Chapter Two - Trace
I was never sure if I believed in the Goddesses or not.
Din, Farore, Nayru – the three golden beings that gave life to the Hylians, Gerudoes, Zoras, Gorons, people of the forest, along with the very air we breathed and ground we walked. Even the most accursed Sheikah clan counted them as mothers. It was always said that the Hylians were given long ears to hear their words, made the most holy of the races.
But the Sheikah could use the Goddesses' magic as well; The Royal Hylian Family maintained that the Sheikah had stolen a forbidden magic generations ago, and though they were banished from the world of light they still held onto this ability shared only by Hylians. They were thieves not only to mortals, but to divinity.
But never have I seen a people so devoted to something they could never see. The Sheikah worshiped the Trinity more adamantly than anyone, let alone the single-minded Hylian castle servants that cared about nothing but a roof over their head and food in their bellies. Perhaps they wanted to prove that they were really the equals of the most holy Hylians, or perhaps they were begging forgiveness for sins they could not be certain their ancestors committed. I never understood it.
I worshiped the Goddesses as I carried out all other orders; through a sense of duty to my superiors. I went through the motions, I said the words, without feeling a shred of true commitment in my heart. I convinced myself I was a believer, but to the divine, I never held any true faith. How ironic, given what I am. What I was made to be.
I've only prayed two times in my lifetime.
I couldn't quite tell if I was awake or asleep, only that it was warm and soft and nothing at all like it should have been.
I was used to waking up in the chill dark of morning, when all the world was so still it felt like my heartbeat was the only thing that kept all existence from fading away.
Dawn streamed gently through the cotton curtains, washing the plain wood cottage in pastel purples and oranges that could put any palace to shame. It was quiet, but not the type of deep abyss of silence I was used to – birds chirped in both merriment and annoyance, the breeze filtered through the open window, and somebody was humming. Even now, I remember her outline very clearly: the light around her was too bright to be able to make out even what color she was wearing, but somehow the red glow of her hair stuck out like a Seraphim's flame.
It took my dreary mind half an eternity to realize that, First, this was not the Hyrule Castle Dungeons, and, second, I wasn't dead. Following this was the fact that I had no idea where I was. With a person I had never seen before. Which to my mind at the time, meant I had been captured by some hostile third party and was to be interrogated for information and would fail Sheik despite all the trust he had placed in me. (Really, I already had failed, but I suppose I had self-defensively fabricated some shred of honor for myself to protect.)
My mind was racing to come up with a way of getting away from wherever this was while completely ignoring the fact that I couldn't move my body. It occurred to me after a few minutes that to be able to escape I had to at least be able to stand up, so I forced all of my concentration and energy into one leg... and got a small twitch.
Maybe I made a small noise or something, but in any case, Malon noticed I was awake. She paused for a moment, and without any fear strode up to me. With every footfall nearer my heart sunk further into hostility, or maybe it was terror; I just remember that when she smiled down at me I wanted to slit her throat. My face remained stoic.
"Finally awake, are we? It's about time, Mr. Moocher... I've had to sleep in the barn for a whole week now!" I wouldn't have recognized sarcasm if it had taken human form and slapped me in the face. It would take a while for her to teach me that sometimes when people say something they actually mean the exact opposite – it's still rather stupid, if you ask me.
She sort of peered down at me for a minute before continuing. "... I suppose it would be kind of pointless to ask if you're okay, huh? I've never seen anybody that badly messed up before... as if your shoulder and leg weren't bad enough, I had to try and heal your hand..." Her little shudder was enough to bring memories of bone-gnawing pain pulsing through my fingers as I tried to cling to the stone wall to slow my fall. "Look, um, I'm not exactly a trained healer or anything, but I figured I'd better not bring you to the doctor. You know, seeing as you're all secret-y and stuff. Is there anything I can get for you?"
I refused to look at her and stared instead at the ceiling. "Ooh, too high and mighty to talk to little old me, eh?" She shook her head, sighing dramatically and placing her hands on her hips as she leaned back. "I suppose I don't get any thanks for taking care of you, then?" I didn't even blink. "Okay, have it your way," she hummed and skipped out of the room without another wasted second.
...and that was my first encounter with Malon. The biggest things often come in the smallest packages.
"Geez fairy boy, you're even more stubborn than I thought!" she groaned as she attempted to get me to eat for the umpteenth time. The ceiling was probably getting worn out from me glaring at it for so long. By then I had become used to her schedule; she'd come in at about 7 to start washing the clothes, sweep at 10, rant at me about her problems at 11:30, chase the chickens around for a while, start cooking at about 5:30, and come in intermittently to try and shove some food down my throat. (Oddly enough, she never tried to physically make me drink the LonLon milk she bragged about constantly and placed a bottle of in a vat of ice by my bed fresh every day.) I had also deduced that her father was a rather relaxed man who would much rather sleep than work (an assumption that, as it turns out, was correct), she had some obnoxious farm hand named Ingo, and was motherless. I still, however, had neither opened my mouth nor looked her in the eye. And for the record, I still have no idea where the nickname "Fairy Boy" came from.
"Great... a half-dead guy comes riding in all torn up and bloody on some horse in the middle of the night, and I have to give up all my time – and bed – trying to heal him, but when he's finally able to sit up after like a week – in which he was hogging my bed – he won't even look me in the eye. Or eat. Who in Din's name doesn't eat for a week!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air and nearly sending the porridge flying from the bowl.
I remember being tempted to snap at her that not eating for a week was nothing, and any respectable Shiekah should be about to go for at least a month without decent supplies, when Talon poked his head through the door and piped gruffly, "Some soldiers here ta see ya, darlin'."
"Soldiers?" she muttered, furrowing her eyebrows and finally placing the porridge down on the small wooden nightstand. (That might have been the first time I smirked in several years.) "What for?"
Talon just shook his head wearily and stepped back out the door, making room for his teenage daughter. She paused just before leaving, glaring back at me and hissing "Don't think you've escaped eating that."
I glowered after her, but strained my ears to try and hear what was going on in the other room.
"- attempted to assassinate her Highness Princess Zelda and fled Hyrule Metropolis six days ago. He would have been badly injured, and riding a brown horse." I frowned. Epona was definitely red. Stupid Hylians couldn't see worth anything in the dark. Not to mention I hadn't been trying to assassinate her. "He's believed to be a young man, with blonde hair and a slim build. Have you seen him?"
I sighed and leaned back into the pillow. It was really astounding how disorganized the Hylian Knights were. I'm sure the Shiekah knew I was at Lon Lon Ranch no later than a few hours after I arrived there. I had been anticipating this moment since I woke up – the moment I would fail as a Shadow and disgrace Impa forevermore among our tribe as the mentor of an assassin who was captured – the worst fate a Shiekah could meet.
Thanks to Malon's efforts, I was able to sit up with pain flowering only from the arrow would in the back of my shoulder, and the night before had even managed to drag myself along with floor (my right leg was severely broken) and retrieve my small dagger from where Malon had placed it across the room. Even if I tried to crawl with one arm across the floor or out the window, I wouldn't be mobile enough to escape for a week yet.
Still, I wasn't about to go out without a fight. I clutched the tiny silver hilt of the dagger under the covers, the sensation spreading tightly through my torn and atrophied body. Typical Hylian Knights were known for their incompetence, but in my current state I probably wouldn't be able to handle more than two or three, and from the sounds of horses breathing and stomping outside it seemed like a brigade was stationed just beyond the thin wooden walls. I took solace in the fact that if all else failed, I could take the dagger into my own breast and at least avoid that one, final shame.
"Hmm... I don't think I've seen anyone like that." Her words blew over me like a warm wind.
"Would you mind if we took a look around?" A pause.
"On what grounds?"
"Ex...cuse me?"
"On what grounds do you have a right to search our property?"
"Like I said, a Sheikah assassin has-"
"I already told you I haven't seen him."
A tense silence pressed from the doorway. I couldn't see into the main room, but all it took was hearing Malon's voice to imagine her standing, staunch footed, in front of the entrance. The playful energy I was used to had faded into a sort of contrite politeness, and even that had almost snapped in her last statement.
"Miss, do you realize who you're talking to?" The Knight's voice had taken on a tone of warning now.
"Why of course. You all are Knights from Hyrule Metropolis, yes?"
"Precisely. And as Knights, we have received orders to search Hyrule and its borderlands until we find this monster."
"Orders from whom?"
"Excuse me?" Another Knight had cut in, irritation bubbling under his accented voice. "What does that-"
"As I take it you know, Lon Lon Ranch has a special agreement with the King. He grants us this land and reprieve from Royal taxes as long as we breed and provide specialized horses for his advisers and Generals. As such, this land is the property of the crown, and you cannot enter without signed permission from King Harkinian."
"But we're Hylian Knights! Surely we can-"
"If you're here on orders from the King, surely you have a permit?"
"Listen, lass, don't play smart with us. We're here on orders from General Amadi, His Majesty's most trusted military adviser. Don't try telling us that isn't good enough for you bumpkins."
"M-Malon, darlin', maybe we should..." Talon's voice quavered helplessly and I could almost feel his glance pass over to the room I lay in.
"No. The terms of our contract with the King state that anyone who comes here without his express permission are no more than trespassers and will be punished. Wanna see the papers themselves?" Malon's voice was almost pure contempt now.
"I've had just about enough of you, brat!" I heard a shuffling sound and tried to leap up but was incapacitated by pain. "Permit or not, what to stop us from just shoving you aside and-"
"Let go of me." The command was simple. Her voice was firm.
I never talked to Malon about that day, but knowing her as I do now, the scene is almost hilariously easy to imagine: Malon, eyes narrow and full of fire, legs spread sturdily and hands barely twitching into fists, staring into the Knight's eyes in that way of hers that makes you backtrack into questioning your own motives; then, as she next speaks, a low steady tone that starts as an untraceable threat and ends in an almost playful smirk. "I apologize if this inconveniences you all, but I really must obey King Harkinian's direct orders and not allow you to breach our contract, lest I become a traitor to the Kingdom. You all wouldn't want that, would you? Now, if there's any way at all I can help in finding this runaway assassin that won't break the law, I will be more than happy to assist you. After all..." She would finish with the perfect smile, head slightly coked to the right and eyes glowing with mischief, "LonLon Ranch will always remain loyal to the King."
Malon made no comment about the indecent, and I was disgustedly impressed at how quickly she began to nag me about eating again. (She never missed a day of bringing a bottle of milk, either.) It went unspoken that the soldiers would return with a Royal Permit, possibly within the week, and this only added to the mutual understanding that I would be gone as soon as I had the strength to stand.
This didn't seem to bother Malon; she had cared for me knowing this all along, knowing also that she wouldn't receive so much as a shred of gratitude. Yet she continued to come in every day, talk to me and pause for responses she knew wouldn't come, and turned a blind eye to the fact that every night I would do push-ups with my good arm and leg to prepare for the hour of my escape.
I hadn't seen many Hylians, but I knew she was unusual. As underexposed to emotion as I was, I could sense it coming off people in droves almost as thick as a tangible scent. This was true of her, too; her happiness was like sunflowers in the breeze, irritation like spoiled eggs... and yet it was muffled, somehow, as if there were a veil of apathy or perhaps faithlessness spread evenly over her heart. I've met many people who keep close watch over their emotions, but none quite in the same way as her. Whereas I had been trained to seal them away and never look back, hers were not restrained, per se; she looked at them and remembered them, kept them by her side, but never let them wander too far. It was a type of calm, confident control not even Zelda could come to master.
This coupled with her staunch defiance of the Knights had placed the tiniest seed of respect within me, along with something I had not known since the earliest days of my childhood: curiosity. How was it that she was able to act so naturally towards me? Why did she continue to care for me despite gaining nothing in return? These thoughts did nothing to increase my temperament about her: quite the opposite, really – it was despicable that she should allow herself to fraternize with her blood enemy, and brave as it had been, placing herself in danger to protect me was the epitome of foolishness in my eyes.
If I was surprised by one thing, it was that she asked me no questions. Beyond just knowing I wouldn't answer, she seemed to have a serious regard for my privacy. I could sense questions thrumming just beneath her skin, and I think she figured out that among hers was the one whirring around frantically within my own mind: Why haven't the other Sheikah come to get me?
"Well, Fairy Boy, it's time to change the wrappings on your hand. Come on, let's see it." I lay perfectly still. She blinked once before reaching over my body and jerking my arm towards her relentlessly. The gesture would have made any normal person howl in pain.
I kept my eyes fixed on one particularly interesting knot in the wooden wall and she slowly began to unwind the thick mass of bandages. I put much more thought into the cool breath flowing into my lungs as I tried to ignore the raw sting of air jabbing like needles into the exposed flesh, and I heard Malon sigh in unease. ten days time had done almost nothing to heal the lump of mangled flesh.
As always, she talked to try and distract me from the infernal searing of warm water against my raw bones.
"You know, I wish you could be as agreeable as your horse. She hasn't complained once since she got here, and eats everything I give her. You should really try to learn from her." I scoffed so subtly it was no more than a twitch. It wasn't the first time she had brought up Epona; as a trained horse handler, how could she not? Large for a mare, she was built of pure lean muscle and could both outrun and overpower any generic warhorse, and wasn't afraid to do so. But above her determination and strength and even outstanding intelligence was her bright and unwavering loyalty; even when faced with the most dire of situations she would refuse to back down and would stand by her rider no matter the cost. Unbeknownst to myself, my pride would swell like bread in an oven at the mere mention of her name. Malon sighed sadly. "Such a fine horse. It'll be a pity when she's gone."
The comment caught me off guard and made me glance at her face for the briefest fraction of a second. It was probably just my imagination, but something in her eyes or her voice or her demeanor made it seem like she knew, then, that that would be the last time she would ever see me.
At least, what I thought would be the last time.
After a rare few minutes in silence, she had finished scrubbing at the stumps of my fingers. "Ugh. I'm not getting paid nearly enough for this." I still didn't recognize sarcasm. "Ready for gauze?"
I inwardly squelched. At no time were Malon's farmer's hands more apparent than when trying to preform delicate tasks such as applying ointment and wrapping bandages. I got smacked quite a few times for laughing at her catastrophic attempts at knitting over the years. But that didn't make it any more funny to have my hands pinched and poked roughly at every turn the bandages took around my fingers. But for all the pain, I can't deny that it helped, and I might not be able to use my leg or arm properly even now if not for her.
Lost in concentration, she didn't notice that for the first time since she took me in, I was looking directly at her. Her hair really was an extraordinary color, not like autumn leaves or sunsets or even flames, but more like fresh blood. Even her eyelashes, long and slanted downward, carried the deep crimson hue. Her skin, sun-flecked halfway to ruddy, belied her status as a farmer in a way even her plain and washed-out clothing couldn't. But she had no tired worker's eyes. If there was anything ever to exist in the world that could be called "sky blue," it was Malon's eyes. They were sky blue in a way even the sky couldn't hope to be. See, the sky is constantly changing; from orange and pink to deep midnight blue and sometimes purple and even green, not to mention when clouds white and grey stretch out over the horizon: its hardly ever the same. No matter the season, time, or circumstances, Malon's eyes never wavered from that bright, pure azure. Ever.
I quickly looked away when she glanced up and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow with a loud "Whew! Glad that's over with!" She considered me for a moment. "Hey, what's wrong? Finally realized that the wall isn't going to react no matter how long you glare at it? You look sullen." I realized I had my lips parted and eyes loosely lidded and quickly reconfigured my face into a grim glower.
"Haha, that's more like usual." She giggled, then brought one arm high above her head and stretched with a wide yawn. "Mnn... It's getting pretty late. I think I might hit the hay... literally." I waited for her to comment on how I was still hogging her bed. She didn't. Instead, she strode over to the door and gave me an impish grin over her shoulder. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if that milk didn't go to waste. It is the best in Hyrule, after all. Not that I haven't already told you that. But it's not like I can miss a chance to advertise, now can I?" She smirked lopsidedly. "Good night."
'Good night.' What an oxymoron.
I waited until the house was still and the faint orange glow from the barn had vanished, watching as the moon shyly formed from betwixt the thin mist of cloud cover through the window. I had no qualms about leaving without a trace; it was my job, after all.
Slowly, but not clumsily, I got to my feet. My leg was tightly bound in a brace, and walking was no easy feat. I crossed the room at a snail's pace, lifting my weapons and gear in my left arm and holding them in the crux of my body as I fumbled with the lock on the window and slyly slid it open. I scanned the outside and dropped by belongings in the dust with a wince, regretful at how poorly I was treating them.
I took a deep breath and managed to haul my almost lifeless leg up until it rested on the windowsill, and was about to drop outside when I paused. I sat there for quite some time. Then, I heaved my leg back inside and hobbled laboriously back to the bedside. I paused for several long minutes before lifting the milk out of the ice vat and drinking it in a few gulps. Then, I placed the empty bottle on the small bedside table and finally left.
The air outside was cool and calm, hardly enough to send chills dusting across my skin. It only took one whistle for Epona to come leaping over the pen fence, more quietly than any horse could be imagined to be, and we were cantering out of the LonLon Ranch gates.
We rode a fair distance under the ghostly gaze of moonlight, until we came to rest beneath the withered silhouette of a dead willow tree. The slight wash of silver over the stable rooftops was a only blinking beacon in the distance now.
Attached to Epona's saddle I had found some peasant's bread, water, a pair of what I took to be Talon's old clothes, and a note, unsigned: Next time, youget to sleep in the barn.
That was the first time she got me to smile. Halfhearted and void. Not out of joy or even humor, only a bleak sense of misplaced fate. I knew for sure there wouldn't be a next time.
Maybe when Malon woke in the morning, some of her unspoken questions would finally have answers. Some, of course, would remain flitting mysteries in the chasm of human curiosity forever: like that one, burning anxiety that had seared the recesses of my conscious and unconscious minds alike... Why didn't they come to get me?
In all reality, I had known the answer all along. I had been declared a failure and had been left for dead. I no longer had any place within the ranks of the Shadows.
It wasn't so much that I couldn't accept this that I couldn't even comprehend it; for me, there was no other lifestyle than that of an assassin. That was my world. My entire world. And it had just been ripped out from under my bleeding fingers.
Malon had done me no justice. By the laws of her people and the teachings of mine, I deserved to be dead. To be kept alive when all shred of honor and thus hope is lost is to torture and disgrace the very core of what makes a person a Shadow. And at that moment, despite what my mind was telling me, I was still very much a Shadow.
I had not in the slightest viewed what Malon bestowed upon me as kindness. It had been a miracle I had survived at all, and Malon had taken that miracle and nurtured it and turned it into something real. And I hated her for it. I hated her as I carried out all other orders.
But I had left a trace. I left no clue or article behind, and yet I had taken with me something she had offered, and with it a debt to be repaid. It was true that after ten days my insides were crawling with hunger, and yet I could have lasted a few more days. In fact, seeing as I had failed to die in the fall, I had half hoped to starve in lieu of what I knew was to come. Yet I drank the milk anyway.
And therein began the first traces of my understanding.
-A/N: Blah, really no action in this chapter. I hope it's not boring... TT^TT At least Malon is fun to write~3
Also, thanks to bellahelen101 for reviewing! You make me a happy person! :D
