Ten

If someone came up and asked me about it, I would tell him that it's a long, kind of twisted story. Not twisted, maybe, but complicated certainly. Then of course that someone would be obligated to sit down and grin at me and say, "Hey, I have time."

So I would sigh and tug off my cap and fiddle with it a moment and consider telling him. But after I remained silent a while, gathering my thoughts, and thinking back on the past, he would elbow my side, still grinning, and say, "Telling a story is easy—it's surviving it in the first place that's hard. Start with a title."

A title. A word or two or more that encompassed everything the story was about. All of the emotion, the heartbreak, the fights, the letdowns, the hope, the relief… Did a title like that exist for this story? Then a word would drift to my mind and I would bob my head and consider putting my hat back on. But then I would pause and lower my arms and keep it in my hands.

I would need something to tug on, as if tugging the very story itself out of the hat.

"I would call it 'Ten,'" I would answer finally, and then he would look at me funny and shake his head.

"Why 'Ten?'" he would ask. I would look up at the sky and shrug a bit.

"That's how old we were," I would answer simply.

"That's stupid."

"That's the truth—and I think it means a lot to the story."

"How's that?"

I would stop fiddling with my hat for a moment and give him a side-long glance to see him patiently waiting for my answer.

"Because it only happened because we were ten, and it began when we were ten, and it ended when we were ten.

Because I never stayed ten."

"Link what are you doing?" Saria hissed worriedly. They were so going to get caught.

"Hey, don't worry; it's okay," I laughed. "Look it's just going to mess him up a bit; it won't hurt him or anything."

"I know Mido can be a jerk, especially to you, but do you really think that we should—?" I dropped from the ledge I'd been dangling from and landed softly on my feet, grinning like a mad cat. Saria grinned back at me ruefully.

"It'll be great, don't worry," I promised, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards our hiding place. We would wait here until Mido came out, and then—Bam!

As we crouched behind the bush, waiting for him to answer the door—I had knocked on it before we went to hide, to make sure we weren't waiting for hours—my gaze wandered down to our intertwined hands and I smiled again, not thinking much of it.

Stop me if you've heard this before, but I wasn't like the other Kokiri in that sense. I was always a bit bigger than the other boys and girls growing up, and I didn't have a fairy—that was the obvious stuff. I looked a bit out of place if you only considered that much.

But there were other things.

Like the fact that most of the Kokiri boys were full grown by this age, and they would never get taller or older. But somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I knew I was still growing—that I hadn't reached my fullest potential yet.

I still assumed it would stop fairly soon though—it couldn't go on much longer, this getting taller business.

But even if I did get a little taller than the rest of them, it wasn't that big of a deal. It would just mean that Mido wouldn't pick on me so lightly anymore—none of the others would. If growing taller was my only problem, I really didn't have many 'problems' at all.

But that wasn't all.

It was something that went beyond physical traits and having (or not having) a fairy.

It was something I had noticed only recently—and really only with Saria.

The other boys hated girls, with their cooties and stuff, but I didn't hate girls anymore.

I didn't like girls or anything—that would be way icky, even for me—but I didn't hate them like the other boys, who would pick on them and tease them. I was the only boy who stood up for the girls—the only one (or so Saria claimed) that was even a little polite towards the girls.

Mido had once joked that maybe I was turning into a girl myself, but I had promptly and soundly bopped him in the face for saying as much—he didn't say anything to me for a week after. The Great Deku Tree, though, had quite a few choice words for me.

"Link you know that violence is frowned upon," he rumbled as I sat in front of him, sighing listlessly. "Our society is a peaceful, happy one. We have such great fortune to be able to live here in peace as we do. I do not want that peace ruined, do you?"

"Of course not," I muttered.

"Why must you fight with Mido, Link? He can be a bit rough around the edges, but he does not act the way he does for reasons you might imagine."

"It's just not fair," I exclaimed. "I'm the only one who ever gets lectured, and Mido's always the one who starts it! It's not my fault he's a stupid jerk! Why does it matter if I have a fairy or not—why does that give him the right to pick on me?" I let out a huff of air, sitting back down, without ever remembering standing up in the first place.

"You have much anger in your heart, Young One," Great Deku hummed. "Be brave and let that anger and hatred go. If you let it stew within you, then surely you are doomed to walk a cursed path. I am not punishing you, by making you speak with me. I only wish to help you grow into the brave man you should be."

"I don't want to grow up into anything though," I responded. "I just want to be able to play with Saria without worrying about Mido bothering us."

"You do not like it when Mido interrupts your playtime?" Great Deku asked.

"Of course not!"

"And what of Saria?"

"Wh-what about her?" I stuttered, suddenly unsure about the direction of the conversation.

"What does she think of Mido and you fighting all the time?" Great Deku clarified. "I know the two of you are rather close friends, so I image you are at least honest with each other."

"She thinks I shouldn't fight back," I muttered, but quickly tacked on, "But she does think he deserves everything he gets!"

'But that does not mean she wants you to be the one to give it to him."

I opened my mouth, but then shut it again quickly. He was right about that much—I really couldn't deny it. Even though Saria saw what Mido did to me, she still told me I shouldn't waste time getting revenge. I shouldn't waste time worrying over it.

"Here is a thought for you, Young One," Great Deku rumbled, once more gaining Link's attention. "Perhaps you should spend more time playing with Saria, and less time focused on Mido and finding a fairy. The days yawn shorter and shorter Young One."

I nodded mutely and stood up to leave, not quite sure what to make of the final words Great Deku had spoken. But he was right about spending more time with Saria and less worrying about stupid Mido. No matter what, I had to try and stop fighting with him—otherwise I would just end up wasting time listening to Great Deku talk about peace.

So how did I end up crouching behind a bush, holding Saria's hand, and waiting for Mido to come outside?

It's not that I don't have any willpower; it's just that he insulted Saria this time. Not me—this had nothing to do with me—this was about sticking up for someone else. And even if Saria or Great Deku didn't believe me when I told them, I had thought this one through.

Even if all that awaited me was a stern talking to, it would be worth it.

Suddenly the door to Mido's house creaked open, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Who's—?"

Wham!

I swear half the village turned to look in shock at the sight I had just created. Mido was covered in white powder—the only way to tell it was even a person anymore was by the big eyes now blinking in surprise.

"What is this?" he screeched, doing his best to brush off, but it quickly became apparent that this would at least require a bath. "I—I—!"

I started to laugh at the sight of it all—him standing there dumbfounded, all white—but then Saria elbowed me in the ribs and pointed towards Mido. I looked again and did at least a double take. Big, fat drops started falling from his eyes as he sniffed miserably. Other kids from the village weren't just watching, they were snickering and pointing.

Saria looked at me in disappointment, before quickly running off.

I didn't bother to stand up or chase after her—when she was ready she would meet me in our usual spot—but I still felt an odd pang in the pit of my stomach. I examined the scene until one feeling settled over me: this was wrong.

This time I didn't wait for someone to summon me to Great Deku—I walked there myself.

"Link, this is a surprise," he rumbled, nonetheless sounding pleased.

"Great Deku, I did something bad."

There was a long, long pause as my guardian stayed still—listening or thinking, I didn't know which. Finally he shook out his branches, making a gusty rustling sound, and signifying he understood the situation. Link felt the disappointment roll off him in a great wave.

"Link, why did you—?"

"It was for Sarai, oaky!" I shouted before he had the chance to fully ask. I plopped down on the ground and brought my knees up and tucked them under my chin. "He was being a jerk and pushed her in the pond in front of everyone, so I wanted to embarrass him in front of everyone!"

"Did that make you or Saria, for that matter, feel any better?" he asked wisely. I shook my head in the negative, feeling tears of my own welling up. "Link, go make up with Saria, and explain why you did it. Think about how it made you feel—think about the feelings of everyone involved, and never let that knowledge leave your heart."

"But Great Deku—!"

"I cannot guide you every step of the way Young One, as much as I wish I could."

Wordlessly I nodded and trooped off to find Saria. As expected she was in our secret meeting place, where no one would see us or bother us. Sometimes it just felt good to sit around with your best friend and talk about what was on your mind.

Only this time we both had the same thing on their minds—and this time there was a sad overtone to the place.

I never imagined it would only be the first time I came across this same situation.

"Saria," I started hesitantly. She looked at me expectantly. "I'm sorry about the prank w—I pulled on Mido. I know it wasn't right, but I never meant to make him cry. I didn't mean for that to happen. And… and I just did it in the first place for… for you."

I let out a sigh of relief, glad I could tell her all of this in one go.

"It's okay," she muttered. "I know you didn't mean it, but… when I saw him so upset, and I saw you laughing I… I remembered the first time I met you." My throat suddenly felt tight and my stomach did an odd, little flip.

The first time she had met me was also the first time Mido had picked on me. He noticed I didn't have a fairy and started poking me rudely, asking where my fairy was. Wondering why I didn't have one in the first place. He started to shove me, but I remembered Great Deku had told me never to retaliate.

So I stood there and took it for a while, dirty and bruised, before Saria marched over and chased him off. As soon as he had ran out of sight, I burst into tears, dropping to my knees, sobbing, and wondering why, why, why me?

But this time it was the other way around. I was the bully who made someone cry—and it wasn't a feeling I liked at all.

Maybe that was the only difference between good and evil. The first time you hurt a person—how you felt after. That was it, right there, that feeling.

And for me it had felt terrible.

"I'm sorry," I muttered again.

"It's okay," she mumbled. "But—."

"Don't worry," I interrupted. "You don't even have to ask—I'll never do anything like that again." She looked up at me and smiled, and I felt the corners of my mouth twist up in response. I held out my hand, and after a hesitant moment, she took it and we walked off together—everything mended between us.

But it was approaching my eleventh year.

And something happened that year that changed everything.

I got a fairy.

And I was told to leave.

Leave behind the forest, everything I knew, everyone I had grown up with and grown to love. I couldn't save Great Deku, and I didn't know what would happen to my friends. But with his dying breath he told me—me, the outcast—to do what had never been done.

He told me to leave the forest.

I had everything with me that I would need—I didn't even bother stopping by my room. I walked straight out of the forest, not daring to look anyone in the eye. No one stopped me, until I started across the bridge. I turned in surprise—only to see Saria standing there looking…

Disappointed?

She gave me a small gift—a gift I would use frequently, and cherish even more so. A little, wood-carved ocarina.

What I didn't know as I left the village, was that she had been summoned to Great Deku the night before—the night of my nightmare.

"Saria, thank you for coming at such a late hour," he rumbled, clearly not feeling well—something in the way his branches drooped gave him away before he even had the chance to come up with an excuse.

"It's okay," she said, staring up at him. "What's…? What's wrong?" She was going to ask him what was wrong with him—was he sick?—but somehow she knew better. She knew there were other reasons she had been called here, and his illness was not hers to deal with.

"As I am sure you can sense, I am not well," he began. "But I have taken my time to speak with each child about this—you may have noticed the tensions in the air—but I hope you had not heard before now just what exactly was wrong."

No, she hadn't heard, but she had noticed. Noticed the way Mido's teasing was half-hearted, how the ones who ran the shop seemed a little bit down-trodden lately… little signs existed everywhere, but every time she mentioned it they would pretend not to notice. Link hadn't noticed anything either, which only made it harder on her.

"I requested they not tell either you or Link," he continued. "I still must speak to Link, but I had to speak to you first—to prepare you for what is to come. Saria, Link will need you in more ways than he may know in the upcoming time of his life. You must be strong for him, because he will undoubtedly be looking to you as moral support.

"It is a cruel thing, to ask a sweet child such as yourself to support someone who will find so much heartache and doubt, but you are the person he trusts most in the world. I wish the day had not come that I must tell you this, but Saria, Link is leaving and going far away—and only his own courage will assure that we seem him in this meadow again."

"Going… away?" she questioned, disbelieving. "He can't be going away! Where would he go to?"

"I am so sorry Saria, but this is the path he must take—just as you will find, in time, that you have your own path to walk down," Great Deku answered sadly. "Perhaps now would be a good time to ask, for surely you have sensed it: you do not feel like the others?"

It was hardly a question; she knew as soon as he uttered the words, but just the same she knew the answer. She wasn't different in the way Link was—no Link was still by far the most unusual of them—but she had feelings, buried deep in her heart, and questions she dared not utter.

These things she knew no one else had.

"It is okay to speak what lies in your heart," Great Deku said softly. She fell to her knees and held her hands close to her heart, feeling weak and uncertain—not the ways a Kokiri should feel.

"Why do I feel like this Great Deku? What are these unnamed feelings that stir in my heart whenever he's around?" she asked. "Why… why does it hurt me every time I'm not with him? Why… why do I have these feelings that no one else has?

I'm scared. I'm so scared."

"It will be all right, Child," Great Deku said gently. "It is natural to let your heart burst forth and release these feelings. And it is natural for you to be feeling them. You have a special connection with Link that neither of you quite understands yet, but I know also… there is a mortal twang to your heart. A feeling as old as the forest itself.

And there is no shame in that."

She looked up at Great Deku, tears falling from her eyes and nodded in understanding. She had a gift to give Link—and then something, some way to help him beyond that—and she would discover it in due time, but all she could do for now was hold in the tears until he turned his back to her and raced off.

Time passed in odd stops and goes, for both of us.

I found myself learning of her conversation with Great Deku only seven years later, as I wondered back to the village where I had grown up—no, where I had literally grown up. I finally understood I wasn't merely a different Kokiri, but I wasn't a Kokiri at all.

I grew taller, lankier, and I started to understand the feelings that started churning in me long ago.

Fighting with monsters had grown to be second nature, so I quickly found my way to the first sage I had been commanded to release. Confusion washed over me at the sight of my best friend, but then I slowly understood why she stood before me.

I had to crouch down to see at eye level with her.

So I sat there, and she sat there, and we talked for a while—as long as time would allow, and time after all, is a cruel thing indeed. We caught up on what we had missed out on, but we never said the words that still lingered from a childhood long ago lost.

In the end, we never spoke those words to each other—even as she faded from my sight.

I exited the forest slowly, knowing the short-cuts out, but choosing to take the long route out. I ran into Mido again—I couldn't help grinning nostalgically when I saw him, still a child—and we spoke briefly. I don't know how, but I think he knew, somewhere deep down, who I was.

Because otherwise he never would have brought up Saria.

"She… was a really cool person," he explained, twiddling a piece of grass between his fingers. "Before this Link kid showed up, we were pretty much best friends. But then he showed up, and she started hanging out with him instead.

"It made me mad, so I always picked on him. I don't expect a big, stupid adult like you to understand, but she was my best friend. And then she fell in love with that stupid Link kid. I thought love was only for stupid adults. Shouldn't we all love each other equally as kids?"

"Yeah, we should," I agreed quietly. "Thanks Mido, for everything. Take care of yourself."

I stood up, turned around, and walked off, just in time to let the tears slip from my eyes without him seeing, but not before I heard him whisper…

"Bye Link."