Author's Note: This fic is the length it is because I was equally interested in developing material to fill gaps within the plot of Ocarina of Time and in Link and Sheik's relationship. I also attempted to describe the characters with some measure of realism, e.g., red eyes were changed to coppery-brown. Hope that's ok with you all.
Also please note that "Tallyn" is Sheik's adopted name in this story. Why? You'll have to read to find out!
Enjoy!
LINK
Link reached the summit of the rocky hills and gazed out across the plains below. A light summer drizzle dampened his hot skin and dusty travel garb, intensifying the smells of the horse, his perspiration, and the fertile earth below him. He blinked away droplets and noticed that the grass was becoming fuller, and leafy deciduous trees were beginning to speckle the landscape between the lean, spiny trees of the northwestern hillside.
His mind was clouded with anxiety and doubt regarding his reasons for returning to Hyrule. He felt both foolish and relieved to drop the fragments of his new life and return at the princess's request. He fingered the curled letter in his breast pocket absently as he descended the steep hill on horseback.
Link sat back in the saddle and thought about the last time he was in Hyrule. Seven years ago, he had had the strange experience of sleeping away his adolescence and awakening in a time parallel to the present, suddenly strong enough to depose the evil that invaded the land. Once he had killed Ganondorf, the usurper king, Link was sent back seven years to this time where he awoke again as a boy, filled with the undeveloped, premature memories of time spent as a man.
Though Link had destroyed Hyrule's enemy in another time, the rogue king from the west continued to spread his poison in the capitol. Through a secret plot between Link, Princess Zelda, and the kingsguard, Ganondorf was arrested in the act of staging a coup, and was later sentenced to death. Still a boy, Link was rewarded with knighthood and significant riches, but he refused it all, choosing instead to travel to faraway lands in search of new skills and purpose.
Link wandered. As he was marked in this life with unusual courage, anachronism, and preference by the gods, he tumbled in and out of parallel dimensions and impossibly far regions of the world not yet explored, training with swordsmen in the east, and apprenticing to leatherworkers and blacksmiths by the sea. He found his way to a remote mountain village on his native continent not long ago where he studied under a master of healing arts who was distantly descended from the Sheikahs of Hyrule.
While sitting on the steps of the mountain shrine on a cold morning in Olous, a falcon with a letter tied to its leg swooped down and attached itself painfully to Link's arm. Overcoming his initial alarm, he unraveled the letter and read the familiar, tidy scrawl three times, and then leaned heavily back against the wood post. The letter was from Zelda, and the request was strange, and seemingly trivial.
Dear Link,
I have been sending you letters for two years with no success in reaching you, yet I am sure you are alive. If you receive this letter, please write to me immediately to let me know that you are safe.
My request is not a desperate one, as life in Hyrule is peaceful, but it is of the utmost importance. I am writing to entreat you to return home to Hyrule to chronicle your memories from the Other Time, so that they may be recorded and preserved for future generations.
I hope that you will return rather than remain in willful exile, as the imprint of the Other Time still echoes through the temples and in the dreams of the sages.
Z.
Link was now only a few hours from Kakariko Village, but the afternoon was quickly turning to dusk. He had responded to the princess soon after receiving her letter assuring her that he was safe and would travel to Hyrule, which quickly prompted a formal invitation from Zelda to stay at the castle, which he politely declined. He was sure that such a visit and extended stay would produce chatter, and would not be without fanfare. She sent him a third letter while he was on the road inviting him to stay instead at her attendant Impa's unoccupied home in the village, which he felt more at ease to accept.
Link could not remember how he felt about the princess. He thought he might love her, but could not pinpoint why, nor could he even recall what she looked like very clearly. She shifted in his mind between a naïve, mischievous girl, a solemn, war-torn sage, and, somehow, Sheik.
As he drew nearer, the tall grass brushed by his legs and his thoughts drifted to those he had once loved, friends scattered across Hyrule in the forest, mountains, the river's mouth, across the plains. He wondered how much they remembered, if anything, of the Other Time, or if they only glimpsed it in dreams as the princess suggested. Were the lives that the sages returned to the ones they were actually destined to live, or were they too living an easy, proxy-existence, their true purpose being already realized and fulfilled in another time?
Link reached the village when it was dark and found it difficult to determine the extent of its development since he had been away. It appeared to have sprawled across the neighboring fields and woods, and he struggled to locate Impa's house—the roads he remembered were either gone, or widened and twisted beyond recognition.
He led his horse Epona to the tiny stable behind the house and was surprised to see that water and feed had been thoughtfully laid out for their arrival. Entering the house, he found fresh bread and stewed vegetables waiting for him in the hearth and water heating by the basin in the washroom. He ate quickly, delighted to have a hot meal, and modestly stripped down for a bath. He stood over the drain for a moment and scrubbed the dirt from his neck and arms, regarding the moon through the window, before filling the basin and immersing himself into the hot water. He sighed deeply and drew the soap languidly across his long torso and limbs, thinking all the while about when he might visit Zelda, and how different she might be from what he remembered. He wondered too how he might be received, being so different, he felt, from the blond, willowy, virginal iteration of himself that emerged from the Sacred Realm, untouched by the sun or conflict. Instead, he was stronger, more rugged and scarred, with the markings of hard sword training, and a leanness about him from a long illness. His eyes were steelier and calmer, and his hair was longer, fastened back in a short bundle, unbleached from living in a colder climate. The only mark he carried from his other existence was the faint Triforce symbol on his hand that he kept covered with a cloth.
The cooling water woke him with a chill as he began to doze. Link stepped out of the tub and dried himself, and feeling averse to dressing, he climbed right into the crisp, clean sheets on the bed on the second floor, and went directly to sleep.
Link woke early, dressed with care, and groomed Epona before setting off for the castle, about an hour's ride away. He was shocked at how much the Castletown had flourished, and lost his way once or twice in the busy roads filled with travelers, merchants, and citizens going about their daily work. It was early yet. Following a whim, he rode down a familiar side road and dismounted in front of the Temple of Time.
Inside, he found the temple vacant except for one worshiper lighting candles. Link crossed the long nave, ascended the stairs beyond the altar, beyond where most people go, and entered the far apse.
He drew in a breath as he glimpsed the Master Sword for the first time in many years. He was filled with the sensation of finding something he had lost long ago, and gazed at the sword through the long beams of light that struck the blade and illuminated the tiny dust particles in the air. Link approached the sword and bent down to examine it, taking in every detail and comparing it against his memory. The linen wrappings still humbly adorned the sword's hilt, a bit grayer in color, but otherwise intact and much the same as he remembered. He carefully touched the blade and filleted hilt, and then ran his fingers over the delicate fragments of linen.
He could no longer avoid thinking of Sheik.
Link allowed his memories to completely overtake him. They flashed before his eyes, combining, distorting, and exaggerating interactions, until they abruptly halted and there was only Zelda, here in this very temple, at the moment when the Sheikah disguise melted away and the blue synthetic fabric and linen wrappings fell to the floor, catching against her dress, crumpling, disappearing.
He was aware that the bit of fabric before him was an artifact from a time that was prevented, from a person who never really existed, and yet Link could touch it. He was struck for the first time by the absurdity, the impossibility of Sheik's desert wrappings existing when he had watched them disappear, and allowed himself to become concerned for a moment about the consequences of having taken an object, real or imagined, from one world to another. The longer he stood there, the more Link began to desire to pull the blade out, to see if it still accepted him, or to see if Time would tear apart upon removing the suture that held it together.
He shook off those thoughts and left the temple and headed toward the castle. The path grew quieter as he rode north and he soon reached the gates that he had so often scaled as a child. He gave his name to the guard and was escorted at once to the stables and then to one of the smaller gardens within the courtyard.
Her back was to him, but he knew that she sensed his presence, as he saw her shoulders tighten in anticipation. She turned slowly, with the trace of a smile in her cheeks, and stood to meet him.
"My dear friend," she said.
Link knelt and Zelda held out her left hand, which he ignored, and instead took her right hand and kissed it fondly. His eyes lingered on the Triforce mark she bore on her hand. She touched his face and bade him to stand.
"Princess," he replied.
She took his hand in hers and led him down a path between beds of tall flowers.
"How you've changed," she said when they were alone.
"You've not changed at all."
Link offered her his arm while they walked, which she took gladly.
"Where have you disappeared to these last seven years?" she asked.
"To the ends of the earth," he replied.
"I suspected as much. I hope you will tell me some stories about where you've been and what you've been doing."
Link gazed out across the lawn and listed the far off lands he had visited and various occupations he had pursued. He told her about how he had trained as a fighter in warrior camps in the east, crossed the sea twice, studied healing, and learned to bake bread. His adventures delighted her, and he smiled when she threw her head back in laughter, insisting that he was lying, and begging him to tell her more.
Though she looked much the same, Link observed a sort of lightness of presence in her that he did not recall from the Other Time. Her skin glowed, her gestures were whimsical, and her smile was lighthearted and genuine. He imagined that this was what Zelda must be like without the fate of the realm weighing so heavily upon her shoulders.
"And what have you been doing since we last saw each other?" he asked.
"Ah," said Zelda, catching her breath, "If I were to tell you, I'm afraid you would die of boredom. Very well! I will tell you all the same. I spent years learning how to be a lady—to dance, embroider, play music (horrid things!), and more recently, how to be a ruler. I've been studying history and maps and all of the legends of Hyrule's peoples. That's when I began to wonder about how those strange and terrible events from a time parallel to ours could be recorded for those in this world." She lifted her eyes to his. "I thought that you, the key to these two worlds, would be the only one who could possibly write it."
Link was quiet for a moment. "You know far more about it, though—about the sages, about how Time split into two… in fact, you know more about everything that happened."
"That is not true. I know nothing of the trials you faced, or the things you saw."
"But you do—you were there with me at every step."
Zelda looked at him, her eyes conflicted. "You are very kind," she said, "but truly, I was not."
Link paused again. "But Sheik was; surely you remember, in some way?"
She shook her head. "No. It was not until the very end that I met you in disguise. Sheik was one of the last of the Sheikahs, sworn to my family."
Link looked at her dumbstruck.
"Yes… Sheik was like a brother to me. In the Other Time, we grew up in hiding together with Impa in the mountains of M. I gave him my lyre and appointed him as the Royal Messenger, for whom you were often mistaken." Her eyes glanced up at him and then flitted away.
Link was suddenly embarrassed, as his mind raced through past conversations, trying to remember or recognize anything akin to what the princess was telling him. He felt uneasy, as if he had not known Zelda nearly as well as he thought, and that everything he had rationalized about Sheik was false. Sensing his sudden bewilderment, Zelda led him to a bench and sat down beside him.
"Where were you then?" he asked.
"I was in M." she said in a soft voice.
Link shook his head. "I'm sorry. How stupid I am. I thought it was you."
She caressed his hand.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
Zelda unbuckled his left gauntlet and slid it off. She grasped his hand with hers and threaded her fingers between his. Immediately, a powerful feeling of warmth and calm overtook Link. He raised his eyes to the princess and found that she too looked calm, if not sad.
"Because I felt I had to. But it doesn't matter now, Link. It's over."
He continued gazing at her, wondering who Sheik really was, wondering who she really was, while continuing to feel calm and still. Zelda looked away.
"It feels nice," he said.
"Of course it does—they are resonating."
"The last time I felt this was—"
"I know. They long to be together."
Link nodded slowly.
"But they are the very reason we can not ever be," she added.
"Why is that?" asked Link.
She pulled her hand away and stood up, and began making her way back into the courtyard.
"You know why."
Link picked up his gauntlet and lingered a moment longer before following.
"So I am to chronicle my story."
She smiled. "Yes. You have full access to any book in the castle's collection, in the town library, in Kakariko, anywhere. What ever you need, you shall have."
"You said the sages are dreaming of the Other Time?"
"Yes…" she paused. "I am not sure how helpful they will be, but Impa is having dreams and déjà vus—though she assures me they are nothing. But you will find that the temples may still hold some memory of the past that Time has forgotten."
They returned to where the princess had first been sitting. On the table were two books; she picked up the smaller volume and placed it in Link's hands.
"This book contains everything that I remember about what happened. I hope it will be helpful to you."
"Thank you," he replied, glancing down at the blue and gold marbled cover.
"I hope you will reconsider staying with us here… but of course, you may stay at Impa's house as long as you like."
"Thank you," he repeated.
"Please write to me," she said, "and come visit any time." She kissed him softly on the corner of his lips.
"Goodbye, Zelda," said Link, leaving her and heading for the stone door where he had entered.