DISCLAIMER: I am in no way affiliated with Nintendo and/or Zelda. I get no money and do this for entertainment purposes only.

Lenzo's Love

A Romance

Lenzo sat in his darkroom, carefully developing film. They were beautiful Pictographs, depicting everyday life on Windfall Island. As the images slowly made their way onto the blank pages, Lenzo saw that a blonde woman, about his age, was in one of the pictures. Gillian, she was riddled with freckles across her face, hair neatly tied behind her head. You couldn't tell in the black and white photo, but Lenzo remembered she was wearing a beautiful robin's egg blue dress, with a red belt. She looked like the only color in the small café she was in, sipping her coffee. Lenzo sighed. He gently hung each photograph with a bobby pin, and left the small room.

He sat in a rocking chair, flipping through a pictograph album. All of the pictures were lovely. Slowly he moved on to another album, filled with pictures he had taken in his youth. He remembered those days, when he had been young and naïve. He had been a hopeless romantic as well. Everything was so perfect in those days. Lenzo began to fall asleep, and have dreams of days long past…

A young man in his mid-teens crouched down in the bushes. Slowly he focused his Picto Box on a small sailboat in the distance.

SNAP!

He caught another perfect moment on film. It was what he lived for. He scratched his large nose as he smirked with delight. He had a knack for this, and he knew it.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice asked him. He turned to see an island resident sitting on the bench next to him.

"What does it look like?" He pointed to the red wooden Picto Box hanging on his neck. Instead of getting the reaction he expected, the girl noticed the wrong thing.

"Getting grass stains on your yellow robes? I didn't know that's what young men did for fun." She turned to watch the ocean. The two of them were sitting on a cliff side that over looked the beautiful Great Sea.

"No, I am capturing beautiful moments on film." He corrected her.

"It doesn't seem like it." The girl answered.

SNAP!

"What did you just do?" She looked angrily at the boy.

"I just caught another beautiful moment." He smiled at her, standing and sitting next to her.

"You don't mean me?" She asked, blushing.

"Of course not, I said I caught a beautiful moment." He laughed jokingly, but the girl did not do the same. She slapped him.

"You have some nerve! What's your name anyway?" Her face was red with anger, his with pain.

"Lenzo, and yours?" He rubbed his check.

"Gillian, though I don't know why I should tell the likes of you!" She screamed. Now standing, her hands were fists at her sides. Face still red as a Lenzo's Picto box and growing darker.

Lenzo rubbed his face. "Well, ma' am, I will be going. It was a pleasure to capture your…" Not sure what to say. "Beauty, on my film." He bowed slightly and walked off, leaving the furious woman to her own.

When he arrived back at the Picto Box Shop, his master Shutter was waiting for him.

"Ah, Lenzo! What beautiful pictures have you brought me today?" The elderly man asked. He was dressed in blue, and his own golden Picto box hung around his neck. It was Shutter that showed Lenzo what a beautiful combination those colors were.

"Not much, I didn't use my full three pictures. I took a picture of a boat on the horizon and a lovely girl. Sadly, her sense of humor wasn't as lovely as her looks." Lenzo sighed.

Shutter nodded in accord. "It be that way with women my son. Now give me you film so I can do good things with the pictos." Lenzo did as he was told.

"I am going to my room, Shutter." He left his things at the foot of the staircase and ran up stairs to his little room. It wasn't much. The walls were the same as the rest of the walls in the shop—wood. But Lenzo masked the monotony by pinning his pictures on the wall. The floor was the same as the ceiling, but because of Lenzo's love of color, Shutter gave him a small carpet.

Lenzo sat on his small bed and thought about the last few moments of his day. Gillian, however touchy she was, had a certain air about her. Her golden locks and reddish freckles were an image Lenzo had to capture. It didn't really matter anymore, for they were burned in his memory. He needed to see her again. He stood up and sat at his small desk, took out a pen and paper and began to write.

Dearest Gillian,

I am forever sorry for what happened today. It is true that the beauty I was capturing was you—your breaths in and out, your scattered freckles, the spun gold that is your hair. My only wish is that I could have captured your voice, your smell and your feel. My only wish is that I could have captured you, and confessed my--shall we call love--for you.

Yours forever truly and sincerely,

Lenzo.

He closed the envelope and wrote her name on it with his best penmanship. He sent it out. Waited the next day for his own mailbox to be full. And he waited the day after that, and the day after that one. But none came. So he gave up and went out to take a picture of her.

But he could not find her. Instead he went to the dock and took pictures of the sailors and boats. And most especially Buddle's sailing market. Buddle had a five-year-old son, Beedle. He sat on the deck with a makeshift fishing pole and every time the boat passed Lenzo, he waved happily. Lenzo took many pictures of Beedle.

"Why, have you found a new object of affection?" Gillian asked from behind him.

"No, my only fear is that you have." Lenzo stated.

"Well," she began. "I actually had to wait forever to do something."

"What's that?" Asked Lenzo, focusing on a fish.

"Buy a Picto box, of course."

SNAP!

"What did you do that for?" Lenzo asked, looking up from his camera.

"To capture your chestnut hair, and clear complexion. Your breaths. My only regret is that I could not capture your love." She smiled at him.

"Does this mean you feel the same way?" Lenzo asked, smiling as well.

"No," there was a tear in her eye. "I love someone else. But I will never forget you…"

Lenzo woke up in the rocking chair, tears on his face. He brushed his face with his hand, then combed his beard with his fingers. He stood and put his photo albums away. Slowly he opened the door to his dark room, and took down each picto. When he came to the picto of Gillian he stopped and looked at it. He took a deep breath and let go of the picture. It slowly floated through the air into the trash. And there it was, among exposed negatives and clippings. And there it stayed.