Here is the one-shot I promised to readers of my OoT novelization. Obviously, the Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo. I am just a fan.

Masks Make Perfect Presents - by Pseudo Twili

The children of the little forest village continued to live quite normally, but everyone knew there was a decided gap in their lives due to the absence of a certain little boy who had only just recently received his very own fairy. Mido, even in the privacy of his own home, had little difficulty in realizing that fact, but he brushed it off immediately. Of course he would feel a little sense of loss if the one person who proved to be so amusing to tease and taunt was gone!

Naturally, Saria was the one who missed him the most and her life felt decidedly empty after his departure. After all, for ten years she had looked after and cared for the boy, and loved him like a mother, a sister, and a best friend all wrapped into one. After he left, she was still her cheerful self much of the time, but sometimes a very sorrowful look would steal over her young, pretty face; when she felt like that, she often wove her silent way through the woods to the spot where she had said goodbye to the boy with the sword, and thought very much about him.

The leaves were turning colors when Kokiri brought in their harvest; after a short time the garden was bare and their cellar was filled to the brim with all sorts of edibles. The trees, too, had a more bedraggled, nearly naked appearance; all the fruit had since been plucked by many pairs of little hands, and the red-brown or golden-brown leaves were rapidly falling to the ground like tears.

After they were finished with the task of harvesting, no much felt like having a celebration for their bountiful harvest. Saria viewed all the empty space and was suddenly filled with sadness and longing. When they planted the garden in the spring, Link had been there. Later on he had helped her weed rows of rapidly growing carrots and cabbages, rutabagas and radishes, tomatoes, squash, and a whole assortment of other things that grew on and in the ground. He had always complained about how boring the task of weeding was; oh, what she would have given to hear that childish griping again!

The Kokiri never exclusively stayed in their closed-up, warm little homes during the winter, or surely they would have been bored stiff. They still came out to play and to join in the preparation of their meals, but all wore various cozy clothes made from their white goats' wool. Small flurries of snow would come overnight and dust the village with tiny, perfect flakes, only to melt the next day. The Kokiri loved to play in snow but were so often disappointed that it melted so quickly. On a few occasions, though, they were pleasantly surprised when a bit of colder weather had the forest in its grip and the beautiful, pristine snow lasted for at least a couple days.

During one of these storms, in the later part of December it was, the children were merrily playing in white woods, having snowball fights, building snow children, making snow fairies and building forts, and sliding down the very steep forest valley on large pieces of bark. Saria had half-heartedly begun making little snow sculptures to represent everyone who dwelt there, the first of which was a boy who was never far from her thoughts. She moved on to her other friends and was still only half interested in her work. She was just applying the finishing touches Mido's snubby nose when a rapidly approaching movement called her attention like the lure of a siren.

She suddenly made a jerking movement which would forever seal the fate of snowy Mido's nose as a silly one. She squealed, "Link!" dropped her collection of white flakes from her mittened hand, and darted toward her best friend.

He grinned a mite sheepishly as she nearly pummeled him in an intense hug. "Hello, Saria."

The girl pulled back. "Just 'hello, Saria'?!" she chided him, albeit with a playful glint in her very blue eyes. "You have to tell me what you've been doing, Link! I've missed you so much!" She embraced him fiercely again and added, "Everyone has missed you! Even Mido mopes around and sometimes kicks the ladder to your house!"

The returned child only smiled and glanced up at his guardian fairy. Already, Saria was struck with the thought that he didn't seem so antagonistic toward the older boy, and she was very glad. After that second hug she had the chance to take a good look at him. He had changed, yet he was still her beloved little Link. He also was covered in warm garments which were of a finer quality than those the forest children wore. At the open throat of a sleeved, furry jerkin Saria noticed the familiar green tunic and peeking from beneath that was a bit of chainmail. She didn't quite know what it was then, but she would make Link fill in all the details for her later.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" she cried, grabbing his hand. "Let's go around and see everyone! They'll be so glad to see you and tonight we'll have a celebration for your return!"

The boy appeared worried and was on the point of hesitating as Saria pulled him toward the sledding hill, but he would have given up any and all pleasures rather than to disappoint her. He cast a worried glance at Navi and she whispered into his ear.

"It'll be all right, Link. Don't worry!"

He fretted, though; he couldn't help it. When he and Saria came upon groups of playing Kokiri and sounded so very joyful when she announced that the departed one had come back, pulling him forward for them to see quite plainly, he stopped worrying. Some of the children greeted him shyly and others with the careless, breathless, red-cheeked joy that only frolicking in the snow could give. Even Mido, who was overseeing the safety and sharing of the sledding slope, partly because he got some extra rides, gruffly acknowledged Link's presence. Immediately after, he zoomed down the hill but he lifted his head and looked back when he was only partway down.

After greeting everyone, Link and his best friend made a number of snow fairies, which he always managed to mangle in the process of getting up; afterward he gazed at Saria's perfect creations and grinned to himself the activities and thoughts so familiar to him. When one of the boys slid snow down her back, Link acted the part of an avenging knight and threw wet snowball after wet snowball at the offender. Eventually it became a full blown fight between a great many of the children. The green-haired girl did not actively participate, but she remained with her best friend and helped him form ammunition. The forest was rife with shouts and yells, squees and giggles, and other varied sounds of enjoyment.

When the glow of the departing sun colored the clouds and the world like a rosy dream, the Kokiri were so hungry they could have eaten the goat's hide that clothed them. Instead, they ventured into their root cellar and each child who emerged bore something for the stewpot: carrots, potatoes, rutabagas, turnips, beans, onions, and dried meat, tomatoes and greens. Several of these items had bites missing by the time they tossed it into the boiling water. Saria added herbs and mellow spices which would enhance the meal, and then everyone gathered in front of one huge fire to dry off, warm up, chatter, and wait impatiently for the stew to be at least mostly cooked.

It was hard to think or talk of anything besides the food, the green-haired girl realized. "I know!" she piped up suddenly. "Link, why don't you tell us about your adventures in the outside world?"

The boy was very unsure if the others would deign to listen to him; they'd played with him earlier, but perhaps they'd only been caught up in the moment, and would now treat him with the distance he'd expected upon his return. But perhaps the children had short memories, forgiving natures, or mayhap they just wanted a distraction.

"Yes! Tell us, Link!" some of them cried.

"What sorts of adventures did you have?" queried others.

Mido muttered, "Anything till the stew is ready. I'd watch ants build a nest just as easily."

Link was so very pleased that his formerly uncertain mouth broke into a broad, genuine smile, and without further ado he began to weave picture after picture of the places he'd seen. He described the clustered buildings of Castle Town and the huge populace who lived therein; he tried to form his arms and hands like the great Death Mountain and all of its surrounding ridges, but failed rather miserably; he spoke in hushed tones to convey the solemn, cavernous beauty of Zora's Domain and the splendid, sparkling Lake Hylia; he told them that the red earth of Gerudo Valley was like nothing he had ever seen, and the tribe who dwelt past the bridge were a most clannish bunch. He made them laugh with tales of people he'd met, of the woman in Castle Town was forever losing her beloved little dog, of the little girl whose short legs kept her from catching the cucco that was always just beyond her reach, of a small, cute-faced boy who wanted to look like the village gravedigger, and of strange men who invariably seemed to be running fruitlessly around instead of attending to their work.

The wonderfully aromatic stew was quite well done and the Kokiri fell to their first, second, and third bowls like the ravenous goats that they halfway appeared to be, but still they were hungry for tales of the outside world. Between his own gulping bites of the nourishing liquid and soft vegetables, Link wove his tales on into the night, through the glowing sparks above the fire, and into each attentive ear. When he spoke of the splendid creations available at the Happy Mask Shop, they were intrigued and begged for more. He told them how, to help out the ginning man who owned the shop, he'd sought out several people who were secretly longing for a particular mask, which he then sold. The salesman had assured Link that doing such would make everyone happy, and while he wasn't sure where that emotion came in for those who ended up with the masks, he was quite satisfied because he was sure he was helping people.

Everyone was so comfortable, seated on ground warmed by the immense fire, bellies full of a most satisfying repast, and so contented in both mind and body that no one wanted to move for fear of breaking the spell. They more they heard of those wonderful things Link described as 'masks', the more they implored him to expand on the subject. The storyteller imparted all his knowledge regarding those items, including an incident with a man in Hyrule Field who was obsessed with finding rabbits. When Link had finally pulled every memory, every tidbit about them, he rose and padded a distance away to retrieve the pack that he'd brought with him.

The mystery of the bulging satchel intrigued all but perhaps Mido, and each child leaned forward expectantly to be the first to see what it contained. Link pulled from therein a great quantity of objects, of all sorts of sizes and colors, and with many varied embellishments.

"What are those?" many voices asked

"These are the masks I was telling you about." He picked one up, a vibrant golden one with ears like a fox, placed it over his face and pulled the attached string across the back of his head. "You see? You put it on like this and you can see out the eyeholes," he said, both grin and words muffled.

Every eye was wider than a slice of carrot and every mind was dwelling upon the pleasant thought that maybe Link had brought back so many because he meant to give them away.

Sure enough, in the next few seconds, still wearing his mask, the boy began passing around the others, until each Kokiri held one in his or her very own hands. A great deal of putting on and arrangement followed, and in a matter of minutes the fire was no longer encircled by red-cheeked young children but quite an assortment of small beings with strange, funny, and frightening faces. Link explained that the Gerudo, Goron, and Zora masks were all modeled after certain races in the parts of Hyrule that he'd already expounded upon. Some of the masks made one glad just to look at and feel, while others were scary or sad, and still others were colorful or fancy.

The hour was getting to be extremely late, though no one gave it much thought or would have cared if someone did point it out. Link's gift of the wonderful masks prompted the Kokiri to bounce to their feet and begin dancing around the fire. Saria parted her warm lips to sing thoughts that living in the forest always made her feel, while Link brought out the ocarina she'd given him and did his best to make sounds half as lovely as those that issued from her mouth. As was their custom, the guardian fairies took to the spark-filled air above the fire and there darted back and forth in amazing patterns. To add to the spell-bindingly beautiful sight, the clouds above shook loose their most delicate snowflakes, which sizzled for a half second and disappeared into vapor as soon as they touched the heat of the fire.

Link was sure it was the happiest night in his life and he wished it would never end. Though his desire could not be granted in its entirety, the children stayed up much later than they ever had and somehow no one felt the least bit guilty for doing so. When at last everyone was so tired that they could barely keep their eyes open and their bodies from sinking to the ground in delightful exhaustion, the Kokiri finally went to bed. Link was so weary that he could no longer bemoan the idea of falling into blissful unconsciousness in a cozy little home warmed by the tree's sap.

He and Saria stumbled sleepily through the trampled snow and before they parted ways, she leaned closer, with the string of her mask tucked over her arm, and hugged him. "Thank you, Link, for such a wonderful Christmas! Everyone is so happy with the masks! But we didn't have anything for you…"

But Link didn't care. He'd been accepted into the circle of Kokiri like he never had before; the looks of admiration, bordering on adoration, upon the many faces that had been fixed on him as he let flow his tales and handed out the gifts had made him supremely happy. He didn't want another thing in the entire world.

~ Fin ~

This one-shot is based upon an idea I came up with while playing Ocarina of Time. Because of how my novelization is turning out and the way I have it in my brain, something like this would not fit into it, hence the reason for this short story. Plus, I felt bad for the terrible things I put Link through in the other story that I had to write something happier.