A/N: An insight into one of Termina's own, and a small conversation at the end of the world. Enjoy!
Before the Midnight Toll
All but a few townsfolk had fled. There was no one to protect, and even had there been, he held no capacity to do so. Never before in his life had he felt such helplessness. As he beheld the silver crust looming in the sky, he knew that not a creature in all of Termina could halt its fatal descent.
Two days ago, Viscen petitioned the mayor to evacuate the city. No one could recall exactly when, but at some indefinite point only days prior, the moon had abandoned its nightly ritual and fixed itself in the sky above Clock Town. Day or night, dawn or dusk, it didn't matter. The lunar sphere looked down upon the land, growing noticeably in the span of only four or five hours. Then the astronomer, in a private letter to city officials, confirmed the people's fears. The moon was on a collision course with Clock Town.
Despite the nearing of the carnival, the safety of Clock Town's citizens took priority. He acted with haste, confronting the issue with all the authority and confidence of his post. He thought that if he could persuade the mayor to order an evacuation, if the citizens took refuge somewhere beyond Termina Field, then surely they could survive the impact, even if the city did not.
He had been naive. No longer could he cling to those delusions. The earth itself quaked and trembled, a reminder to those seeking shelter that they would find none, for none existed. Clock Town was not alone. The major provinces—Snowhead, Woodfall, Ikana, Great Bay—would all undoubtedly be victims just as well. Victims of what force and for what reason, he could not say. All he knew was that the demise of Termina was imminent.
Fate had cast her die, and Viscen couldn't help but feel regret. Where had the time gone? There was so much left to do, so much he had thought possible. And there were probably thousands of others who felt as he did. So many dreams would end tonight. The city suffered the same misfortune, visible in the stark walls, unlit torches, and a bridge that would never be completed. The gears of Clock Town had ceased turning.
The guard grimaced as the clock struck eleven, its peals crying out to the deserted city. An hour from now, the Clock Tower doors would open, and the carnival would officially begin. Only, it would be a carnival without festivities or merrymaking. A celebration without people to celebrate. The town was merely a shell of her former self, and emptiness was all she could offer.
But running would prevent nothing. Most of those who had fled knew this, and the few who stayed likely did too. Everyone had to make a choice, and everyone had their own reasons. Some left out of fear, acknowledging their fate but unwilling to confront it. Some stayed out of love, shrouding the reality from the children, granting them one last night of normalcy. For Viscen, the reason was simple. There were just too many memories born within these walls, too many emotions embedded deep within their mortar. Clock Town was still his home. He would stand here alone, all night if he had to, and await what was to come. Truthfully, there was nowhere else he would rather be.
At some point during his musings, a soft, orange light had emerged nearby and eventually found his attention. Now illuminating the base of the festival tower were two lit torches, separated by a familiar person.
"Mutoh?" the captain whispered incredulously. The man in question, the stout and irritable head of the Carnival Committee, stood in front of his unfinished labor with arms crossed, glaring up at the moon in silence. He's still here?
It was hard to digest. Viscen hadn't seen anybody for the past several hours. There had to be only a handful of people left in town. If anything, he expected to see bachelors or loners or elderly citizens. Someone unable to leave, or someone without close relatives or significant others with whom they could take refuge.
But Mutoh was not that person. As difficult as it was for some to believe, Mutoh was a married man.
His wife's name was Lia, and they had been married for nearly twenty years. Yet the day of their wedding seemed like only yesterday. Friends, family, neighbors, and strangers showed for the occasion, all gathered in the northern park for the joyous ceremony. There was cheering and laughter, and proudly displayed for all to see was the enameled face of the Couple's Mask: the symbol of their promise, the reflection of their love. The crowd waned, and Viscen, only a young man of sixteen at the time, approached and congratulated the two. Not any time before or since had Viscen ever seen a happier man.
These were the memories that rushed to him unbidden, memories of youthful days glimmering with hope, impassioned with the burning of the sun. Days were darker now and had been for some while, but a deeply rooted affection never changed. Mutoh shared such a bond with his wife, and had she been in Clock Town at this moment, their final hours would surely be spent together. But tonight they were apart. Viscen only wished he knew why.
When it became clear that Mutoh was there to stay, Viscen considered joining the carpenter. Maybe the man could use some company tonight.
They could watch the end together.
He had nearly started towards Mutoh when he was interrupted again, his focus drawn to some unexpected movement in an otherwise still town. The light from the torches, just reaching the far side of the town square, revealed another figure. A small person in dark clothes, sitting alone on a bench. A child.
What little comfort Mutoh's presence had brought was dashed to pieces. What parents would leave their kid unattended on a night like this? On a night where friends and family gathered, why was there a single child alone in the streets? The others had absconded with their separate families and caretakers. The orphans were finding shelter at the inn. Even the troublemaking Bombers had taken refuge with the astronomer. Every child had somewhere to be, someone to be with. Except this one.
The choice was simple, and soon his feet were carrying him to the western wall.
The captain had not made it halfway across the plaza when he realized that he knew this child. They had not met formally, but he had seen the boy before. It was at the town council meeting. Although his face had been hidden by the Couple's Mask, he wore a distinctive tunic and large hat, both the same shade of deep green. It was an outfit Viscen recognized easily, because never before had he seen such clothing. The boy was most likely a foreigner, having come to celebrate the annual Carnival of Time as so many did each year.
The boy raised his head at the sound of footsteps and looked at the nearing guard. At this distance, the child was perfectly visible, even in the dim light, and Viscen could see his face for the first time, a blunt reminder of his age. Probably ten or eleven, and certainly no older.
Viscen also noticed the hilt of a blade sticking up just past his left shoulder. He'd been wearing it during the council meeting as well, but at that time Viscen had paid it little regard, too wrapped up in his dispute with Mutoh. The next day, however, several of his guards stationed at the city gates spoke of a boy in green hurrying in and out of town. When asked why they had permitted a mere child beyond the city walls, each affirmed that, as strange as it seemed, the boy was properly armed. By law, they were required to allow passage. Viscen had wondered if this was the same boy he'd seen at the conference, one for whom there was hardly a more identifying trait than the green clothing, and he could guess now that the two boys were indeed the same.
He had originally suspected the boy a foreigner, but now he was certain. Not in Clock Town nor in any of the villages Viscen had visited could children carry swords. Small knives for self-defense, maybe, but not swords. Based on his guards' accounts, it was also safe to reason that the boy was traveling alone. And although it thankfully meant no one had forgotten or abandoned him, it also suggested that he was here tonight with no one at all.
Well, that was something Viscen could fix.
"May I join you?"
Sooner than he expected, the green-clad child answered with a faint smile and a nod, and Viscen took a seat on the bench. Then there was silence again, the boy having returned his gaze to the ground. Momentarily uncertain how to open the conversation, Viscen looked about the plaza, directing his eyes anywhere but towards the rock above.
"I wanted to thank you for what you did at the council meeting," he eventually began. "Arguing was getting us nowhere, and without you, we may have been there all day."
"You're welcome, Captain Viscen," came the quiet reply.
The captain chuckled. "I guess you already know who I am, then. But I'm afraid I don't know your name."
"Link."
"It's nice to meet you, Link." The boy returned the sentiment, but his smile disappeared. Viscen could only assume that his thoughts were on the falling moon.
Keep the conversation going. Give him something else to think about.
"I could tell by your clothing that you're not from around here. If I may ask, what part of Termina are you from?"
But Link shook his head. "This is my first time in Termina. I come from a place called Hyrule."
It was a strange name. One that didn't quite roll off the tongue. There were certainly lands beyond Termina's borders, but he had never heard of this one. Just how far had Link traveled?
"I see." Reluctantly, Viscen asked, "And what brought you to Clock Town? Did you come to see the carnival?" On any year prior, it would have been a harmless question, but tonight, it felt like an apology. Link was aware that the carnival was essentially canceled; of that, Viscen had no doubt. The boy's behavior told him as much. But what bothered Viscen most was that, when asking that question, he had tactlessly employed the past tense, not the present, as if acknowledging that their time in Clock Town was at an end. Because truthfully, it was. But it seemed to him that Link knew that too.
It took several moments before Link answered. "I was looking for my friend."
Another tremor racked the city, its low rumble piercing the emptiness, and Link tensed and stared up at the intruding moon. Yet so unlike the common reaction from one his age, his face revealed no panic or despair. Slight anxiety, perhaps, but there was something more curious in those eyes, and Viscen could not say if it was apathy or acceptance or something else entirely.
"I'm sorry," the captain said at length. "I wish your stay had been under better circumstances."
Defying all expectations, neither feigned nor forced, a smile accompanied Link's response. "You don't have to apologize. I enjoyed seeing Termina, and I met so many great people." He looked again at the moon. "I'm glad I was here."
Viscen found nothing to add, content to linger on the boy's words. Link was only a child, yet he recognized the falling moon and understood its meaning as well as any adult. And somehow, in the face of death, he found something to be thankful for. You could learn something from him.
Suddenly, a harsh yell erupted from beside the festival tower. "Go on, fall! What's stoppin' ya, you monster?" Mutoh shouted with anger bordering on hysterics, his tirade proceeding with a steady crescendo. "You got what you wanted. Everyone's gone. The festival's canceled. What are you waiting for? If you're gonna fall, then fall already!"
The guard hung his head in sympathy for both the angry carpenter and the young boy beside him. As hard as he tried to ignore the approaching moon, to steer the conversation to lighter topics, it seemed entirely for naught.
"That's Mutoh. You might remember him from the meeting." The boy nodded. Viscen supposed that meant that Link knew about his position on the Carnival Committee. "He's earned himself a reputation for being stubborn and quick-tempered. Not exactly the most open-minded person either. But he's still a good man. A friend of mine, even. I hate seeing him this upset."
"He's afraid," Link said, and Viscen found that he couldn't argue. Link was right. Fear had fueled that outburst. Anger was simply Mutoh's coping mechanism. But Link had more to say, and his next question caught the guard unprepared. "Are you afraid, Captain Viscen?"
Viscen was tempted to use the consoling response he might give to any other boy or girl. Then he thought better. This wasn't a child seeking comfort from an intrepid elder. He could tell as much from his tone. Link wanted an honest answer.
Viscen reflected on the question in silence. Was he afraid? He cringed every time the earth shook, and he purposely avoided looking at the moon. The signs were there. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, to convince himself that he had already accepted this tragedy, he couldn't deny what he felt.
"I am. What about you, Link?"
Link gave a small nod. At this point, he was no longer watching Mutoh or gazing at the moon, only staring off into space. Yet to Viscen's surprise, he shared his thoughts. "My friend once told me that fear isn't a weakness. By accepting our fears, we accept our limitations, and we grow stronger."
"Your friend must be very wise."
Link smiled. "She is."
Although he was curious to know if this was the same friend mentioned earlier, Viscen said nothing more on the subject. Leave him his memories of better times, he told himself. He could even follow Link's example. For a moment, the guard recalled his own friends and mentors. As the end drifted ever closer, there was still solace to be found.
"Captain Viscen?"
The man looked at Link, whose eyes were now trained on the ground. "Yes, Link?"
The boy seemed hesitant to speak, and Viscen wondered if Link's courage would leave him before he said whatever was on his mind. But that was not the case, for Link eventually continued in the hushed manner that seemed his nature. "What if, tomorrow, things went back to normal? Would there still be a carnival?"
Given their earlier exchange, Viscen knew that Link couldn't possibly have faith in such an outcome. He was merely reflecting on what could have been. So Viscen played along. What harm was there in allowing the kid to dream?
"I imagine so," Viscen said. "The carnival tradition is several centuries old. It's the town's favorite celebration, and people come from all around Termina to join us."
"Would you be there too?"
"I would. For the past few years I've been tending to game booths for the children." With a nostalgic smile, he added, "When I see them enjoying the festival, it reminds me of when I was their age. What about you, Link? Would you be attending?"
Link shook his head. "I can't stay. I have to find my friend."
The captain was moved by Link's tenacity. How often did the boy's thoughts return to his companion? How far would he have gone that they might be reunited?
It was always difficult to remember those you would never see again. The captain himself knew the heartache of loss all too well. He had once known several close friends, most of whom had, by terrible happenstance, passed in their youth. So Viscen was familiar with grief. The pain never faded completely. Link, on the other hand, did not even have time to comfort him. He was burdened with the knowledge that he could never complete his journey. The moon would fall, taking with it any chance of finding his unnamed friend.
This dying world had no mercy, even for a child.
They sat together for several minutes, Viscen wishing he could do more for the boy beside him. Then, as the midnight hour neared, he remembered the fireworks. A cold comfort, but maybe Link would enjoy those. One final display in defiance of the end.
It was an airy, lyrical voice that broke the quiet.
"Is it time?"
Viscen turned to locate the source, not finding anyone else nearby until he noticed a yellow figure peeking out from the brim of Link's hat. Is that . . . ? He looked on mystified as the diminutive creature freed herself from the cap and proceeded to hover about the boy's shoulders.
A fairy had joined them. Or more accurately, she had apparently been here all along.
The captain marveled at the scene before him. Fairies were always rumored to be a secretive, mysterious race. What were the chances that, on his last day, he would be granted the sight of one? And perhaps even more strangely, why would one be hiding in the cap of a child? The logical answer was that the two were friends or acquaintances of some sort, but even that seemed to contradict everything he thought he knew.
"Oh," the fairy said when she noticed his presence. "Hey there, Viscen. I mean, it is Viscen, right?"
He wondered if he should be surprised that, just as Link did, she knew his name before they had been introduced. She could have easily overheard, after all, but the attempt to correct herself was still amusing. "That's right. And you are?"
She flew near, approaching him so he could see her clearly, and then bobbed once in the air. "Tatl." She then returned to Link, floating up and down in steady oscillation.
He was talking to a fairy. The night could not become any stranger. "Good evening, Tatl."
"If you say so, Viscen," she whispered. She then glanced between him and Link, and despite her tiny features, Viscen could discern the look of growing confusion. Her tone lightened. "Did I miss something?" She had directed her question at Link, but when he shook his head, she turned towards Viscen, as if to receive a second opinion.
The guard spoke honestly, not sure what Tatl wanted to hear. "Link and I were just discussing the carnival."
He could hear the smile in her next words. "Wait a second. Link was talking? Voluntarily? Guess the world really is ending." When she caught Link's expression, the fairy snickered. "Lighten up, kid. It was a joke." The boy shook his head in exasperation, but Viscen could see him smiling.
Link glanced at the Clock Tower before looking back at the fairy. A moment later, he nodded and rose to his feet, and Tatl turned around to face Viscen once more. "Anyway," she said, "it was nice seeing you again, but we have to be going. Come on, Link." She then flew over in the direction of the laundry pool, stopping just short of the corner.
Link didn't follow immediately. He waited beside Viscen, his gaze flitting between him and the ground. Eventually, he steadied himself and looked up. His eyes shone with twisting flames of emotion, whispering truths and experiences that Viscen would never know.
"Thank you, Captain Viscen. For everything."
With a forlorn smile, the captain bid farewell. "Goodbye, Link."
The boy bowed his head and took off running after the fairy. And then they were gone.
The town was newly still and desolate, and minutes passed in lonely silence. Mutoh hadn't moved from his place near the festival tower. A stray dog slept against an empty stall, unconcerned with its fate. A solitary Deku Scrub came and went.
Before long, it was finally midnight.
The Clock Tower chimed, heralding the beginning and the end. Fireworks flared and burst in the sky, and a multitude of colors cast their glow upon the great obelisk. Then came the groaning of gears as unseen mechanisms lifted the tower's cap and clock faces higher, carried on a large wooden shaft. When the boulder reached its peak, the support tumbled sideways, stopping flat with a resounding thud and reorienting the southern face. The doors to the Clock Tower opened, and a final round of fireworks went off, a hundred explosions or more drowning out the rattle of another earthquake.
The Carnival of Time had begun.
Viscen stood and renewed his walk to the festival tower. Mutoh soon noticed him and nodded, an invitation of sorts. But they both stilled and listened when the notes of a mystic cadence, nowhere diminished or obscured, played on the winds and carried to the far corners of the world.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback welcome. If you enjoyed this, you may also like my other Majora's Mask story, "The Final Days of Second Chances." Thank you again, and keep an eye on more to come.