Title: To Market, To Market
Author: vanillavinegar
Rating: K+
Summary: She didn't know who the little boy was, but clearly his parents weren't taking care of him. [OoT genfic]
Warnings: Implied spoilers for Ocarina of Time
Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.
Author's Notes: The livejournal community helpthesouth held an auction where people could donate a certain amount of money to a charity supporting the southern US after the devastating storms there in April and receive something fandom-related in return. radoka won a fic from me and requested a random villager's point of view on Link.

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That boy was in the market today. Lisbet hadn't seen him in a while; she wondered if the boy's parents had kept him at home for some reason or other. But he was back today, and whatever stunt he'd pulled to make his parents forbid him from coming into town had left its mark. His face was drawn and pale; dark rings lurked under his eyes.

Lisbet tsked to herself. However his parents punished him for his little boy tricks, they should still make sure he was sleeping well.

Lisbet wasn't sure what had made her notice the boy the first time. He was young – younger than her littlest, but older than her firstborn's daughter (her first and so far only grandbaby) – but not so young as to cause a stir. Talon's little girl had been younger than that when she first started coming to the market by herself – and with the guards around, why, Castle Town in the sunlight was safe as houses. Certainly safer than Hyrule Field – monsters roamed the field at night, everyone knew that, and rumor said some came out during the day too – but the boy seemed to have no fear of anything like that.

Well, he wouldn't, now would he? Roaming around with that sword – what nonsense. Lisbet wouldn't have allowed it of her children. Especially since he seemed to have got a shield like one of those the knights used – what need had a boy of that? Lisbet needed to speak to Brent from the Bazaar – imagine, giving such a thing to a child! Such a young boy certainly couldn't have saved up all the rupees for that shield, and Brent was such a soft touch with children. She really should have that word with him.

Anyway, the first time she'd seen the boy, it was clear as cool water that it was his first time in town. He'd gaped and stared, as green as any farm boy – though what farm he hailed from, in those clothes, Lisbet was sure she didn't know. She kept meaning to find out who his parents were, but somehow she never got around to it. The boy had been fresh-faced and cheerful then, actually clapping as if he were at a fair when the mask salesman had pulled out some of his wares.

She had noticed him in the market a few more times since – still with that sword on his back as though he were some sort of miniature warrior – well, there was no real harm to it. He was sweet as spun sugar and polite to everyone, at any rate, a true credit to his upbringing, no matter how strangely he dressed. He'd started wearing some sort of golden bracelet around his wrist, too – but talk was that he had visited the princess. She might've given it to him. He would be about her age – though Lisbet was still surprised the guards had let him pass, much less the king. Perhaps he wasn't a farmer's son after all.

And then he'd vanished for a while. Lisbet hadn't truly missed him until she saw him again, perhaps a fortnight later – and that had been when she'd noticed the changes in him. He looked – strained, poor thing, like some secret trouble weighed on his mind. He'd jumped when one of the strays rubbed against his leg, one hand going over his shoulder to grab at that sword of his until he'd realized it was just a dog. And he was so skinny – come to think of it, she'd never seen him eat a bite, no matter how many times he'd been in the market.

Well, that just wouldn't do. No matter who his parents were, they clearly were not taking care of him as they ought. Lisbet had raised three sons and two daughters after her husband had passed on, and she wouldn't stand to see some boy starve right in front of her eyes.

"Young man," she said, sweeping towards him with her shopping basket on one arm.

He started, a wary, wild look passing over his face as he turned to her. His eyes widened as they fell on her, though at least he didn't look like he feared an attack from her. "Yes'm, Mrs. Lisbet?" he replied, hands going behind his back the way little boys did when they thought they were in trouble.

Now, wasn't that something? She could've sworn she'd never spoken to the boy before. Perhaps her memory was going, the way her sister Nelle said. She softened her features, trying to comfort the boy a little. He was still terribly tense. "Young man, when was the last time you ate something?"

He blinked. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked confused. "Ate, ma'am? I don't – um…" he trailed off, counting on his fingers. He scrunched his face, eyes rolling up to peer at his hat, which – glowed? Lisbet rubbed at her eyes. Now she was seeing things. "I don't know, ma'am," he finally said with a shrug.

Lisbet raised her eyebrows. "You don't know?" she repeated incredulously.

"No, ma'am."

She shook her head. What were children coming to? At least he had manners, no matter how absentminded he was. "Well, then, come along," she said brusquely, holding up the end of her dress so she didn't drag it in the dirt that always collected in the marketplace.

"Come – along where?" the boy blurted. "Mrs. Lisbet," he added after a moment.

She glanced back at him. "Along to my house. Or don't you want any lunch?"

The boy stopped, mouth falling open to gape at her like a land bound Zora. "I," he started, then gulped. The sun, bright today, glinted in his eyes, making them shine. "I – yes'm, Mrs. Lisbet. Thank you," he whispered, dropping his head down to pick at the frayed end of his little green tunic.

Lisbet felt her heart go out to the boy. Well, no one ever said she couldn't be a soft touch for children too. "Not at all, young man. Come on, then. Do you like roasted cucco?"

"Do I!" the boy exclaimed as he followed along behind her, the smile lightening those shadows bruising his eyes.

It was the first time she had him for lunch, but not the last. She made a point of inviting the boy – he introduced himself as Link – whenever she saw him drifting around the market, and she got to know him. Well, as much as she could – he was surprisingly close-mouthed about some things, though still respectful as anything. She had an idea that he was really sneaking away when he wasn't supposed to be, and that was why he kept so quiet about himself. But he was interested in everything, and it wasn't long before she began to think of him as another of her children. Perhaps she wouldn't bother with that word with Brent; it had been startlingly easy, after all, for the lad to worm his way into her heart.

When the world changed, Lisbet didn't notice. No one did, except for the young princess who had turned back time itself, and an even younger boy who had saved the world so that she could. The only thing Lisbet noticed was the boy, a boy she vaguely remembered seeing a few times around the market.

"Mrs. Lisbet?" he asked, approaching her one day. For a moment she thought him too old to be a child – but he couldn't have been more than eleven, surely. Not so old as her youngest boy, eighteen last spring.

"Yes, young man?" she replied, wondering how he knew her name. She could've sworn she'd never spoken to the boy before.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, looking for… Lisbet didn't know what. She didn't know the boy, after all. His shoulders drew up after a moment, and he looked down at his boots. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought that – never mind." And he ran off without a word more.

Lisbet stared after the small retreating figure, then shrugged it away. "Children these days," she murmured to herself, and started at how familiar the words sounded. Maybe her sister Nelle was right about her memory going.

THE END