He had always been a man of little words. Even though the entire expanse of the Great Sea knew the story of his life, the legend he was a part of, his heroic acts, no one really spoke to him. People didn't talk to him out of sheer awe, because it was hard to be in his presence and speak to someone who had accomplished so much at a young age. It was astounding for all and intimidating for most. But the truth was—despite everything—that he was shy. He was awkward, like any other teenager.
It had been six years since Ganon had drowned into the sea to join the ancient Hyrule Kingdom. Many events had occurred since then, and Link was not the same boy he used to be. He wasn't even a boy anymore, he was a man who was living on his own. After Ganon's fall, he had returned to his home island, Outset. He stayed with his grandmother and sister, Aryll, for a few weeks, but after being so adjusted to traveling and sailing, he had to explore more. He was itching to go to sea. Although he loved his family very much, things were different. His adventure had changed him. So with promises of many letters, he left the island to discover what else lay out there. He spent years investigating island after island, until he knew every inch of the Great Sea. He knew all the island's secrets. He had chased every myth that had been passed down through generations, including the Ghost Ship, which he was lucky enough to be the first survivor to explore inside. He had collected every BluChuChu. He had even watered every withering Deku tree.
Years later, he was finished exploring. He wanted to settle down and make a humble life for himself, one not so dependent on the wind (although he could change it, if he so desired). He wanted to be like everyone else: normal.
Currently, he was at the Private Oasis, a small isle that he had bartered with Mrs. Marie for twenty Joy Pendants. After he had left his childhood home in Outset, he dumped what little items he owned but didn't need for daily life onto the island. Whenever he needed a place to sleep, he stayed there, but it wasn't a home. It was lonely and desolate. He wanted to live somewhere else, somewhere with life and energy.
Perhaps someone would be interested in renting it, he considered. He didn't have any form of income aside from blowing up rocks and slicing grass for rupees. It was petty cash, enough to get by. He was good with his money, he hadn't been raised in wealth and learned to save his money from his grandmother. But if he could rent out the Oasis, he could make money that way without having to do much at all.
While pondering over that possibility, he began to pack. He had a plan. It wasn't entirely developed, but a plan nonetheless. He packed up his few precious items: mostly weaponry, spoils, bait, maps, sword-sharpening stones, extra tunics (after he received his first pair on his 12th birthday, he never wore anything else), and a few rations and perishable goods. He heaved the bags over his shoulder and dropped them off on the wraparound porch outside. He took one last look around the Oasis house and, although it could use a little sweep, was satisfied enough to lock it up and go.
It was early morning, and as he walked over to the dock with his bags in hand he looked out towards the sea. It was a fine day for travel: he could tell by the wind against his face. As the Hero of Wind, he had a bond with it, a connection so great, that he understood it. It was magical, this link, and even six years after developing this attachment with the wind, he still was amazed every day.
He put his bags in his boat. It was a small boat, similar to the King of Red Lion's shape and size. It did not guide him verbally, or make small talk, which he missed, and it was not red, which he didn't miss so much. It was plain, wooden, sturdy, and got the job done. It was a little wider, so he could have a passenger fit comfortably in it, although he couldn't remember the last time someone rode with him. He put his bags in a compartment underneath the seat and locked it. He was distrustful of most sailors, as the majority of them were pirates. Thus, he took the precaution of locking his things. He got into the boat, untied it from the dock, and set off northwest. The wind was already blowing the direction he was headed, and did not need to use his baton.
His journey took about two hours. He passed the time by practicing shooting. He had developed a game for times when he would be sailing for great lengths. He would shoot arrows in the water towards fish. It helped improve his aim and composure, and it was incredibly difficult when the boat was moving at a quick and steady pace. It was a challenge, and Link loved a tough challenge. Although it may seem cruel, shooting arrows at helpless fish, but he had to eat and he got sick of bread rolls and crackers, which is what his diet usually consisted of. Besides, he usually ended up just wasting a bunch of arrows and barely catching any fish. However, he liked these long sailing trips. It gave him a lot of time to relax and think. It was therapeutic. Only if he was in a rush would he used the Ballad of Gales, because even though the transportation was quick it gave him a headache and got him completely soaked every time.
He thought a lot about the past. All the people he had met along the way, especially Tetra, Medli, and Makar. As far as Tetra—who refused to be called Zelda, although it was her birth name—he saw her occasionally at sea. They wrote letters to each other often and talked about where they were sailing to next. She was his best friend. She was engaged to Gonzo, a burly pirate who was second-in-command of her ship. He seemed like a reasonable guy to marry, Link didn't know him that well. All of the memories he had of Gonzo were from five or six years ago. Their wedding was scheduled for next month, and Link would be there.
Makar continued to play music. As a sage, he would forever guard the Wind Temple, in place of Fado. Link visits him on occasion and listens to him play beautiful sounds. Despite Makar's wisdom, Link always thinks of Makar as a little brother.
Medli he hasn't seen, not once. Link thinks of her often, almost too often. He knows she must be guarding the Earth Temple, in place of the previous sage, a Zora. After all the confusion post-battle of Ganondorf, Link went off the radar for a while and stayed with his family. He hadn't heard from her, and figured that she didn't want to hear from him. Sometimes he hears the strum of her harp, and his eyes snap up and look around, but it's all subconscious. Their paths crossed for purposes of the greater good, and now that Ganondorf has been defeated, there wasn't a reasonable excuse for them to speak. A year after Ganon's death, he gave up hope on hearing from her. He knew she could find him if she so desired, she comes from a race that delivers mail.
The sudden sight of Windfall Island coming into view broke his thoughts. Of all the places he had ever visited, Windfall was his favorite. Despite his withdrawn personality, he loved all the people Windfall had. There was culture and movement and at any time of day there were people bustling about. It was one of the few islands aside from his own homeland that had children, rather than only elders who still lived in the legend of Hyrule. Windfall had people of art, science, and determination. And hopefully, if Link's plan succeeds, he would be able to find a place to call his own here.