Rainfall
The night grew cold. The wind tore at the folds of his cloak, whipping them into a rousing frenzy. The rain threw angry pelts of needle-like pricks along his back and strong shoulders. His hands gripped the stone railing of the castle wall. Fire danced in the foggy distance despite the deluge. It stood as a resistance to the bruised curtain of black and blue which it pulled over the rooftops. Whispers lived between the showers of droplets and spoke only when they buried their way into the stone. He tried to restrain his thrashing cloak and shut his ears to the storm's demands. His thin lips drew a tight frown as he quelled a shutter cutting through his body. His head swam thick thoughts of recent events and longing of an old friend gone to another world.
The time he spent with her echoed across the threads of his mind like a dream. Her taunting laughter lingered on the night and swept away to join the swirling flame ahead. Unknowingly, his fingers reached into a pouch that hung snuggly at his belt. They found a jagged shard of glass and as he brought it up to his eyes his cerulean gaze stared back at him. He ran his thumb across the mirror piece carefully. Here was the only tangible proof of his legendary journey. Why waste so much time and effort fixing something if it was destined to be shattered in the ultimate end? Anger knotted his stomach. There was no need to destroy her way back to him, especially when the danger had already been thwarted. But he should have expected that type of behavior. It did suit her after all.
A sword lay asleep in a sheathed tied to his back, but stirred as a light shone in the corner of his eye. He turned to the sword's hum and found the source of light to be another cloaked figure. The back of his left hand began to itch. The figure looked up to catch his eyes and a flicker of gold raced around the forehead. A feminine stare appraised him under the hood and gold tiara, her mouth fastened in a proud line. The firelight traced her cheeks with a ghostly glow and highlighted the nobility outlined in her pupils.
He looked away. For some reason he felt almost guilty making eye contact with her, and liked to avoid her as much as possible. He noticed how she always carried her head high and appeared to glide down the castle halls in her rose accented dress. She radiated a profound existence that he found intimidating. Her voice rang like song yet was firm and commanding. She gave orders effortlessly and in such a way that no one would think to begrudge her the requests. A smallest glance sufficed to draw out one's respect. Unspoken questions of a glorious yet shadowed past hid in every step she took.
She filed in place beside him as silent as the smoke that steamed from her torch. It eventually gave itself up to the relentless rain and the shadows were free to come out and play once more. She kept her gaze steady on the landscape he had been previously studying. He turned his face slightly to her. Any inkling to her thoughts was barricaded by her strong beautiful features. He faced ahead again and willed her quietly away. Why was she here anyway?
"You should get back inside."
It was a miracle he had heard her. The wind howled, thunder reigned over the sky, and she had spoken so softly that her voice should have been drowned in the downpour alone. The storm could not overtake her, evidence of her pride. He didn't answer. Instead he watched the rain beat the cold ground.
"The storm isn't good for you. You'll catch sick."
Lightning etched the edge of their silhouettes as he again offered no response. She watched him intently, swinging her full body to face him.
"You're a very peculiar man."
He blinked and met her gaze, shadows clung to his irises.
"You don't like—to talk much do you?"
He opened his mouth to say something but his voice cracked from the lack of use. It was true he hadn't spoken much since he had left his home to come here.
"At least—you don't talk to me." She finished.
He adverted his eyes and shut his mouth. She nodded slowly as if that gesture closed her case. He felt guilt swell in his chest.
"That's not—true…" he mustered.
"You remind me of someone."
Her sudden change of subject startled him but he didn't press the matter. When she saw that he wouldn't interject she continued on, though a little sadly.
"Someone my grandmother used to tell me about. I loved to hear her stories about a brave hero with a funny hat and blue eyes…riding on the back of a strong horse, a silver sword raised high in his hand…"
Without much thought he pulled the hood tighter around his face, though the hat he wore restricted the cloak's movement. Parts of her legend had been told to him by various others, but he never understood it. The story seemed to have so many gaps and holes and loose ends that he could never make any sense of it. Sometimes he wondered if his own journey would become another part to that story and how much of the actual truth would be lost over the ages.
"She waited for his return I think," she talked on, "I think she missed him. But he never came back. People started to believe that she had made him up. That she was getting old and crazy…but I believed her. I wanted to meet her hero. But I got older and then it really did seem like some fairytale. But then you came along. You came along exactly when we needed you."
"I'm not who you think I am," He said with a surprising edge to his voice, "I'm not that hero in the legend."
She shook her head. "No, you're not. You're drawn a little tighter than what my grandmother described."
He felt a bit of injustice at that last comment. Who was she to say that he was the one drawn tight?
"But you can't deny that you have taken his place. Just as I have taken my grandmother's."
The sword hummed at his back again and the rain began to let up. He nodded.
"Yes…I suppose the Legend of Zelda will always remain in the hearts of Hyrule."
A small smile flashed on her face. "For as long as Hyrule itself remains."
He nodded and walked toward the door leading inside the castle. "It's a marvelous duty. I am grateful to bear it."
She smiled again and swung the door open. "Just remember that you'll never have to bear it alone."