Hey guys! Ugh, I know you are probably sick of me editing, but I promise this time that the editing is purely done to ease my mind, and you absolutely do not need to reread it. (I don't own LoZ) Here's a list of what's different:

-Malon's interaction with the tailor is more realistic (I worked in a costume shop this year and after that I realized there needed to be some changes, if only to ease my mind)

-There is no painter interaction now. Instead a little character development and realness(I won't ruin it)

-Added some backstory on her way home.

Again, thank you for reading, and I shall be trying to update more frequently. The changes I made to this chapter aren't significant I suppose but they make me feel better.

Updated 04/26/15

Malon

I tugged on my worn boots with resigned weariness, not looking forward to the day of chores ahead. At Lon Lon Ranch, there was always something to do, whether it was feeding animals or cleaning. Even though having Ingo, our ranch hand, made things a bit easier, work was still plentiful. I loved my father, for he was all I had after my mother left, but he's become worse and worse since then. The night my mother left, rendered him broken. I was very young when it happened, but I remember waking up to hear a door slam, and the next thing I know I'm watching a hooded figure ride off into the night. I remember the rasping sobs of my father. I was just a little girl, I wasn't used to hearing a man cry, let alone my father, and my heart ached for my father. It ached for my mother, and I endlessly wondered why she would ever want to leave. I remember that I had started crying when the final realization that my mother would never come back, hit me, and my father picked me up and cradled me, his tears falling on me, and mine on his rough shirt. I believe that moment was the last earnest embrace I've had with my father. After she left, things got worse. My father's new favorite past time was going to the pub, getting drunk, and then usually getting arrested by the authorities for doing obscene things. He'd get thrown in jail for a few days, and then when he'd sober up he'd trudge his way back home. Of course he always apologized profusely to me, but that never stopped the farm from deteriorating in a state of negligence. Ingo was our saviour.

He was kind and usually worked hard for insufficient compensation, and he only complained every now and then. When we first met him, he had arrived in the dead of the night, sporting grave wounds that dripped blood across our threshold. My father, thank goddesses he had been there, had rode for a doctor, while I had stayed and cleaned him up. After that, he never said a word about that night and we found him the next two mornings cleaning stalls. He was a man of few words and had asked for a place to stay and a job, so my father had no choice but to give him one.

I straightened out my skirt when I stood from my wooden bed, and patted down the balloon of my old, stained cotton blouse. I've had much the same clothes for years, not by choice but rather from practicality. After going hungry several times you learn to reorganize your priorities. I passed the looking glass but then went back to it, seeing my rat's nest of hair. The tangled red locks stood on one side of my head awkwardly, and I snorted unlady-like at myself. Taking the brush, I yanked through the strands of uncooperative hair until I'd tamed it. Satisfied, I opened the door to my bedroom, and walked down the stairs into the kitchen. For some reason, my father's always been overly affectionate towards cuccoos, and I always find that somehow they've made it into the house, along with a trail of feathers and droppings. With irritation I disgracefully shove them out the door, and a din of clucking and flapping of wings ensues.

I grab a swig of milk and head outside to the barn. When I enter the dark and dusty place, the smell of manure wafts to my nostrils. Now you may think me strange, but the odor was strangely relaxing. In fact, not to justify myself here, but I know some doctors use manure for medications, because I saw a vender selling the medicines in town. Although... he may have just been fooling me, and I'm as gullible as they come. Well- it doesn't matter anyway.

The animals in the barn sense that their feeder has come, and the horses nicker softly while the cows shift restlessly. Our sole and only goat, Anne, comes and bumps me on my thigh, insisting that I feed her first. I comply and toss her some stray hay. Some falls in her face, while the rest drifts to the ground. She scolds me but then gets distracted and munches on her hay. Epona, my friend since childhood, neighs in indignance that she should be second. I laugh and pet her soft black nose, drawing her large head closer to mine in an embrace.

"Good morning," I murmur. She snorts and nudges me, reminding me that she's hungry. I smile and give her a flake of alfalfa and fed the rest of the animals as well.

My father would be waking up soon from his alcohol-induced coma, or so I hoped, for the sun was nearly risen, and there was still work to be done. The barn had to be cleaned, as well as the pasture, and not to mention the house. Plus, it was also my birthday. I was turning seventeen today, and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. Supposedly it was my season, in fact long past it, but I'd never had a caller, not to mention a suitor. I never really wanted one though, so it was just as well. It can be said that I'm just intimidating, for I weigh more than most boys or even men, but I'm not fat, and not in the least. I'm simply tall, and I guess the years of living on a farm have well muscled me. I definitely have calluses on my hands, and my feet-well... let's just say I can walk barefoot on burning soil, that's how tough they are. Anyhow, I don't have men running to me and asking for my hand all the time- or I guess ever, unlike Princess Zelda. I'm not jealous of her per say, but I might be a tad bit jealous of the power that comes with that ability. She can get her way whenever she wants, and only with a flick of her hand. She's not a bad person, this Princess, but she is a little bossy, and I suppose that's just because of her lineage.

I had planned on going into town today to get a present for myself. I'd been saving up since a year ago, only taking a couple rupees each time we made profits. It's not that I think my father purposefully forgets my birthday; it's just the way he is. Anyway, I might finally buy myself some new clothes, something a bit more comfortable AND a bit more practical than a skirt for working all day in the heat outside. I decided that the chores could wait; after all, it was my birthday. So, I saddled up Epona after she'd eaten her breakfast and set out for town.

She was as eager as I was to get away from the ranch, and I had to admit, though it was my home I was getting a little claustrophobic. When I reached the edge of town I got down and led Epona across the bridge gate, past the guards and through the crowd of people entering and leaving town. It seemed busy as usual, with vendors being crowded with people demanding lower prices and shoving at others who got in their way. Dogs ran around people, nipping at heels and occasionally receiving a hard kick. The smell of something delicious hung in the air, and the weather was perfect. It was turning out to be a beautiful day for my birthday, and a feeling of happiness welled inside my stomach, fluttering as it rose.

I paid a young boy to take Epona to the stables, telling him I'd find him and skin him alive personally if he stole my horse, just to be on the safe side. He didn't know me, what if I could? I smiled mischievously as the boy sped away with fear in his eyes. I laughed out loud, sort of unceremoniously, and some people turned to look at me, but turned away just as quickly without interest. I strolled through town, stopping every once and awhile to stare and wonder at some bauble or sorts, and continue on aimlessly. I came to a tailor shop, and stepped in.

The place was empty except for a few people; one I assumed was the tailor. Right now, it seemed the tailor was giving out a frustrated vibe, pins and all in his mouth, although I'm not quite sure there weren't pins elsewhere-cough-cough. He whined at the customer in a shrilly voice to stop moving or he'd never get the measures needed for the dress, for it was a girl on the stool. The girl had blonde hair that cascaded in gentle curls down her back and on her shoulders. When she glanced at me when the doorbell tinkled, I saw that her eyes were a startling clear blue, and framed with long thick lashes. I wondered at how she got them that way, it seemed almost unnatural, and I wondered if I could do it too.

The third person, the person next to her but sitting on a chair nearby, was a woman in armor, with white hair gathered tight in a pony tail, though I didn't think she looked that old. In fact, she seemed that she could only be about ten years older than me at the most. She had a stocky frame, muscled and lean, and always silent, seeming to think great things with her dark purple eyes. Her eyes rested on me for a second, and then traveled back to the girl, who for some reason could not stop fidgeting. The tailor cried out in fury, throwing his hands up in the air, as well as the pin he was holding, and huffed at the girl that he was finished.

"I'm sorry I'm just nervous," said the girl worriedly. The tailor sighed and just went back to work.

"Hold still, please princess, only for onemoment, then I'm done, alright?" said the tailor. So she was a princess. Well that explains it. The princess emanated the effort it took to remain still, closing her eyes and being as stiff as a brittle stick. The tailor smiled and stepped away from the princess.

"There! Now I am done," the tailor said condescendingly. The princess jumped down ungracefully, apologized, and paid the tailor generously for his trouble. Leaving the shop, she passed me by like I was invisible. Well what did I expect? She's royalty after all, and I'm only a commoner.

The tailor slumped in his chair with a muffled groan of exacerbation, exhausted with the effort of measuring a princess. I stepped forward, clearing my throat. He looked up as if he hadn't seen or heard me walk in, though I know he had, and stared expectantly. I approached his chair cautiously.

"May I see what clothing you have for sale?" I asked, curtsying if only to be on his good side. He stared, bored at my request.

"I don't have anything that will fit you," he said dismissively. "I would have to mmm-measure you," he said, whimpering at the mention of measurements. He rubbed his brow. "I'm simply just not taking any more requests today."

I stared at him with disbelief. Without thinking I grabbed him by the collar. He squawked as I leaned close and spoke lowly.

"Surely it shouldn't be so hard to find a pair of breeches or a tunic lying around?" Realizing his fear I released my hold on him and brushed him off. I cleared my throat. "It is important to me that I have something today. I'm just looking for something simple. You don't even have to measure me."

He stuttered, "B-but they won't fit!" I waved a hand.

"Makes no difference to me."

He stared at me as if not believing it.

"Well?" I pressured. He scrambled from his chair and limped towards the backroom behind the counter. There were sounds of scuffling and crashing boxes.

"Everything alright?" I asked, concerned. He poked his head out, the few hairs he had flopping onto his forehead.

"Fine. Just give me a moment," he answered sharply. It felt like at least a lifetime had passed as I waited in the silence occasionally accompanied by curses. He finally submerged, sweating and breathing quite raggedly, but sure enough he carried a pair of tan breeches and a maroon cotton tunic. The tunic did seem a bit large, and the breeches were rough and the waistband was questionable but they would do. He set them on the counter, wiping his nose with a forearm and dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

"That will do very nicely. Thank you, " I said. He nodded warily at my praise and held up his hand for me to wait while he searched below the counter for something. He resurfaced with a large satchel.

"For you to carry your clothes."

It looked like it would last a long time. Perhaps it was best. I set my clothes back on the counter, and reached for my pouch. I coughed.

"Sorry for the trouble," I said sheepishly and set a generous hundred rupees on the counter. The tailor graciously nodded and thanked me for my generosity. When I walked out of the shop with my new clothes and a convenient way to carry them, I felt like I had just spent money on something frivolously, and guilt was scratching at my stomach. I had to remember that there was only one day a year where this kind of thing was allowed. I saw him slump in his chair as I walked out the door, the sound of the tinkling doorbell fading from hearing.

There was only the decision of what to do now. My nose picked up odors of sweet, smoking meat, and I decided to follow it. When I got to the cart, it appeared to be a pig roasting slowly on a pit. I licked my lips. Should I indulge myself? I grit my teeth and paid the man tending to it, and in exchange he gave me a large hunk of sweet, flaking meat. I found a drooping tree to sit beneath, and savored each bite. Grease dripped down my arm as I ate and sat cross-legged on the soft ground. Laughter floated through the air as two men and three women kicked around a wooden sphere aimlessly. They looked to be around my age, and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach as one girl with auburn hair turned and saw me. The girl was as sickeningly familiar to me as my own father. Her silly name was Emmaline, and when we were much younger we had spent our days climbing trees and pretending we were fairies. Then she showed her true colors when she stopped hanging around after the night my mother disappeared. Whenever I had tried to talk to her she seemed distant, until one day she flat out ignored me. Suffice to say, we stopped being friends. Now I saw her hiding a smirk beneath her hand and saw her mouth move as she said something to the group. They laughed and strolled away, resuming their game with half-hearted kicks. Heat crept up to my ears. Emmaline glanced behind her, meeting my eyes with her own blue ones. They held a funny look in them, as if she somehow felt sorry for me, but then she broke our gaze and went back to laughing with her friends, as if she hadn't even seen me in the first place. I saw as she hung on one man's arm adoringly, and also saw his indifference. All of sudden, the hole that I was trying to glare into her back softened as I felt sorry for her. It was obvious the man held no affection for her whatsoever, and painfully clear that she was in love with him. I wanted to laugh and grin, and feel better, but somehow I didn't. Knowing she would be as unhappy as I was made the feeling in my stomach twist. I stood, not bothering to dust the mud off my skirt, and threw my bone to the dirt. Let the dogs find it. Hands shaking I picked up my satchel and walked away from the tree and further from Emmaline. I'd seen enough of the town, and it was time to go home.

Already the sun was at it's highest, and a bead of sweat formed on my brow. I headed to the stables that I'd been to frequently, which were just in front of the castle, and just behind the town. The town was no longer as busy as it had been in the morning, with fewer people wandering in the streets. I swiftly walked to where Epona waited for me in her stall. After putting all her tack on I led her out of the stables, where she began to pull on the reigns anxiously.

"Easy, girl." I held her bridle firmly and walked through town again. When I got to the bridge gate, I mounted Epona. Kicking her into a gallop, I took the long way home. It felt good to ride. For a moment, my worries melted away, and the only thing in the world was me, sitting astride her rolling, sweaty back, her snorts and the thunder of her hooves the only sounds worth hearing. The wind was blessedly cool as it whipped through my hair. Hills and trees passed by as we crossed the vast expanse of Hyrule field, and I could see our home on the next rise. It sort of looked like a fortress, with its immense wooden fences that were more like walls with sharpened ends and set atop a huge hill, perhaps the biggest in Hyrule Field. All these years that it's been our home, it's protected us against storms and simple pests of the Field, but now as I looked at it, a sense of disappointment swelled as we neared it. I used to love my home. That was before… before she- ...left. I used to have fun playing and teasing the animals, while my mother tended to them. I remember the time there was a mare giving birth, and it was plain that there was something wrong. I remember seeing blood on the floor, knowing somehow that it wasn't meant to be there. Fear had gripped me and I wailed for my mother. She gathered me to her chest in a quick hug and led me to the heaving mare's head, placing my hand over its eyes. I tried to pull my hand away and escape the mare as it jerked from my touch, but my mother gently placed my hand over its eyes again.

"Shhh," she whispered. The mare quieted for a moment to listen to her, its ears pricking with interest. "Don't be afraid my darling," she had murmured, as if was speaking to both of us. She began to softly sing a lulling melody, and I had gazed with wonder as the mare relaxed and its breathing became normal. As a little girl, I had witnessed the mare miraculously give birth to a beautiful red horse. For the longest time we just watched as the foal and its mother recuperated from its entry into the world. Then the mare stood, and the foal tried to follow it on unstable legs. My mother had smiled when it was finally successful, and said, "There's my strong little Epona," she turned me around, "just like you, my darling." To this day, Epona is not only my horse, but also my friend and the only thing I have to remember my mother. Now the house was just a painful reminder that I was stuck with my father, meant to toil my life away. I wasn't even sure what else I wanted, but I knew that the only time I was at peace within myself was when I was riding Epona.

When Epona came to the ranch's gates, I trotted her up to the stables. Dismounting her, I tied her to a post while I unsaddled her. It took awhile to get everything put away, polished, and cleaned, but years of doing this made the task easier. A few carrots, and a good brush later, Epona and the rest of the animals were fed and watered. Avoiding going inside to see if my father was there or not, I picked up a shovel and I began to muck out the stalls. The simple activity had my muscles working, and it felt good. It wasn't until I got to the last of the stalls when I noticed a stranger's horse tied by the water trough. I leaned the shovel next to the stall and slowly approached the giant horse. It was a beautiful black, with a coat that shined even in the fading sunset. Who ever was its owner obviously took very good care of it. I held out a hand for it to smell. It reached its neck towards my hand, tentatively giving it a sniff before searching it for food. I pet his muzzle, letting my hand slide up his forehead. He rubbed against my hand, making me smile. It seemed to me we had a visitor. Strange. I dropped my hand. The only visitors that ever came were those requiring payments. This couldn't be good.