uneasy.

She cleared her throat, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm Zelda, just so you know."

Again he kicked himself mentally for his lack of charm. He blushed slightly; "Nice to meet you, Zelda."

"Nice to meet you too, Link."

A faint smile appeared on his face as they trod towards the café in the steadily increasing rain. Neither of them found it odd that they were already comfortable in each others silences.

And a funny thing happened, simultaneously each of them were struck with the feeling of familiarity. Like this, the two of them together, was exactly how things were intended to be. Zelda suppressed the urge to jump into his arms with a cry of joy, and Link did not pick her up and spin her around as he wished too, but neither could suppress the mixed feelings of excitement, relief, joy and surprise that brought smiles to their faces.

It would take an eternity to get sick of that feeling.

Sooo... What did you guys think?

It was wierd writing Link in as "trash" to quote myself, (How arrogant of me!) But I had fun with it.

Don't forget, reading is to reviewing like bread is to butter!