So many times when I was young, I would ask my mother for the story of my birth. The story always held great fascination for me, but it was a tale of great pain for her.
She would begin: "You were born far too early. The stars by which your birth had been calculated had not turned into their courses yet, but my body began pushing you and your brother out just the same."
My mother told me of the older brother I had never met, that had never lived. "The midwife came and soon she asked me to start pushing. At the time, I did not know that I was carrying twins. I knew that I was bigger than other women in the village who were set to deliver their babies at the time I was, but the thought didn't occur to me."
"When your brother came out, I saw immediately that he would never take his first breath. He had already left for the Immortals' Plane." As a Sheikah tribe, we believe that when a person dies, they go to another plane above the earth. There is the lower plane, where most mortals dwell and live out their lives, and then there is the higher plane where the Immortals reign and mortal souls go after death.
My mother continued, "His face was a pearly blue, and his fingernails were tiny and purple. He had dark, thin hair and his mouth was so beautiful. It looked almost as if he were ready to suddenly turn pink and begin crying, but such a thing couldn't happen. He was perfect in every way except for being alive."
"I held your brother and cried over him, stroking his smooth forehead, but no sooner had the midwife handed him to me than she cried out, 'There is another infant!' Instinctively, I began pushing. My heart clenched, fearing that this other baby would be stillborn like the first. Instead, I was blessed with the sound of a healthy, squalling baby. I looked over to see you, and hope came into my heart again.
"'She's a girl!' the midwife exclaimed, and I laid my dead baby beside me to cradle you. I wrapped you in your first blanket and laid the most loving and joyful kiss on your forehead. Even though you were nearly inconsolable while the midwife and I gave you your first bath, you settled down soon enough when I gave you suckle, Impa." I smiled with pride.
"You were every bit as beautiful as your brother. Instead of dark hair, you had a light lavender-gray shade of hair. Every Sheikah mother dreams of having a baby with hair such as yours, but few are ever blessed with one. Your eyes were blue just like a Sheikah baby's should be."
This was the first time that I had heard I had been born with blue eyes. I hadn't any idea that a Sheikah baby was supposed to have them in the first place.
"Mother, my eyes are red now. Did they appear to be blue when I was born?" I asked.
"No, dear heart, rare is the Sheikah baby that is born with red eyes, as yours are now. Most babies in our tribe are born with blue or brown eyes, and gradually over a few years, they turn into the correct shade of red."
All I could say was, "Oh." I was more stunned than anything else. I had never seen a baby to begin with, so there was no reason to doubt my mother's ability to distinguish between colors. My mother saw the surprise in my face, smiled at me, and pulled me close to her to begin her story again.
"I watched your every little movement. You wrinkled your brow whenever a strange sound occurred, and wrinkled your nose when you smelled something you didn't like. You waved your arm and squirmed when you were ready to be changed. Even though I knew you couldn't smile or return my affection yet, I saw in your eyes that you had become attached to me. So many nights I would cry
'I love you!', but I could tell you were quite unimpressed, as you only yawned." She grinned as she related this last part to me.
"We buried your older brother the same day that you and he were born. In Sheikah custom, it is bad practice to name a stillborn infant, as their spirit is said to return to haunt you. I named him anyway, because a visit from my first baby, even if he was in spirit, would be most welcome to me.
"Since I would never see what your brother might have been like, I simply named him Sheik. It's a strong name that denotes leadership in our community. The word 'Sheikah' means 'race of leaders' in our language. Perhaps he is a leader among the Immortals on the higher plane." My mother's gaze went far away. She looked at my face, which I'm sure appeared to be quite curious, and continued her story.
"As I fulfilled my role as Mother Protector of the Sheikah tribe, I took you everywhere I went. The midwife made a thick sling to go over my shoulder so that I could carry you with ease. I helped my friends deliver their babies with you on my chest, I led tribal meetings while I held you on my neck, and I oversaw the martial training of the Sheikah children with you secured onto my back. I never laid you down in your cradle, I always brought you to sleep in the crook of my arm at night."
"Your birth was such a comfort to me after the death of my husband and your father. He died in combat, when the Sheikah and Gerudo of the West clashed on the edge of the Great Forest. He was the bravest Sheikah warrior I knew, and even before you were born, he whispered over my growing belly how much he already loved you. I can't imagine what he would have thought when he discovered your brother never took his first breath. I was blessed with such an idyllic existence; I suppose the Goddesses saw it fit to bring tears into my life. I am not bitter." I craned my neck from my vantage point to see my mother's eyes in a far, far away place, in a land full of memories. She stroked my arm and turned to look at me.
"How could I be bitter when They gave me you?"
She held me very close then. While she loved me dearer than her own breath, I know now that she deeply missed my father and my brother.
The years passed and I grew from a skinny six-year old into a strong child of ten. My martial training formally began at seven, and gradually I mastered the arts of hand-to-hand combat, long and short sword training, and series of kicks and punches meant to bring an enemy down in half a heartbeat. My mamelah's wishes were that I would be able to defend my little town and a family of my own if the need ever arose. The martial training was enjoyable for me, but at ten I was much more of a home-body than a connoisseur of combat. Still, I obeyed my mother's wishes and learned the tactics I might need one day.
When I was not completing my martial lessons, I was usually at work doing menial chores around my house, such as carrying water, stoking the fire, making sure our dinner didn't burn, keeping the neighbor's chickens out of our vegetable garden, and the like. I always thought our house was the best out of the entire Sheikah village. It overlooked the main entrance to our village from the Hyrule Plains so that my mother and I could watch for any intruders (or so I imagined). The only other entrance to the village was the passage from Death Mountain, where a race of creatures with rocks for bodies lived. We never received visitors to our village from those creatures, but mamelah said that before I was born, they sometimes passed through our village to pay tribute to the Hylian king.
My life wasn't all peace, quiet and martial training. Despite the fact that I tended towards being a home person, I was definitely among the more rowdy female children. I competed in rock-throwing contests with boys and girls alike, held my breath the longest underwater, and could run the fastest in our races.
There was one timid boy in our group whose name was Tonto. His three brothers before him were positively fearless, but little Tonto was the exact opposite. Anything that was taller or a stranger made him tremble to the bottoms of his boots. He was nine to my ten years, and he had been going through the martial arts with his father and some of the other fathers of the village, but he never seemed to pick it up completely.
Of course, at my age, there is no compassion for children who are weak, male or female. While the other children tended to draw away or ignore him, I unfortunately took more than a little pleasure in tormenting him. Many times, I would challenge him to a hand-to-hand fight—I knew this was the place where he would be weakest. I would get into the classic starting position for hand combat: arms up, fists curled with thumbs out, and feet spread in a firm stance on the ground. Oh…and a vicious face to complete the picture.
Tonto would whimper but would take up my challenge. I would squint my eyes just before I made the first strike, and inevitably, within three punches to the chest, he would be on his hind end on the ground and sobbing loudly, face raised to the heavens as if the Goddesses themselves would rescue a silly coward-child.
"Ach, go home, you stupid wimp!" I would shout in his face, folding my arms to my chest and looking away in disgust. Tonto would roll onto his stomach, crawl to his feet, and then run to his house crying as he went.
Later, when my girlfriends and I were starting to walk back to our homes, my best friend, Etheria piped up, "You need to be nicer to Tonto. He could end up your husband one day."
I threw my head back and laughed dramatically. Tonto a husband? A supporter, provider and defender of a family? Ridiculous, at least to my childish mind.
"You never know," Etheria continued, "Your mother and the village counselors will be making matches between the girls and the boys very soon….in just six months time."
It was Sheikah custom to create "matches" between young children so that they had time to get to know each other's character and behavior before they were married many years later. The breaking of a "match" is very nearly unheard of. The two that were "matched" cannot break it unless there is something severely wrong with one or the other's basic moral character. And even then, the "match" is not lightly broken and could sometimes takes half a decade to officially break. In other words, a match is taken seriously.
The Sheikah counsel would gather together and discuss an individual child's character and general demeanor. They would be carefully matched up to a member of the opposite gender who would compliment the other. Usually, since the Sheikah tribe was a matriarchal one, the girls would be talked over first, and a boy would be matched to her. The process was long and drawn out, and the discussions could take close to a year.
As I walked with my girl friends to our homes, I thought about Tonto's older brothers. They were the picture of the perfect match, the perfect future husband—physically strong and able to fight any enemy to the death. But they were also kind-hearted and able to take care of newborn infants just as easily as a woman. The oldest of Tonto's brothers had just received his ear piercings, an honor given only to young Sheikah warriors recognized for the strength of their character and of their hand.
"Tonto could never merit the ear piercings, could he?" I asked aloud of my girlfriends.
Ephemera, the pessimistic one among my two friends spoke up, "Probably not. He can't even hold a short sword the right way, let alone use it. But how can he not? He's been receiving training from his father for eight seasons!"
Etheria said, "He needs time more than anything else. He—"
"—is as good as worth nothing," I broke in. "If he doesn't show bravery now, he won't show any later on." I tried to make my word final.
"I wouldn't give up on him," Ethery said. "Besides…he could become your future mate."
Etheria and Ephemera laughed out loud. "Imagine that," I growled, and marched for home. My two friends bid me good-night to my back, but I didn't return the salutation. I did not think it was funny that my friends thought that I could possibly be matched to that pale-hearted son of a chicken! He couldn't even stand up for himself when fighting with a girl. I dismissed him and my friends' laughter from my thoughts and began preparing for bed.
Many nights, as families were tucking their children in, and mothers feeding their newborn one last time before bed, I would climb onto the roof from the ladder in the attic of my house. I would lean my head back as far as it could go and I would watch the stars in their white pinpointed glory. The formations that my mother said oversaw my birth were three "tics" away, meaning my eleventh birthday would be in three months. I let my eyes wander over to other formations and I gazed at the giant fairy that seemed to dance, but was frozen for eternity with her arms raised high and her legs in a leap.
I wondered what it would be like to be a star formation.
I wondered what it would be like to be the moon and look down upon the mortals of the earth.
And for the briefest of moments, I wondered what it would be like to step out of my home, out of my village and be a great warrior in a terrible battle.
A/N: If you have a moment, I would love to hear your opinion on the story so far. Thanks so much!