Fairytale
Dream
Today
was The Day. When the sun slowly crept up upon the distant horizon and began to
spill its fiery warmth upon the green, fertile earth, it wasn't just the same
old affable greeting announcing the day's beginning. Oh no. This was The
Day of all days, as pivotal in one fermented life in particular as the day the
goddesses descended upon Hyrule so long ago. What made this day so dissimilar
from others of its time? Why, this was the day that Malon of Lon Lon Ranch had
decided to disclose something of the greatest importance in her life to her
best and only friend, none other than the Hero of Time himself: Link.
She
loved him.
This was no ordinary puppy love, not even
similar to it by the smallest degree. This was Love: the kind that Naryu
herself gently coaxes from a seed of innocent admiration to a vast field of
unwavering adoration and limitless affection. It had all begun so
unpretentiously with that fateful day in the Hyrule Market; where Malon, the
young, fiery ranch girl had adventitiously chanced upon a small, singular
faerie boy by the name of Link.
An
innocent request to search for her sleeping father; a noisy cucco; a beautiful
melody to tame a wild foal; one thing had lead to another until the little
Kokiri boy and the petite farm girl had developed the beginnings of a boundless
friendship that would endure throughout Ganondorf's reign of evil. Malon
realized now that she had never believed in Fate until that day in the
marketplace.
While the slightest tendrils of their
intertwining companionship had just begun to weave together, however, a great
and utterly dismal calamity had occurred, which resulted in the loss of Malon's
only friend: Link had never returned after his visit to the Temple of Time. He
had been so pleased with himself for finally collecting, after many long and
laborious hours of gruesome battles and instinctual reflexes, the three Sacred
Spiritual Stones of Hyrule left behind by the goddesses. After rushing to Malon
to show her the three radiant jewels he had so meritoriously earned himself,
she had urged him to journey to the Temple of Time, just as the princess had
advised him to, to discover what awaited him there. In a state of childish
curiosity and utter exhilaration, he had rushed off to the sacred place in
hopes of unraveling his quest. A day had passed, then a week, followed sadly
after by a month.
He
never returned.
In that seemingly short, yet fearfully long,
seven-year span in Link's absence, Ganondorf gained control of the Triforce of
Power and transmuted the once serene land of Hyrule into a nightmarish reality
and lurid place of monsters, ghosts, and oppression. Unbelieving to the last,
Malon felt that somehow things would return to the previously peaceful way of
life, and that her existence at that time could not possibly get any worse than
it had become. She soon discovered, however, that Ganondorf's reign had been
only the most outlying winds of the storm to come, and, like a redoubtable
hurricane, the worst was far from over.
Soon
after Hyrule's decline into darkness, the horrendous future that awaited Malon
revealed itself in the swift movements of Fate's nimble fingers: her father was
thrown out of his own ranch, leaving Ingo in charge of the once prestigious and
renowned establishment.
And so, by the macabre humor of the darkest
forces, a life of beatings, abuse, odium, and cruelty for Malon ensued
Ganondorf's abhorred judgment. If she ever filled the troughs too high or left
the stable floor anything less than impeccable, a callous and brutal punishment
delivered by Ingo's drunken fists soon followed.
* * * *
Malon could hear the approaching sounds and
smells of Ingo's intoxicated drivel, carried by the harsh winds from the ranch
gate to the stable. Working only by the light of a small, half-melted candle
beside her, it suddenly became much more of a challenge to discern whether or
not the wooden planks were clean. She began to scrub the floor even harder with
the brush as his erratic footsteps could be heard drawing ever nearer to the
stable's wooden door. Remembering that he did not tolerate open horse stall
doors, she quickly shut them all and knelt down once again to continue in her
labor.
Silently,
she prayed that the footfalls would pass by the stable and continue on toward
the house. The goddesses, however, were silent that night.
The door creaked open at first and was then
slammed against the wall, revealing Ingo's drunken figure and fuming
countenance. The tears begged to spring free and her fearful heart pounded
restlessly in her chest. But, despite all her horrified fears, she would not
give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower in his presence. She may have
lost her hope, dignity, and self-respect, but she hadn't lost her common sense.
Showing fear to him was nothing less than an invitation to another beating.
After allowing his bloodshot eyes to adjust the
dim light in the stable, he stumbled over the threshold, surveying the
surroundings the best he could with unfocused eyesight. After his eyes had made
one sweep around the building, his irate gaze fell on Malon, who was kneeling
on the floor with her back to him, scrubbing away at the planks. She didn't
need to turn and confront his stare directly. The chills on her back assured
her it was there.
"W...what ith thisth?" he slurred angrily,
finding it hard to speak with a mouth of cotton. "I thhhought I told you to…
clean thisth place uup?"
"I...I did, Mr. Ingo. I did everything you told
me to. I cleaned the stalls, stacked the hay, fed the…" Malon responded, as
best she could without fear.
"Shut
up, you whore!" he interjected furiously, his speech becoming more coherent
once he began to yell. "I told you to have this place spotless by the time I
got back and look at this shithole! There's hay everywhere, and the floor's not
even clean enough for the rats! It's only clean enough for you!"
A
solitary tear fell from her eye. No, she commanded herself, you will
not show him you're afraid! She just continued scrubbing the floor,
attempting to block out the fear and reminding herself that she knew full well
the floor was spotless and all the hay was in the horses' stalls.
"Are you listening to me, bitch?! By the
goddesses, I'll make you learn to pay attention when I'm talking to you!" he
raged, raising his fist.
The next thing she felt was the hard wooden floor
rushing up to meet her face with a resounding thud. After hitting her in the
head, he grabbed her by the hair and rammed her face into the nearest pole
repeatedly until his arm tired. Blood seeping from the wounds on her forehead
and face, he turned her to face him and punched her across the face, then in
the eye. She fell to the floor, gasping for breath and crying uncontrollably.
The
beatings always destroyed her resolve not to shed a tear.
Writhing in pain, she clutched her throbbing
head and attempted to curl into a fetal position. But he quickly kicked her in
the stomach once, twice, three times. He then swiftly kicked her in the head,
ending his brutal punishment and storming out of the stable.
The throbbing pain coursing throughout her body
was immense, as if thousands of swords and clubs were beating her about the
body and some sharp spear was attempting to break through her skull from
within. She had grown accustomed to the beatings themselves, but the pain was
something else entirely; she would never be able to get used to it, never be
able to block it out like she had everything else in her life.
I wonder what it's like, she thought
sadly, to be free like the wind…
The darkness of unconsciousness soon greeted her
with open arms and she gladly accepted, although the tears never ceased nor
ebbed while she lie there on the cold stable floor. Slowly, the light from the
single candle faded along with her, and was finally snuffed out by the
ever-pressing shadows.
No
friends, no relatives, no dreams to comfort her could be found in that lonely,
stark ranch. Each night presented its own malevolence and misery; each night
she wished that Farore would grant her wings with which to fly, to be free of
the living hell her existence had become and fly with the wind; and each night,
silence and tears were the only visitors brought to her by the cold, harsh
moonlight that illuminated the stable floor.
She
was alone. Again.
Forever.
* * * *
Malon
grabbed her hairbrush from the sparsely scattered belongings atop her wooden
dresser and slowly began to brush the knots and tangles from her fiery hair.
She made sure to brush each side of her hair extra carefully, should she miss
even the tiniest unruly strand.
Everything
had to be perfect, flawless.
After
ten straight minutes of smoothing her hair, she walked to her white water basin
near her bed and filled it with lukewarm water from the pitcher standing next
to it. She washed her face numerous times, making sure to scrub every last spec
of dirt from her sun kissed skin. Glancing in the mirror and scrutinizing every
aspect of her features, she was finally satisfied with her appearance. Now, for
the most important question of the morning: which dress to wear?
Immediately
an idea presented itself. She rushed to the trunk at the foot of her bed,
scrounged through the many memories contained within it, and, after a few
moments of searching, sighed in content as she withdrew something from the box.
Lovingly, she tried on the dress and admired its imperial quality it in the
mirror.
It
was made of a deep lavender fabric, a color usually reserved only for royalty.
The sleeves reached down her arms to her small wrists, where the material came
together in a point on the top of her hand. The waistline made a V that dipped
down in the middle, leading the eyes to the skirt, which flowed gently around
her in the traditional, graceful shape of a princess's dress. Seeing the dress
fit so perfectly over her curved and shapely figure excited her immensely, but
her eyes shown only with sadly happy memories.
This
dress had been her mother's favorite, given to Malon upon her mother's death,
and she had never dawned it before now. Her mother had told her she only wore
the dress when she felt it was going to be a singular, beautiful day: one that
would never present its likeness again in her lifetime.
If
there were to be any day more extraordinary or beautiful than this day in
Malon's life, she would have to journey to the Sacred Realm to find such a
thing, for it wouldn't exist in reality.
* * * *
Another
bruise. I'm going to have to start wearing a veil to hide these hideous things
from the visitors to the ranch. Mr. Ingo wouldn't be pleased if strangers began
to talk…Malon
thought resignedly.
It
had been six years since that night in the stable, but the memory of such a
horrid event was no longer fresh in her mind. The beatings were far too common
and savage to remember each one in punctilious detail. Besides, her memories of
her life had dulled and faded with each aching blow to her body.
In
the beginning of her imprisonment, for that's exactly what it was, she had
hoped that Ingo would realize the error in his cruel treatment and treat her
more kindly. How naïve I was back then…I should have known that nothing
would change she thought bitterly.
As
the years of time progressed and lead her into the sixth year of hell, the
labor and punishments only grew far worse than anything she could have
imagined. As things stood now, Ingo didn't even attempt to find an excuse to
thrash her, sober or not. Sometimes he would attack her everyday, and then
leave her untouched for weeks. With all this, she didn't dare to even hope for
a cessation to the beatings.
She
had given up hope long ago, along with her dreams of becoming free like the
untamed wind.
Such
things were too childish to believe in.
Sighing
again as she sensed her bruised face and swollen lip, she gingerly touched each
of the livid areas. A dull sensation of pain screamed in opposition to her
touch. She knew she would have to apply a cool cloth to them later to reduce
the swelling, but the workday had to begin with the cuccos clamoring.
Lifting
her labor dress from the floor, she proceeded to dress herself. She brushed her
hair with her fingers, for Ingo had taken her hairbrush along with her life,
and tied her bandana around her neck to soak up the sweat that was to come. It
was impossible to see what her appearance looked like, that is, if she had even
cared to, because Ingo had confiscated her mirror as well. With eyes as
lifeless as the cheerless moonlight that plagued Hyrule of late, she walked to
the well to begin her day's torturous labors.
As
she filled the trough with just enough water, no more nor less than what was
necessary, she glanced at her reflection in the cool water. Her once cheerful,
sun kissed face had grown pale and impassive along with her eyes, which had
lost their once radiantly green color and been reduced to a lackluster
olive-gray. A smile was not to be seen on her lips, and one hadn't surfaced for
six long years.
Turning
her attention from the water to the horses, her eyes seemed to grow more olive
now than gray, the nearest expression of happiness she could muster. Working
with the horses was the only thing really left in her life now. Although it was
not enough to provoke a smile from her somber lips, it lifted her spirits a
little more each time than she thought she was capable of.
Essentially,
the animals were the only companionship she had left to look forward to. Anyone
who happened to visit the ranch never spared her a second glance or even a
greeting in passing, much less any form of conversation. They would leave after
a few days and never look back, never return.
For
some inexplicable reason, each time this happened she was overwhelmed with an
unusual sadness, as if she had experienced this same scenario in another time
or life. However, each time that feeling crept up upon her, she would brush it
off with another stroke of Epona's mane, knowing that no such thing had ever
happened. No one had ever come to the ranch to talk with her; she had never had
a chance to make such friends.
She
was alone, a prisoner in her own home. Once, long ago, she had wanted to be
free like the wild winds, to leave her captivity behind and fly somewhere,
anywhere, else. But she had learned a hard and desolate truth these past five
years that was forever etched upon her hollow heart.
Dreams,
and the happiness that accompanied them, were not meant to come true for her.
* * * *
"Malon!"
Talon called from downstairs, actually awake for once. "Is everything ready for
tonight?"
Pulled
from her reverie, Malon quickly took off the dress. "Yes, daddy. I'm going to
pick up anything else we need in Kakariko," she replied, laying the dress on
her bed.
Her
father had decided a few weeks ago it had been far too long since old friends
had gathered together in the same place. So, to fulfill this void, he had
invited everyone they knew to Lon Lon Ranch for a simple get together, where
memories could be exchanged and old friends remembered. The spare storage
building on the ranch had been transformed into a Great Hall of sorts, with
benches and tables and numerous places from which to serve food. A bonfire had
been arranged for the time when the goddesses laid the sun to rest, and
musicians hired for dancing underneath a moonlit night.
Lon
Lon Ranch had been a bustling place for the past week, filled with sounds of
tables being constructed by Talon and Ingo and the smells of delicious food,
exhaustingly prepared by Malon. Their arduous work, however, shown through in
the magnificent final product of the storage building's interior, and the stage
was set for that night.
It
was at this particular gathering that Malon planned to confess her love for her
best friend. She wasn't entirely sure what had induced her to tell him; perhaps
it was the fact that her feelings had never been as intense or strong as they
were now, or that she felt she owed it to him to let him know how she really
felt about him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the smallest flickering flame of
hope within her heart that told her she would never know how he truly felt
about her unless she instigated it.
Several
years of friendship had taught her that Link, while he was undoubtedly the
bravest of heroes, was the most nervous, bashful person out of anyone she knew
when it came to anything dealing with love.
Whatever
the case may be, all Malon knew was that she was going to tell him tonight. But
before she could even venture to think upon that matter, her chores for the day
had to be finished. Hastily, she dressed in her usual working clothes and
headed out to the stables, determined to make record time for finishing her
daily labors.
* * * *
Malon collapsed into
her bed with the moon already half way across the dark sky. She was tired, and
not just physically. Her daily existence was becoming more and more of a
challenge than she ever thought possible; simply waking up was a nightmare she
dreaded more than the horrors she dreamt nightly.
Releasing an empty
sigh, she glanced up through her window at the midnight heavens. They were
dotted with thousands of winking gems and a crescent moon that quietly
dominated the strangely foreign scene. I think that's the first time I've
really looked at the moon in the past seven years. Up until now, it's always
seemed so…bleak.
As usual, Ingo had
been barking orders at her all day long, telling her to fill the troughs, empty
them because they were too high, feed the horses, replenish the hay. It was
exhausting work, but she didn't dare rise against him in the slightest
opposition. She had long before discovered Ingo's foul temper when she had had
the audacity to question his commands, and she had been smart enough to
realize, after the first time, never to cross him again. She had learned the
very hard way.
She didn't know how
much longer she could stand it: this feeling of loneliness and helplessness
that plagued her day in and day out. Of course she had thought about, even
attempted, ending it all with one swift stroke of the cutting blade. But every
time she had endeavored to bring the knife down upon her wrist or throat,
something silent had always held her back. It could almost be described as a
pleading whisper.
Besides, death was the
easy way out of things. Whatever splinter of pride she had left within her soul
would not allow her to commit such a cowardly act; yes, it was more difficult
to bear the constant pain and limitless suffering, but when everything was said
and done she would still be able to hold her head up high in the end. That is,
that's what she believed she would feel if she could ever hope for an
end to the anguish.
A hopeless
dreamer…Malon thought. That's exactly me.
Soon she became unaccountably
tired with the day's work weighing down upon her, and she lied down upon the
stable floor on top of the mound of stinking hay and cloth that was her bed. As
she attempted to roll over on her side her action was cut short by her wincing
as the bruises on her arms and neck provided the sudden, dull rush of pain with
which she was all too familiar.
No, she thought bitterly,
I'm nothing but a blind fool.
And she soon began to
drift in and out of sleep, as she usually did; a sleep void of any
dreams, but filled
with an endless darkness.
* * * *
Talon
huffed heavily as the last bale of hay was stacked upon the dozens already
stored inside the barn. Today was not the day for his usual lethargic habits,
oh no, today was a day to work, and work hard. After all, he had some very
important people coming to his ranch that evening, including the princess
herself, and the last thing he wanted was to be shamed by his un-orderly barn
and stables.
A
slight chuckle escaped his mouth as he watched his only daughter scurry around
the ranch like a small bird before a storm. She was definitely looking upon
this impending event with much anticipation, that much was clear, but Talon was
simply at a loss as to what would get her into such a fermented state.
Smiling
to himself, he shook his head as he realized he already knew the answer to that
puzzle. Must be that faerie boy she spends so much time with.
It's funny, he
thought wistfully as he glanced up at the azure sky, one minute she's my
innocent little girl, then I turn around and there she is: all grown up. And
looking more and more like her mother everyday…where does the time go?
Turning
back to his work, he made sure the bales were tightly secured one on top of the
other throughout the entire barn, then, satisfied, spun on his heel and
strolled toward the house. It was almost showtime, and even a simple rancher
had a desire to present himself as neatly as possible before company.
I
guess Malon beat me today, he supposed as he saw her work boots
lying on the floor, carelessly thrown there by obviously zealous hands.
Glancing up the stairs, where sounds of rushing feet and splashing water could
be heard, an anxious look crept into his experienced eyes.
****
Her
hand gingerly clasped her bleeding cheek, the stinging mark left by Ingo's
infuriated fists and leather strap throbbing unbearably. The swollen flesh
surrounding her eye was already foretelling of another black eye, and all this
over a jar of milk.
"If
I ever catch you handing out free samples of my milk ever again I swear to the
goddesses you'll be begging for this kind of pain over the torture I will give
you!" he growled, the bottle in his other hand already half empty. "Now get
back to work, you whore!" he commanded, ending his last comment with a swift
kick to her stomach.
After
the slammed door's banging had ceased, Malon collapsed on the wooden floor of
the stable, hanging onto the edge of the water trough with her shaking hands.
Her limbs were shaking and her eyes were dry. She never cried anymore. Still,
she remained in that position for what seemed like hours. Then a sound she had
come to dread could be heard reverberating throughout the entrance to the
ranch.
It
was the sound of a horse's gallop, followed by the clanking of metal armor.
Hastily,
she stood up, smoothed her hair and dress as best she could, and turned to busy
herself with filling a water pail. She would not let the visitor see her like
this.
The
door to the stable creaked open with the apprehensive approach of the traveler,
who was obviously searching for someone, anyone, who lived on the ranch.
Tentative footsteps drew nearer and nearer to Malon until the stranger was
standing within a few feet of her, at a respectful distance. "Excuse me, miss,"
he began, then stopped as she slowly turned to face him directly.
There's
no point in attempting to hide it, she thought. He'll
see it anyway.
"Are you okay, miss? You look like you've
been…," the young man continued hesitantly.
Her
heat had ceased to beat. Malon couldn't believe what she was seeing; he looked
so good it hurt. His figure was obviously well built and very muscular,
and his blonde hair and deep blue eyes were enough to melt her where she stood.
His manner of dress was a little odd, he was wearing the clothes of a faerie
boy, but his general attitude of concern overwhelmed any second thoughts she
had about his unusual fashion sense. She couldn't remember the last time she
had blushed at simply laying eyes on someone.
"Oh, a visitor! We don't get visitors very
often anymore. Ever since Ganondorf gained control of the Triforce of Power,
all the people have either left town or turned evil. My father owned this
ranch, but Ganondorf threw him out and put Mr. Ingo in charge. If I don't do
what he says, he treats m-…," she faltered as the stranger's gaze narrowed.
"Th- the h-horses so badly…"
Prating on and on was her best defense against
any kind of situation like this one. At least that way, Ingo wouldn't be able
to thrash her too harshly for daring to speak to anyone who happened upon the
ranch.
The traveler's eyes softened in understanding
of her words. "That's a shame. There are some really beautiful…horses here. If
there's anything I can do to help…" he offered gently, taking a step closer to
her.
"Oh, please!" she begged, suddenly overcome
with deep emotion. "Please, rescue Epona from Mr. Ingo. She deserves to be
free…like the wind. She needs…to live…"
A
single tear spilled down her sun-kissed cheek. A tear? Am I…she silently
wondered, stunned.
"I
promise," the young man murmured softly, wiping the trailing wetness from her
cheek with his thumb, "to do whatever I can."
With
that, he smiled gently at her and swept through the stable doors.
A
few hours later, while Malon was on her only ten-minute break, she caught wind
of a frighteningly familiar sound. Ingo was in a rage again.
Hastily,
she took one last drink from the trough and rushed to the stable doors. Just as
she came into the fresh, spring air, she saw a sight that made her heart soar
higher than it had in years.
It
was the green-clothed stranger, and he was riding Epona around the corral.
Ingo
was yelling something about the young man not being able to leave to the ranch
with the horse, and was obviously expecting a great deal of protest. Much to
his, and Malon's, surprise, however, the young man instead turned and trotted away
from the gate. As he turned around, Malon quickly realized what he was going to
attempt and swiftly moved out of the way.
With
one quick command, the stranger had Epona cantering towards the gate. Amazed,
all Ingo could do was watch in bewilderment as the horse sailed over the gate
and landed at a galloping pace on the other side. Malon was overcome with joy;
Epona was finally free! As the young man galloped past her, he smiled
triumphantly at her. Then he was gone.
Thank
you, she rejoiced silently, a salty tear falling from
her face for the second time that day. Thank you…
****
What
do I do with my hair?! she
panicked. I never thought that far ahead! I only have an hour left before
they, he, gets here! Malon was in a fever. This night had to be perfect,
flawless, and her she was with her long, shabby tresses hanging around her like
a horse's mane. There had to be something she could do with it…
Got
it! She silently patted herself on the back and set
to work twisting, looping, and pinning. Fortunately, her mother had shown her
how to style her hair in some very elegant fashions, and her father helped her
remember just how they were composed. Though she wasn't sure how well it would
turn out with only pair of hands to do the work. At the conclusion of the hour,
however, she received her answer, and the final product was well worth the
labor.
Perfect.
She
had managed to braid all of her long, flowing hair into several, tiny braided
portions. After many attempts, and many failures, she had succeeded in pinning
all of the braids together in a single circle near the crown of her head,
leaving a few strands blowing freely about her face. It was a style that was
normally only seen on nobility, but not tonight. Tonight was hers and hers
alone to cherish.
Or
perhaps, if all went well, it would be cherished by herself and another someone
special…
Giggling
with excitement and anxiety, Malon made the final touches to her appearance
and, satisfied with one last look in her mirror, turned and made her way to the
party to welcome the arriving guests.
She
had never been so nervous in her life.
****
It
figures, Malon thought bitterly. A day of joy is always
followed by a night of suffering. Lately, though, it seems the suffering is
outnumbering the joy.
Sighing,
she dipped the rag in cold water again and gingerly applied it to her swollen
face and the cuts on her arms. Tonight had been worse than normal; Ingo's
alcohol propensities combined with his earlier defeat made for an especially
dangerous fist.
Somehow,
according to Ingo, at least, it was her fault that the green-clothed
stranger had won Epona and managed to escape the ranch. "If it wasn't
for you, I would still have that dumb animal to honor Ganondorf with. But you
had to be the whore you are and talk to that guy; you probably told him how to
win against me in the race, you little slut!" he had yelled.
That,
of course, had been emphasized with a barrage of punches, kicks, and even
broken bottles, resulting in the multi-colored, swollen injuries Malon now
confronted in the reflecting water. There was only one thought allowing her to
keep her stoic composure.
At
least Epona is free. Maybe someday, I'll even be able to join her…
"Ha!"
she laughed out right at that last thought. Obviously, the dreamer in her
hadn't been completely beaten down by Ingo. But then again…
Some
people dream of freedom. Others dream of helping people achieve it. I've just
given up hope on the former…and so have become the latter.
****
The
sun was beginning to make its daily descent behind the hillcrests, flooding all
of Hyrule with a golden-rust glow. Gently whispering in his ear, the evening
winds blew calmly across Hyrule Field and carried on towards Gerudo Valley. The
small gurgling creek ran placidly by the bank, splashing a few drops of water
on a pair of brown boots hanging from the edge of a rock. The day had been
perfect.
The
night, however…
Sighing
heavily, Link ran one hand through his blond hair and looked skyward. A flock
of sparrows passed noisily overhead, squawking and flapping in all their
confusion, then passed on. Judging by the position of the fading sun, Link
supposed he should make his way towards Lon Lon Ranch; he was already more than
fashionably late.
And
so, with a wafting, soothing melody on the Ocarina and a swift kick to Epona's
flank, he sped off towards the ranch, all the while wishing his heart would
cease keeping time with Epona's galloping hooves.
I
don't think I've ever been this apprehensive about anything before
he thought with a sigh.
Naryu,
please guide me…
****
Lightning
clashed as rain pounded down upon the little, desolate ranch. Nearly drowned
out by the sounds of the raging fury of the squall, a pair of small feet could
hardly be heard running, tripping, sliding through the mud that now covered the
ground.
The
rain began to fall harder, faster, beating the small young woman to the soaking
earth in the middle of the ranch field. Thunder clapped relentlessly and the
wind whipped her hair around as if it had a life of its own and was trying to
break free.
She
wanted to get away, as far away as she could, from him.
Ingo.
It
wasn't worth it anymore; it wasn't worth the beatings, the berating, the work,
the abuse, both verbally and physically. Life just wasn't worth it.
Especially her life. The storm that night was ironically perfect: it was the
culmination of everything she had kept hidden deep inside the past seven,
almost eight, years, and it had finally shattered and broken free.
Who
am I kidding, she thought bitterly. No one cares about me,
no one even remembers that I'm out here, and father isn't going to come back.
Ever. Besides, I'm just as replaceable as a maimed horse.
Then,
suddenly, she tasted something salty in her mouth. Tears.
She
hadn't even realized she was crying.
Thunder
pounded in the sky as a bolt of lightning streaked the turbulent heavens. It
seemed as if voices from the past and present were haunting her, calling out to
her, with each clap of lightning. This night reminded her of so many nights
past, nights before and during her imprisonment…
"You're
worthless, no good, useless. You'll never amount to anything, wench!"
"Who's
that? Oh, it's just that farm girl…"
"Sorry,
travelers like myself don't associate with your kind. No offense…"
"Stop!"
she screamed, desperately begging the flashing lightning and brewing tempest.
"I don't want to remember those things! I want to forget them!"
"Malon,
remember this song. Whenever you sing it, I'll be right there with you…"
"Mother?"
she whimpered aloud. "Mother, please help me! I don't want to be alone
anymore!"
"Why
are you crying, whore?! Does it hurt?! I'll show you what pain is…"
"…he
treats the…the h-horses…so badly…"
"Why
won't you stop?! Stop it, please! I can't take it anymore!" she yelled in
anguish, grabbing her head and collapsing to the soggy earth as lightning once
again streaked the sky.
"That's
a shame. There are some really beautiful…horses here. If there's anything I can
do to help…"
"What
are you doing, miss? Oh I see. Praying for a miracle, you say? Do you think the
goddesses will answer you?"
The
lighting clashed again, illuminating the sky. A brilliant reflection could be
seen glinting in the momentary brightness: an object enclosed in the white
knuckled grip of her hand.
Her
father's knife…
"Please,
rescue Epona from Mr. Ingo. She deserves to be free… like the wind. She
needs…to live…"
"Keep
wishing girl, 'cuz that's all you're going to be able to do. You'll never be
free. Ever. No one wants a hideous, useless girl like you."
"Please…stop…,"
she cried, her hysteria giving way to sheer desolation and despair.
"This
ranch is all you'll ever have; you were born here, you'll live here, you'll die
here. Pathetic…"
The
sky clapped deafeningly loud and was illuminated once again. She was crying
uncontrollably, helplessly, by now. "I just…" she sobbed, clutching the weapon
in her hand. "I just want the pain to stop…it hurts so…so much…"
A
streak of lightning flashed through the night heavens.
She
raised the knife high above, intending to strike her wrist.
The
blade fell swiftly and sharply down.
Intense
sobbing mixed with the sounds of the storm as she pounded the soaking ground
with her other fist. The knife lay deeply imbedded in the mud, not three
centimeters from her pale wrist. "Why can't I do it?!" she lamented. "WHY?!"
She took up the weapon once again, intending
to fulfill the morbid task this time, when the storm suddenly began to disperse
as quickly as it had come. The clouds dissipated in the rays of the sun, the
wind's howl turned to a whisper once again, and the raindrops ceased their
tyrannical onslaught. Then she heard, or thought she heard, the soft sound of
music drifting on the last tendrils of the fading breeze.
An
Ocarina.
She
began to cry again, but this time, she shed tears of anger, relief, anguish,
happiness, wonder, and failure.
****
Everything
was going wonderfully, perfectly, exquisitely. Almost. There was one small
setback to the evening thus far…
Where
is he?! she wondered, her anxiety not apparent on her
smiling façade.
Everyone,
including the princess, had arrived, and the party was well underway by the
time the moon could be seen rising in the distance. She had scanned the rather
large room for what seemed like every two minutes, searching for that one
grinning face. It was nowhere to be seen.
Dejected,
Malon made her way towards one of the many tables set up outside the barn
beside the crackling bonfire. A slight breeze stirred the treetops, toying with
the tendrils of hair around her face and playing the shadows across her
despondent form. Then, the soft sound of padding footsteps on the grass could
be heard approaching. Probably just someone out for a stroll. It's getting
stuffy in there…she thought, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of
autumn absorb her, entrance her.
"Hey,
Malon! Sorry I'm late."
Her
eyes were open now. Turning slowly to greet the voice she had been longing to
hear all evening, she froze when she saw him. It was like seeing him for the
first time, all grown up, all over again. She was thinking the same thing now
she had been thinking all those years ago.
He
looks so good, it hurts…
It
was then that she realized she had been staring. Snap out of it! "Oh hi,
Faerie Boy! G..glad you could make it!"
He
smiled in return as his best friend walked over and embraced him. Giving her
the once over, he replied, "You look…absolutely…wonderful. I don't think I've
ever seen that dress on you before…"
"That's
because you haven't! But thanks, it was my mother's. And you don't look so bad
yourself there, either," she rejoined, smiling and lightly cuffing him on the
arm.
"Thanks,
I suppose," he answered, grinning. He then turned toward the entrance to the
building and announced, "Well, I guess I better return you to the party!" He
then offered his arm, which she accepted with a slight chuckle, and escorted
her through the doors.
From
the rapid pace of their hearts, however, one would think they had just run the
entire length of Hyrule over and back again.
****
"W…what
happened to you?" his voice, filled with concern for this poor ranch girl
standing in front of him now, managed to choke.
She
froze. She hadn't realized someone had been watching her as she filled the
troughs. It was the morning after the storm, and, like with all gales, it was
calm and peaceful in the wake. Slowly, she lifted her head to greet a pair of
worried azure eyes; eyes she had last seen when Epona had been freed. Almost a
year ago. Has it really been so long?
"You
look like something…someone…" he began, then stopped, the tacit meaning of his
words evident by the way his eyes hardened.
Quickly,
she snapped out of her daze. "N…no! No. I just…last night, with the storm and
all….it was a rough night," she supplied meekly, unable to reveal to him the
true reason for her poor appearance that afternoon. She decided to change the
subject. "So, what brings you back to Lon Lon Ranch?"
His
face visibly faltered at her question. "I…I'm not really sure, actually. I just
felt like I needed to come back, you know, check on things, see how you were
doing…" Great! Now you're rambling. Better say something else before she
gets suspicious. "Epona is really turning out to be a great horse. She's
the fastest animal I think I've ever seen. I wanted to come back and thank you
for giving her to me, as well."
She
chuckled. "I didn't give her to you, you won her and saved her,
remember? I'll never forget that day, when you set her free."
He
smiled in return. "Anything I could do to help," he assured her. "Beautiful
creatures like… her… should never be immured within an inescapable prison," he
whispered, dropping his voice so low she could barely discern his words.
A
quiet silence fell over them, and all that could be heard for the next few
minutes were the sounds of the horses whinnying, stamping their hooves, and the
rustle of the gentle spring breeze against the side of the stables. Then,
suddenly, Malon began to giggle to herself, as if she had remembered some
private joke from long ago.
Needless
to say, Link began regarding her with a quizzical, if not completely confused,
look.
"I
just realized I don't even know you're name. You've done so much for me and
I've never once thanked you by name," she told him, shaking her head at the
silliness of it all. Imagine, knowing him for almost a year now and I still
don't know what to call him by…
"Link,"
he replied softly, then his voice grew. "It's Link. And I don't believe I know
you're name, either."
Now
it was her turn to smile. "Malon. I'm Malon," she returned. Then, eying his
clothing with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "Maybe I'll just start
calling you Faerie Boy. It's much easier to remember, I think…"
His
countenance quickly became one of good-humored indignation. "Now, hold on
there, that's not very nice of you…"
Before
he had a chance to finish his argument, however, she abruptly cut him off at
the sound of a door banging. Ingo was coming to check on her progress.
"Well,
sorry, Faerie Boy, but I think you're going to have to learn to live with it.
I've got to get back to work," she explained, concealing the fear she felt by
waving him away with a grin.
Nodding,
he turned and made his way toward the double doors that lead to the exterior of
the stables, but stopped as she called out to him. "Will I see you again soon?"
she asked hastily, with a barely traceable touch of desperation. "I mean, life
out here can get so lonely with no one to talk to…"
"Tomorrow
sound good?" he answered, flashing her a smile.
Wonderfully
good. "Yes, that sounds great!" she replied with a
little more enthusiasm than necessary.
He
nodded once and opened the door. Before he left, though, he waved and added,
"See you tomorrow then, Malon."
"Goodbye,
Faerie Boy."
And
it was then that she knew she loved him.
****
Once
inside, the blond and redheaded pair did not, could not, stay together for more
than a matter of seconds. As soon as they swept through the great wooden doors,
eager hands, friendly smiles, and buzzing voices pulled them in opposite
directions at once. Malon was ushered toward a group of family friends, while
Link found himself in conversation with one of his very close companions, her
royal highness: Princess Zelda.
The
night was going splendidly for all. The music was intoxicating, the company
gay, and the moon hanging in the darkened sky illuminated the ranch. Soon, to
escape the inevitable stuffiness that eventually engulfed the room, everyone
had moved outside to continue the dancing and fellowship.
In
what seemed to be all too soon a time, however, the festivities were beginning
to draw to the close of a very entertaining evening. Although it had been a
very enjoyable time, and all things good must eventually come to an end, there
was one rather significant problem with the night's approaching
conclusion…
I
haven't been able to tell him yet! No! Malon silently
screamed with tears coming to her green eyes, willing the party to continue for
another few hours but without success. He just arrived an hour ago, and now
it's already almost time to part company…
She
desperately glanced across the room at Link, who was still conversing with the
princess. Suddenly, a new resolve enveloped her as she watched his face break
out into a smile at something Zelda had whispered. Filled with a new sense of
purpose, she gathered all her courage and will power and proceeded to where he
was standing. If the moment won't just present itself without any
manipulation, I guess I'll have to make it present itself.
She
was close, and drawing nearer every second. Then, just as she reached out to
get Link's attention…
"Malon!"
The
sound of her father's voice made her jump, sending her heart beat soaring into
the sky. What now?! "Yes, daddy?" she asked, trying her best to conceal
her vexation at her father's intrusion.
"There
you are! I've been looking all over for you!" exasperated Talon. "We need more
wood for the fire or I'm afraid it will be going out long before our guests are
ready to leave. Would you please go get some wood from the pile?" he explained,
pulling her off to the side of all the chattering.
"But,
daddy, I…" she began, rapidly becoming fearful that her chance to confess her
long-kept secret was diminishing before her very eyes.
A
glare from her father silenced any further protest she was prepared to utilize
in her defense. "Malon, I'm asking you to do one simple favor for me. Now
please, don't make me repeat myself," he replied, his voice firm but gentle.
"Yes,
daddy," she sighed, helpless and defeated. I suppose I can spare a few
moments to gather some wood. What difference is a few minutes going to make? she
reasoned with a heavy heart. No one ever said love was a swift thing…
Nodding
her head in resignation, she slowly made her way towards the far end of the
corral where the wood was kept, her backside illuminated by the warm flames.
But soon the dancing light from the fire had faded from her path, and she was
left in darkness, with only the moon to serve as her lantern.
****
After
that day at the ranch, the Hero of Time, when not battling fearsome enemies or
completing redoubtable tasks, could frequently be found at Lon Lon Ranch in the
company of the beautiful red-haired girl. Day after day, the pair would be seen
wandering together everywhere from Hyrule Field to Kakariko Village, always
deeply engrossed in one conversation or another.
A
year came and went in what seemed to be a day. Acquaintance grew to friendship,
and friendship grew to an inseparable bond between two very lost souls. To the
normal passerby, Malon and Link seemed to be, in every sense, two people who
were destined for each other.
However,
it ran much, much deeper than that.
* * * *
There. I think that's the last piece of wood
he'll be needing for a while, Malon reassured herself, setting the last
medium-sized log on top of a rather large firewood supply. I just hope I
haven't missed my chance…
The music continued to drift sweetly into the
night air as she made her way back to the crowd of people standing outside the
storage building. After informing her father that she had stacked all the wood
near the fire, she began to wander in search of Link, who had seemed to have
disappeared while she had been fulfilling her chore.
A
half an hour later, about ready to cease her search out of sheer frustration,
she turned back towards the voices wafting from the party and rounded the
corner to the house.
And stopped dead in her tracks.
Concealing herself in the shadows created by
the waning moonlight, she once again looked toward the sight. Tears were
forming in her eyes and her suspicions were confirmed as the two figures
shifted position and became clearer in the dim light. Link…
…and Princess Zelda.
The embracing couple did not notice, nor detect
the sounds of, a broken heart shattering and tears of anguish spilling forth as
their lips met in a kiss beneath the blanket of stars.
Malon ran, not to escape the agony of the
scene, but to keep her grief of a crushed love from resounding across Hyrule,
and from reaching the ears of the one she had loved, did love, with all her
soul.
Dreams, and the happiness that accompany them, are simply
not meant to come true for me. Ever.
* * * *
Link,
Please
understand that I had to leave. I cannot tell you where, and I cannot tell you
why. Just trust that I'll be safe. I do not know when I will return, but until
that time does come, just forget about me. Please take care of yourself, and be
happy.
For God's sake, be happy.
Love, Malon
* * * *
When I was a child a story would say
Somebody would sweep you off your feet some day
That's what I hoped would happen with you
More than you could know
I wanted to tell you that my heart's in your hands
I prayed for the day that I would get the chance
But just when I worked up the courage to try
Much to my surprise
You had somebody else
'Cause these feelings I keep to myself
From the moment I wake up 'til I fall asleep
I imagine you not with her but with me
Talking and laughing
Sharing our dreams
It's just a fantasy
'Cause you have somebody else
'Cause these feelings I keep to myself
I may never get to hold you so tight
I may never get to kiss you goodnight
I may never get to look deep in your eyes
Or so it seems
I always will
be wishing
You were mine
I think about what could be all the time
All the happiness that I could find
A girl can dream
© PYT 2001
