I do not own Legend of Zelda

History, His Story

"I have witnessed the softening of the hardest of hearts by a simple smile" - Goldie Hawn

The first time I saw Link was sophomore year of high school. He was the quiet kid in the corner who always had a smile ready for anyone who cared to talk to him. I was the daddy's little princess in the front row who always had a friend on each side and two behind. We shared the same math class and sat on opposite sides of the room. I didn't notice him until February when I had broken my last pencil and was forced to walk back to where the pencil sharpener was, bumping into his desk quite soundly by accident (I wasn't overweight by any sense of the word but it was a tight fit back there) and in response to my hasty apology he smiled softly and told me not to worry about it. Distractedly, I noted that he had a nice smile. But I walked away a minute later, and that was the end of that. We didn't speak again until senior year.

Not that Link was shunned or a loner or anything like that. We simply lived in very different worlds. He had his friends and I had mine (though admittedly he had a little group and I had a crowd). I was never wanting when it came to attention, so of course there was no need to befriend a guy who'd never voluntarily made any effort to seek me out.

We shared a class again during that last year of high school. By some unfortunate twist of events, I ended up with only two friends in that class. Probably because it was advanced, college-level ancient history, a topic which by itself was intimidating enough but that in a college-prep class was absolutely repulsive to any sane high-school student.

I, it must be said, was not one of those sane students. I had - and still have - an inexplicable love for history and an uncanny knack for it as bonus. Which explained my presence in that class of fifteen students (out of a senior class of one thousand).

As someone who had been surrounded by familiar faces in every class since kindergarten, it was somewhat of a shock to be among mostly strangers, and I was very thankful for my friends Malon and Midna (both fellow history fanatics - I will resist here usage of the word "nerd").

In a class of fifteen it was hardly possible to resist getting to know all your classmates at least acceptably well. I actually didn't recognize Link at first. In sophomore year he had been shorter than I, a scrawny, pre-pubescent boy with short dark-blonde russet hair wearing too-big clothing. The last two years had been wonderfully good to him. He now stood comfortably a head taller than me, his hair had been grown out into a stylishly-messy style. Somewhere along the way he'd pierced his ears and now wore blue earrings that matched his cobalt-blue eyes. His body had filled out as well - while not stunningly muscular, he was firm and strong and lean. The one thing that hadn't changed - the one thing that made me recognize the boy in the back corner of the math classroom - was his smile.

The majority of the class (ten of fifteen) was girls, and of the five guys Link was largely considered the most attractive one. Which led logically to him getting most of the female attention. But from day one he made it clear that he wasn't interested - not that he said anything outright, but there was something about his easy-going character, his polite responses and calm voice that said not one of them would get anything even resembling a date from Link Forester.

Early on, the teacher paired us up randomly into groups. Largely against the laws of probability, I got into a group with two guys. There were grumbles (mostly from the girls though the boys also threw some dirty looks) but the decision was made and these groups were to last us until the end of the year, culminating into a large-scale group project that would require a ridiculous amount of time spent with one's group-mates. Given that, it was no wonder the others were jealous. I had not only gotten Link as a partner, I had also gotten Sheik Sitkah, a close second in the attractiveness contest (and, apparently, one of Link's best friends. From the way they shared a mischievous look when we had our first group meeting, I had to wonder about foul play, though I still have no idea how they'd done it).

My classmates could be jealous all they wanted; I, for one, was not sure the group thing was good for me. I was stuck with two guys I didn't know, had no idea if they were slackers or not, and, armed with a stereotype against all members of the male species, could only assume the worst-case scenario where I would be stuck with all the work.

Thankfully, I was soon proven wrong. As it turned out, my group was indisputably more knowledgeable about ancient history than any of the others, and only a fair portion of the credit went to me. Link and Sheik treated me fairly, as friend more than anything else, and since we spent so much time together as a group, I began to get sucked in to their world.

I still had my friends, of course, but now I met theirs. We exchanged greetings candidly in the halls, though that did inspire some weird looks from my crowd. Theirs was a close-knit group that happily opened up to welcome me in, and for the first time I realized that they were different, these people, that they had something largely missing from amongst my crowd of acquaintances, something I only got with the two or three friends closest to me.

In the beginning, we did all the group work at my house. It was the logical choice. After all, I had the largest place and an endless assortment of snacks. From time to time, my friends or theirs would drop by, and the work session would turn spontaneously into a social event. But somehow, despite random interruptions, we always got done, and those months were some of the happiest of my life.

After winter break, we started to alternate my house with Sheik's, due to the fact that my place had been turned almost overnight into my father's company's headquarters when their old building had accidentally been burned down the day after Christmas by a couple of drunk partiers. Luckily, they had most of the information backed up, but until they got a permanent place again my house would be overflowing with executives, interns, and secretaries.

Sheik lived in a modest house with his aunt, and Link seemed to know the place like it was his own. When we were there, it was rare that one of their friends wouldn't stop by for at least a chat. It was around this time that I noticed something. Link never stayed out past six, no matter what social plans we would make for the night or the weekend or how many invitations I would extend him. I say "I" and not "we" because Sheik and the others would never ask him to come along except for a few daytime weekend activities - it was as if they knew better, as if they knew he would always decline with a polite reply and that smile of his.

One day in early may, three weeks before our big final was due, we were finally at loss for a place to work. It was a Sunday afternoon and the library was closed. My house was being used for a business party, and Sheik's aunt had planned a baby shower for her friend months ago.

It finally gave me a chance to voice a question that had been nagging at me for a while now. Quite blatantly, I asked Link why he never offered to open his house up for us to use.

Later, I would regret my tone (accusatory) and my words (inconsiderate). I would ask myself how I could say such things to the nicest guy I could ever hope to meet, a guy who'd come to be one of my best friends. But at that moment, I was a little vexed. The project was due too soon, and we had too much to do. College entrance letters had been grating on my nerves since April. The last thing I needed was a wasted afternoon because we had no place to work.

I didn't notice how Sheik suddenly stiffened at my words, looking at his friend hesitantly. It was only when Link tried to smile that I knew something was a bit off. In his usual politeness, he only apologized that he didn't think his house was really suitable for the task.

I told him that if the place had a roof, a table, and water, it would have to do.

Sheik seemed to be struggling to come up with a way out for his friend, but there was no where else to go. He could only walk along, shoulder-to-shoulder with Link in a type of physical support, as we turned and headed for the nearest bus stop.

I was surprised when we boarded route 5. That was the bus headed towards downtown. In time, we left behind the high-class suburb where I lived and entered the shadier world of the city.

We got off at a stop just outside the metropolitan area. I felt out of place in my white knit blouse and skirt. As if they knew how I felt, Link and Sheik got on either side of me protectively, and I drew comfort from their presence, all the while wondering what on earth we were doing here.

We made our way to a group of condos that had seen much better days. The brick walls were covered with graffiti and one or two locks were obviously broken. Link walked up to the third condo on the left and took out a key to unlock the door. I began to wonder futilely what I had gotten us into, almost refusing to believe that Link would live in such a squalid place. We walked to the third floor, and in front of the door was a small shoe case filled and overflowing with shoes of all sizes.

Link picked another key to open this door, and the sound of many voices immediately floated out.

We walked in, and I found myself looking at a small, homey living room. The kitchen was separated only by a small island, and a short hallway led to the bathroom and bedrooms. All around a small living room table sat a group of kids, ranging in size and age from four years old to fourteen. They looked up from their card game when we entered, and immediately broke into smiles and greetings.

"Link! Link, you're back, why are you home early? You brought friends? Are you guys done with work? Will you take us out for ice-cream?" They seemed to know Sheik, the younger ones badgering him for candy and games, the older ones too dignified to ask outright but wearing hopeful expressions. They were shy with me, though, hanging back and asking questions. A little girl looked me up and down before tugging on Link's jeans.

"Link, is she a princess? She's pretty. She looks like a princess."I blushed and Link laughed while Sheik knelt down in front of the girl, smirking as he said to her that this stranger was indeed a princess and would she like it if the rich Princess gave her some money for ice-cream?

The girl nodded vigorously while the others began clamoring for the same treat. Link started to protest and I was stuck wondering what had just happened.

"Don't be stingy, Princess," Sheik chided with that infuriating smirk still on his face, and somehow he managed to get twenty bucks from me which he gave to the oldest of the children, an almost-teenager boy who, after stern instructions from Link to be careful and keep watch on the younger ones, led the group of six out the door towards the ice-cream shop around the corner.

Sheik looked pleased with himself, saying that now we had two hours to work and that we better get on it if we wanted to finish before the rugrats came back. Link merely rolled his eyes, cleared the table of the abandoned card game, and asked me if I wanted some water, at which Sheik scolded him for being too nice and formal.

And so, with me still slightly shaken and confused about what had just happened, we got down to work. Somehow, every time I tried to ask why the group of kids had been here in the first place, my intentions were thwarted.

Two hours dried up surprisingly quickly, and before I knew it the kids were back. They carried three soft-serve cones with them, which they offered to Link, Sheik, and "the nice princess."

Sheik thanked them and made it clear that we were about to leave. The younger kids whined and begged him to stay, but he replied that tomorrow they had school and shouldn't they be doing homework now?

"Will you stay, Princess?"

"Princess has work, too." So saying, he all but dragged me out the door, turning around to give Link a quick wave before heading down the stairs.

It was only when we were back on the bus that he apologized for so hastily rushing me off, explaining that the kids got crazy when visitors came over, and it was hard enough for Link to handle them all without the added excitement.

I asked them who they were, and he simply replied that there were Link's younger siblings. I protested that none of them looked anything alike. He gave me a critical look before informing me that I was too perspective.

"Tell me."

So he did.

He told me that Link was an orphan, had grown up in the foster care system after being placed there at birth. He was six by the time people realized his parents had died and weren't coming back for him.

He told me that my friend had been through the darkest, scariest things a child could ever go through and had survived. He told me that the nicest guy I knew had once been terribly angry and bitter at the world. He told me that my best friend had had to fight his way back to reality, struggle to find a reason to keep living, and had found it in the children who looked up to him and called him big brother.

He told me that Link was now months away from becoming a legal adult and being required to live on his own, but had neither the desire nor the means to do so.

He told me, voice low, that Link was probably the guy he admired most, the one person he'd give anything to help even though he had almost nothing to give except his friendship.

I told him, after a solemn silence in which I absorbed all this, that his friendship may have saved Link's life.

Three weeks later, we turned our project in. A week after that, we received our 'A' grade. In two weeks more, we graduated.

I declined all the invitations to numerous grad-night parties, opting instead to spend the night with Link and his friends. Link had reluctantly agreed to take the night away from home (Sheik had told me that his current foster-parents, though often busy with work, actually cared a lot for the kids and had wholeheartedly urged Link to go out, promising they would be okay in watching the kids for one night).

Of all places, we spontaneously decided to go bowling. Six teenagers (Malon joined us), the girls in dresses, the guys in dress-pants, walked into the bowling alley and didn't give a care for what anyone else thought of us.

Later that night, when the others were caught up in a huge whipped-cream fight that would end up getting us kicked out of the alley, I sat down and asked Link (who stayed away from the fight because he was borrowing his guardian's formal clothes) why he did it - always taking care of those kids, spending every minute of free time he had on them instead of himself even though I couldn't think of anyone else who so deserved to be selfish once in a while.

He looked at me and smiled that smile. The one he still wears often, the one that would get me to one day fall in love with him.

"Because once upon a time, someone saw a lost and terrified little boy and had the desire to smile for him. And little did she know, her smile saved that boy's life."

He told me the story of this little boy, who had grown up and gone on to save others. A bittersweet coming-of-age story. The story of the man who is now my husband.

Because Zelink is too cute to resist, even for a diehard MidnaxLink fan as myself.

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