Thievery

Zelda plodded through Termina field, clutching a fraying shall around her shoulders and a woven basket full of fish for the night's super, her eyes glancing toward the great walls of the town of Termina. Actually, she could barely feel the weight swinging from her arm. Rupees were few and far between for her masters, the owners of an inn inside the town of Termina, this meant a thin soup for a nightly supper. The sun pulled itself up over the horizon, doing little to harden the muddy ground and thaw the ice still evident on the ground from the harsh winter just barely passed. The rags she wore tied around her feet did little to protect her reddened feet. She used to have shoes, but someone stole them from her in the town the previous summer.

Even though she was clothed in nothing more than a dress that seemed to be made mostly of patches and her meager attempt to keep warm in the form of a shall, she still had a definite beauty about her. It was undisputed amongst the women in the town that she had the most enviable of features- eyes made of sapphires, long hair spun from gold, and the sveltest of bodies-perhaps a little too svelte at times. They never uttered a word of this admiration to her of course, for in their minds, she was still the lowest in the town. She was but a common slave girl, yet her appearance boiled the blood of even the most affluent the town. It was a very presence she had, and her face nearly glowed and bore only the slightest flaw of a scar upon her forehead, near hidden under her locks of hair.

The scar was as much of a mystery as she was to herself. Her first memories are of a small girl waking clad only in a blanket with a horrible pain in her arm and blood dried on her face. She was in a carriage, she recognized the noise of the horses and the feeling of the turning wheels. It was dark, and their was only one barred window where she could see the passing of the night. She lunged at a door to find it locked, and screamed out to deaf ears. She was in a foreign place, unsure of what was happening, but that was not why she cried. She screamed because, to her mind, this might as well have been her first breath.

At first she couldn't remember her own name. She didn't have any memory of where she had been from, why she was locked in a carriage. Her history was lost, and she could sense she was being moved farther from it with every rotation of the carriage wheels.

She slept upon the rough floor of the compartment, and she arose to streaks of light meeting her eyes. She stood, clutching the dirty blanket to her body with her functioning arm. A man in a cloak met her, but she could not see his face. He picked her up, and she did not object. She was with him only briefly, as he passed her off to an old woman. She gave her a crumpled dress to wear, and wrapped her arm into a sling and cleaned her face. The woman then clasped her working hand in a shackle. Zelda never spoke a word during this. She had nearly forgotten communication.

She found herself walking behind a different carriage, driven by the woman. She was chained to no less then thirty others of a similar age although she appeared to be among the youngest. They stopped late into the night to settle on the earth for a short night of sleep, as they woke before the sun to walk again. Every night they were fed but a handful of cold boiled corn. During the path, if someone fell from heat or hunger, they pulled them along. If by the end of the day they were dead, the remaining children where made to move earth with their cupped hands and bury the departed in sallow graves.

Eventually, they started arriving in towns. They would enter one and stand in a market square, and one by one villagers would come up and put rupees into the old woman's hands and take one of the children. Zelda had been strong enough to make the arduous voyage, but no one wanted a small girl. Finally, when they entered the thick walls of Clock Town, a graying woman approached them with a small red haired girl in hand.

"How much for the little blond girl?" She croaked.

"75 Rupees."

"Are you mad? The scrawny thing isn't worth 50."

The old woman look upon the girl, one of the last to be sold. "60." She muttered.

"Done," the woman toting the girl chirped. Zelda was unchained, utterly confused by what was happening. She was pulled into the street, gripped by back of the dress. She made no attempt to speak, but the woman scolded her.

"You are to keep your mouth shut and do as I say, girl." She nodded.

The read head girl appeared to be a few years older, and had a kind face. She leaned around, and whispered "What is your name?"

Without a conscious thought she spoke her name. She barely dared to whisper it, but she eked out the word "Zelda." The word seemed to be her name, yet it was so strange. The familiarity formed in her mouth and mind, the first key and only one she had to what she was before.

"I'm Anju, and that is my grandmother. I promise we'll be friends, Zelda."

The words were pleasant at first, but Zelda soon realized she had no time for friends. She was lead through the busy streets until they stopped at a humble building. Her master opened the door with a key and pulled the younger girls inside.

"This is our inn, the Stock Pot Inn."

She barely had time to adapt to being inside a building for the first time in her memory when she was dragged back to a long winding hall and into a kitchen. The master pulled out a bucket filled with soapy water and a scrub brush.

"Wash," she said, pointing to the ground. And she had lived like this for twelve years.

She entered the town, receiving a nod from a guard. She walked down the ally of West Clock Town, with her next task being to go to the southern portion of the city for a loaf of bread. She received a few catcalls from the shady men of this side, and she kept her head tucked away from them.

In her hand he held a handkerchief, which stowed away in her skirts. It was tied around an entire two rupees, enough bread for the day. She lived with a family that had been lucky enough to keep their business- economic downfall had pelted the entire kingdom of Hyrule. In the time of peril only the sins of men prevailed. Crime was rampant through the small city, and while honest people tried to scrape by, brothels and bars alike flourished. This was perhaps one of the only reasons the only building with beds and privacy in town had survived.

She slipped down an ally, trusting in sunlight to keep her safe. This however, would not suffice. No sooner had she walked between the buildings than both her exits were blocked. A local gang of boys had gathered, she recognized them as the Bombers. Many of them blocked her passage, and she yelled out, trying her best to be forceful. "What do you want of me? I haven't anything to give you!"

The leader came forward, and signaled the others. They saw past her. She tumbled to the cobblestone, falling on her wrist, and the leader took her hand and pulled away her handkerchief. Just as quickly as she fell, they grabbed her Rupees and ran off. She yelled out after them, but their was no way the small woman could fend of six of them, especially with what felt like a broken wrist. Her eyes leaked out tears of anger and gritted her teeth, but anger was soon swept away by panic. She knew she'd be beaten for this, beaten hard.

She scuttled into the South of Town, cradling her wrist, and the morning market was as busy as ever. People passed by in every direction, she went unnoticed. She new she had to bring back a loaf of bread, but she hadn't a rupee. She stepped before the stand she needed, and the keeper was in a state of chaos dude to many haggling customers.

Then the thought occurred to her.

She could steal the bread.

No, she didn't want to be counted as a common thief. She was no thief. But Goddess, how her mistress would be angry if she had lost the money. The bruises still pained her from when she cracked the kettle a week ago. She wouldn't meet that cane again.

She moved to the side of the table, in clean sight of the bread. She stuck her uninjured arm out slyly, inching forward to the parcel. Zelda tensed in concentration and anticipation, her arm was nearly there...

Then she felt a firm grasp upon her arm, and she turned to met who had caught her. In frenzy, her eyes hazed over. She met with a face she didn't know, and blue intense eyes. He released her, and tossed a few rupees at the stall keeper. He shoved the bread into her arms. She could barely breath.

She took a few steps back and ran off, still panting.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read so far. I just wanted to address the fact that the beginning is a little trite as some of you have pointed out. I apologize, but I failed to mention before that it is themed off of a fairytale like plot, but please, stay with me and hopefully things will get interesting. (Zelink in next chapter)

-Victoire