When Link had asked to explore the woods, he hadn't expected to find a body there too.
Myrrha Village was beautiful, but absolutely tiny. A small settlement tucked away in the corner of Hyrule, it was often forgotten by travellers and merchants alike. It was a shame, because it was home to some of the clearest waters and encircled by some of the hugest mountains Link had ever seen - not that he'd seen many, but he knew enough from time spent in the Elder's hut that Myrrha was special because of the amount of nature it boasted. The village was inhabited by a boisterous, jolly crowd of ranging ages; all tied together by a fondness of racing, drinking and laughter. The atmosphere was always lively, and he had nothing but warm memories of the place he was growing up in.
That being said, it was absolutely tiny, so Miharia Forest had become far more appealing to Link once he had explored every inch of the lakes and mountains surrounding the village. It was only ten minutes away from his house, so his parents were far more agreeable when he had asked to spend some time there. It was definitely a better location than the shark-infested Miharian Sea; the sight of his father spluttering over a cup of tea and his mother thumping him on the back when he had asked to go there still made him laugh at times.
However, Miharia Forest was not as safe as they thought it was if Link had managed to find a body in its dense thickets.
Dropping to his knees, he cautiously knelt closer to the cloaked figure. It looked like a boy, although his face was hidden by the hood, so it was hard to tell.
Link wondered whether he should try to wake him up. It wasn't the best place to take a nap, especially after the rumours flying around which talked of strange monsters waking in the dead of night. Dozens of villagers had talked of shadowy creatures that died as the sun peeked out from behind the horizon, but rose again once the moon reached its peak in the sky. Reports like these were becoming more common, and it was enough to make anyone nervous about leaving the village.
But here was a person sleeping out in the wild? Was it right to leave him by himself?
Link pondered over his predicament for a little while longer, debating whether he should leave the boy to wake up in his own time, before deciding with a firm nod. His father would wake him up if he was there, if at least to warn him about the dangers in the night. If his father would do it, he would do it too.
Slowly, slower than a snail, he extended his hand and touched the cloth.
The arm twitched.
He staggered backwards, landing on his side and scrabbling to gain a purchase on the ground. The boy started to spasm, emanating a rattling groan which sent chills through Link's spine.
He definitely wasn't sleeping. He shifted and struggled, and the words which came next weren't difficult to make out.
"H-help... me... p-please..."
Link scrambled to his feet and bolted in the direction of the house.
As he sprinted, gasping and panting, a thousand questions assaulted his mind, likes flocks of birds tearing at crops in the fields. Who was he? How did he end up in the middle of the forest? Why did he sound like he was going to die?
Should he have tried to wake him up sooner?
He didn't bother knocking or announcing his presence, instead barging through the door and skidding to a halt in front of his alarmed parents.
"Link!" his father scolded, rising from his chair. "What are you doi-"
"Papa! There's a boy in the woods! I found him, but I think he's hurt - I thought he was sleeping but then he started to groan - please, we have to help him!"
His father stared at him, registering his words, before quickly striding to the hearth and hauling Grymhildr over his shoulder.
"Show me, Link," he told him, before turning to his mother, who had risen as well. "I'll be back soon, don't worry-"
"No." she finished for him. She crossed the room and lifted her cloak from the peg on the door, before fastening it around her neck and turning to him defiantly.
"Evy, if the boy's hurt, we don't know what's out there. You've heard what people have said, it could be dangerous!"
"It's dangerous, but Link's going?" she admonished gently, interrupting him as he opened his mouth to argue back. "I'm fully capable of defending myself, Cadmus, you know that. It's the child I'm concerned for. If he's hurt, I have to help him."
He tried again, but was cut short when Link urged him to hurry with a silent plea. "All right," he sighed, "just be careful."
She rolled her eyes and gave Link a slight smile, before taking his hand in her own warm one. They began to run.
The family soon reached the boy, with Link rushing forward to lead the way. His father nudged the boy onto his back, before slowly, carefully peeling away his hood. Link gasped at what he saw.
The boy had shorn crimson hair, dark skin and a soft round face with chubby cheeks – cheeks much like his own. However, it was marred with seething burns and glaring cuts which littered his skin like stretched cobwebs: some paper thin, whereas others gaping wide and revealing patches of white. The horrible wounds travelled down his neck and disappeared under his shirt. His breathing was barely audible, and it was with a jolt that Link realised that his eyes had shut.
His mother wasted no time. She immediately began to wipe the cuts clean and applied what Link recognised as burn salve where she could, before uncorking a golden bottle and tipping the contents gently down his throat. The salve was mildly cooling, as he remembered from his escapade with the cooker last year; but would it be enough? In Link's case, his burns were mild; here, the boy had half of his skin flaking away...
His father hovered behind her, eyeing the trees warily, his sword held high and glinting against the evening sun. Link hopped from foot to foot, anxious and helpless. Feelings of sorrow rose up in him like vomit, cascading over him in terrible waves – the feeling that, if he was quicker, maybe he would be conscious, or at least a little better than he was right now. It was unbearable to watch: waiting to see whether he could be saved or not, and Link couldn't help but gnaw at his nails in fear.
Finally, she drew herself up and wiped her hands on her tunic. Link watched her for any news, his brain stuttering to a stop as he waited for her words.
"Well?" His father finally broke the silence. She turned to face them.
"We need to get him back to the house, and quickly." she announced. "He can still be saved."
Link let out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding. His father strode over, lifted the boy into his arms and set off into a run - as fast as he could go without aggravating his injuries. His mother took his hand again and they swiftly followed in pursuit.
Treating the boy was agonisingly painful. Link could only stare, mouth agape, as his parents restrained the thrashing: under his torn clothes, his wounds were worse than they had anticipated. The screams pierced long and well into the night, and Link clamped his hands over his ears as he sat, shivering, against the wall outside.
How had he even thought of leaving the boy in the woods while he went off to play?
The weight of his earlier intentions made his insides curl in disappointment, only making the long wait even wearier.
It was an eternity before his father stepped out of the room. He wiped his grimy fingers on his trousers as Link sprung up, and held a finger aloft before he could open his mouth.
"He'll be fine. A little tired, but fine." he smiled tiredly. He ruffled Link's hair. "You did a good job when you found him, son. I'm proud of you."
Link weakly returned the smile, but his father's reassurances nothing to heighten his glum mood. He didn't feel heroic, or as if he'd done something good. He had only found the boy by accident, and was about to leave him until he asked for help. He didn't feel like he deserved his father's praise - not all of it, anyway – but his inner turmoil went unnoticed as his father closed the door of the bedroom behind him.
His mother stepped out soon afterward. Quietly closing the door behind her, she all but collapsed into the armchair opposite the crackling fire, and it was with a sudden realisation that Link noticed how her eyes were bloodshot and drooping. He hurried over, unable to contain his worry.
"Mama? Are you okay? Is he really okay?"
She, too, smiled at him gently, but unlike his father she contemplated her words before answering.
"He'll be alright for now." she soothed. "He might be tired for a long while, and may not wake up for quite some time, but with the proper care I'm sure he'll be fine." She paused and cast an eye over his troubled expression, no doubt figuring out what he was really thinking, before smiling and continuing. "Would you like to look after him?"
Taken aback but pleased, Link took only a moment to think before nodding vigorously. "Of course! But I don't know much about healing..."
"Don't worry, I'll do the healing part. I actually wanted you to talk to him when he wakes, so he could be a little more comfortable. He's suffered terrible injuries, and I don't want him to feel more scared than he already is."
A surge of delight rose up in him at the prospect of being to help for once instead of watching from afar, until it was quashed by the feeling from earlier. Suddenly he was uncomfortable again, fidgeting from foot to foot. It must've shown on his face, because his mother frowned and knitted her eyebrows together with concern.
"Link? What's wrong?"
"It's just..." he mumbled. She was waiting for him patiently. He took a deep breath before ploughing on. "I was going to leave him! I wanted to explore the woods and I stopped for a bit to see who it was, and then I only ran back here when he asked for help..."
She was silent. Link didn't dare look up from where he was staring at the floor. Of course she would be disappointed in him. His mother, the woman lovingly known for her courage and honour; who taught him about justice and moral values from the day he started to talk. The person he looked up to and admired, who he had been told was like the legendary hero from the stories. Instead of following her example, he had acted like a villain, and had turned away from a person in need. She was probably going to scold him until his ears burned with shame, and it wouldn't be undeserved. He waited.
She hugged him.
"Huh...?" Of all the things he was expecting, it hadn't been this. "Mama?"
"Oh, Link." She laughed, her eyes twinkling. "It doesn't matter what you were going to do, sweetie. You weren't doing something wrong by thinking about leaving him, because you didn't know he was hurt. In the end, you saved his life when you responded to his plea. He wouldn't be here without you."
He smiled, just a little. "You really mean it?"
"I really do. Although from now on, please try to wake a person if they happen to be sleeping in dangerous places. Help first, play later. Take a lesson from today, hm?"
He nodded, brightening.
"Anyway," she straightened, her expression shifting from soft to stern. "You're still awake. What time is it, mister?"
"Oh..." he gulped sheepishly. "Late...?"
She arched an eyebrow, and began to laugh when Link bolted up the stairs, knocking over a pot in the process.
Under the warm covers, Link wondered about the boy in the opposite room. How old was he? Was he sleeping peacefully? Dreams or nightmares? Did he snore?
If he snored, he was joining his father in the bed downstairs. Two elephants in one room. There was no need for one family to wake the entire neighbourhood, after all.
Link smiled tiredly at his own joke, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep.
The boy didn't wake up. At least not for a long while.
His mother assured him that it was normal, but old worries resurfaced and Link couldn't help but feel anxious. The boy slept for so long, longer than he had ever slept in his life, and he looked so weak. He wanted to talk to him and find out why he was in such a bad shape, but he simply wouldn't wake up.
The days passed in a blur of changing bandages, applying countless salves one after the other and carefully dripping water into his parted mouth. Link was learning a lot about healing under his mother's tutelage coupled with a real patient, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. How she had the patience to do this for seven years at the castle, he couldn't imagine.
Then, on the third day, she approached him quietly and told him that he had woken.
Link had leapt to his feet in his ecstasy and rushed to the door, before a hand clasped him firmly on the shoulder, effectively anchoring him in place. He pouted, impatient, and looked up to his mother. Her gentle disposition was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristically grim one.
"Try not to get so excited. He hasn't spoken to us yet, but he might talk with you, since you're nearer to his age. Be gentle."
Link frowned but nodded anyway, before knocking lightly on the door and entering.
He noticed the boy's expression before anything else – or rather, lack of expression. There was no joy or sorrow etching his features: his eyes held no spark or fire. He sat with a dull stare, only glancing up to check on who had come in, before resuming his gazing into his lap. Link brought up a stool, and waited for the boy to acknowledge him any further.
He didn't. Link cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little awkward.
"Hi." He began tentatively.
No response.
"I'm Link."
The boy didn't even look up. He tried again.
"Um. We found you in the woods. I mean, I found you in the woods. You were really hurt so I ran home – this place is home, by the way – and got my parents to carry you back. They healed you too."
Again, no response. Link felt a twinge of frustration, though he quickly dismissed it. The boy was probably just scared.
"Do you... um... know what happened to you? You were badly burnt, and you had lots of cuts..."
At this, the boy stiffened, his fists clenching the sheets into tight balls, and turned away. A surge of panic washed over Link. He hadn't come to make things worse, yet the boy was becoming visibly angry anyway. It was definitely not what his mother had asked him to do.
"I-I'm sorry! It must be painful. I won't ask you again if you don't want me to."
The boy didn't answer, but visibly relaxed, if only a little. Link breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was being listened to, even if it wasn't quite the reaction he had wanted.
"So... um... what's your name? Oh, it's all right if you don't want to tell me," he added hurriedly. "I only wanted to know so I could call you by it. But it's okay, really! My name is Link – did I already tell you that? I'm nine years old. I know I look tiny, but I really am nine! You can even ask my mum. She's the one who healed you, actually. Maybe you remember her? She's the one with long brown hair..."
Link rambled on, aware that he was babbling, before he heard a soft whisper from the bed.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
The boy was quiet for a long moment, before finally looking straight at Link.
"My name. It's Ganondorf Dragmire."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Updates may be a little sporadic until mid-June because of exams, but I'll try to get them out to you as soon as possible. I have a feeling that this story is going to be huge.
My tumblr is veilsofmist, if you want to talk to me :)