"Celebration"
He who knows no hardships will know no hardihood. He who faces no calamity will need no courage. Mysterious though it is, the characteristics in human nature which we love best grow in a soil with a strong mixture of troubles.
-Harry Emerson Fosdick
The night was alive with the celebration of Link's homecoming. The villagers danced around a large bonfire singing seemingly all of the traditional songs Link had heard throughout the course of his life, and more. However, Link didn't partake, though the festival was for strictly for him. He did appear cheerful, he thought, for their sake, and tapped his foot to the beat of the singing, but other than that, he sat on a log and watched as the Ordonians reveled. He'd finished his journal entry earlier that day, and halfway considered beginning another one to pass the time of the party. He was exhausted from listening to everyone's chatter, and yearned for it to be over soon so he could go home and to bed. However, he had a discomforting premonition that it would last until dawn, as most of them usually did, depending on the reasoning behind the festivity.
Ilia made her way over to him after two more songs, flushing and winded from the fast dancing, and sat down beside him. He faced her, but otherwise, didn't acknowledge that she was there until she placed a small hand on his shoulder, and made a face that made her appear like she was in deep thought.
"Why don't you dance, Link?" she questioned him, and he didn't answer for a while.
"There's no reason for me to dance, Ilia… You wouldn't understand," he tried not to sound as dismissing as he had, but Ilia didn't seem to take notice of his tone of his voice, even though she paid attention to his words, deliberating her response a few moments before she spoke it aloud.
"You know, Link, you'll never be happy if you don't let yourself be," she walked away before he could reply, so he just thought about them, wondering why she would say such a thing, and supposed his words could be taken as pessimistic, whether he meant for them to be or not. In truth, he wasn't trying to seem disheartened at all, but it appeared to him that he had failed. Link's blue eyes became icy as he stared at nothing in particular, and he could feel the tears behind them, begging to be set free, but he did not cry, and convinced himself that the feeling he was experiencing would not last forever.
Ilia began dancing once more, trying not to think about Link, who was still sitting alone. She wondered what had happened to him, trying to make sense of why he was so diminished now. What could he possibly have gone through? She cast aside the thought, and proudly sang along to the tunes of her fellow comrades, even though she was no singer, to say the least. She caught eye of Link once more after a while, and noticed that Rusl was speaking with him, seemingly with tenderness, by the look of their eyes, as if the old swordsman was trying to console Link in some way.
"Bless your soul, Link," she whispered, "bless your soul."
The next morning, Link did not go outside for the longest time, but sat in his room, and sketched many entries in his diary, taking no notice of anything else but the thick parchment under his hand. He was too fatigued from the celebration last night to leave his home. It had lasted until nearly dawn, and he, being courteous, had stayed for the entirety of it. Although he never rose from his seat during the party, he felt his presence was enough to solace the Ordonians, and convince them that there was nothing at all wrong with him. With the exception of two, Ilia and Rusl. However, they themselves had gotten a decent hand into the evil that reigned over Hyrule.
Link shook his head, and erased a segment of Midna's helmet for the second time now, a little chagrined that he hadn't gotten it right yet. Otherwise, the picture was a stunning depiction of his lost friend. The shading of the charcoal deemed her as enigmatic, and obscure, which she had been upon their first meeting, whilst she waited for him on the other side of the gate in Hyrule Castle's sewer. It took Link two more tries to perfect the masterpiece.
He almost smiled while he looked at her, but he was immediately overwhelmed by what had happened at the end of their laborious journey together. She had let him see her true form as the magnificent Twilight Princess, and then had left him to be with her own people once more. Link let himself reminisce on how prodigious the Lady of Twilight had been, and how shocked he'd been to see Midna as beautiful and regal rather than infinitesimal and sarcastic , even when she had told him what she was way prior to that moment. However, he also recalled the overbearing sadness when she had broken the mirror; therefore, shattering any hope of further contact between the two.
He ducked his head silently, that had been another thing. No matter what situation he had been put in, or who challenged him in battle, Midna was there for him, even if it was partly because she wanted to break the curse. He missed her more than anything, but there was nothing he could do about it, at least… not anymore. He figured it was another thing he'd have to cope without, and knew that the reminder of it would always be comparable to the feeling of a razor-sharp stake driven straight through his heart, but also that he'd have to live with her decision nonetheless.
Link didn't know why she'd done it. She'd cared about him, he supposed, enough to sacrifice herself to Ganondorf, as she tried to do at the end. After all that they'd been through, it shouldn't have been out of spite anyways. He'd done everything to help her, him and Princess Zelda both. He groaned and slammed the log shut, and stacks his utensils within reach. Link didn't want to linger on his thoughts any longer, so he went to find something else that might preoccupy his time in a less harrowing way. When he found nothing in his house that might serve as a distraction, he contemplated going and helping Fado with the Ordon goats, but resolved against it, seeing as the Ordon Ranch was most likely closed today anyways, after last night's events, no doubt.
The hero yawned.
This morning, he'd gotten up with hopes of eventually working the tiredness out of his tight muscles, but the time was easing terribly close to midday, and he still felt as drowsy as he'd been when he had first awoke, so, he opted for a nap. He trudged to his bed after he realized his resolve to stay awake had completely dissipated, and fell onto it, barely allotting himself enough time to pull his blankets over him before falling asleep once more.
Ilia combed through her hair with her thin fingers as she stared into her reflection in her bedroom mirror, noticing her sandy blonde locks had lengthened terribly since she had last cut it, as it was presently hanging past her shoulders in small tangles. Link's old diary was tucked under one arm, and she moved her other one from her hair to her face, in order to trace the angles of her cheeks, regarding her features, specifically her flaws.
She had never saw herself as ugly until that moment, but now, she couldn't understand why she ever marked herself as a decent-looking girl.
She backed away from the glass, drew her lips in an unforgiving line, and grunted in disapproval.
"Is this why you no longer love me, Link?" she whispered to herself, still holding fast to the book, "am I not desirable anymore?"
She knew, even then, that she was only throwing a tantrum, and that it would pass soon. However, she needed to fume while she was alone in order to keep calm when around others, mostly Link. Ilia left the mirror, nearly throwing the journal at it. Her father, the mayor of Ordon, was standing outside of the door. Ilia nearly ran into him, but was able to stop herself before slamming into his large figure. He didn't seem fazed by the near collision, and continued to stare at her with a curious expression.
"Ilia," he said her name, and she took a step back and she felt heat rise to her face, hoping he hadn't heard what she'd said, though she didn't doubt that he, or the whole town for that matter, knew exactly what was going on with her, seeing as she hadn't gone to really any trouble to hide it from them. She scolded herself, knowing that she'd have to be more careful next time if she wanted to keep it hidden from Link.
"Yes, father?" her voice was small, as if she'd been caught committing a crime.
"Don't doubt your loveliness, my daughter," he spoke to her in a soft tone, before turning away. She sighed with acquiescence, and clung even more firmly to the book she'd been keeping with her, knowing that she'd been partially fortunate, seeing as her dad was yet to question her on what exactly the book was.
"Oh well…"
Link didn't sleep for long after he lay down, even though he'd been awake for the majority of the preceding night, so, for the remainder of the day, he cleaned the remaining remnants of clutter strewn about his home that he'd missed on his earlier cleaning spree the day after he got back. He allowed himself to lose his train of thought in his chore, and hummed a soft tune as he worked. It proved to be quite comforting, despite his earlier doubts, and in the end, a small smile grazed his lips.
The hero decided he'd spend more of his time now doing labor of some sort, until he found something of more worth to do with his life, that is. It helped him forget a lot easier, and maybe all he needed was a sense of duty. The smile fell from his face, and he immediately began to scold himself for wanting himself to be happy when he could just as well be making other people happy instead. That was what he'd been born for anyways, or so he felt.
He breathed, unsmiling, and began writing more in the diary he was avid to finish. He wondered what he would do when it was completed. He didn't think he could go back and reread it afterwards, for it pained him enough to write it in the first place, knowing that the contents of the book were the things that had eventually drained his spirit, and vivacity. He considered departing from Ordon once it was done, and leaving it behind for the others to eventually find. Link supposed that once they read it, they would understand why it was no longer possible for him to be happy.
Link had just finished his depiction of Princess Zelda, standing in solitude at the apex of the gloomy tower she'd been condemned to during the stress of the twilight, when a knock came at his door. The hero shut the book, and tucked it away before telling them that they could come in. The person carefully opened the door, and he was mildly surprised to see Fado, the other ranch hand, standing in its rough archway.
"Hello, Fado," Link greeted as Fado stepped closer to him, "How have you been?"
Fado grinned, and Link struggled to return the gesture.
"Better since you came back. Come to think of it, so has everyone else, especially Ms. Ilia," he added her name, and Link didn't doubt that his companion's words were true. He knew that she had missed him; they'd been close since the days of their childhood. Link nodded, good-humoredly, and offered Fado a seat.
"She waited out by the entrance from your house since you got back, you know?" he disclosed to Link, and this shocked the hero more than he liked to admit, but still kept his composure to a friendly level. Fado took the chair Link had suggested to him. He shrugged, trying to find words that would be appropriate in this conversation.
"I guess that's understandable, we've been close friends since we were young," Link dismissed it; even though he knew the discussion wasn't over between them. Fado flicked his eyes across the room, and leaned in to Link, saying the next words a bit quieter than his last.
"Word has been floating around the village that Ilia has got a bit more than friendship in mind, if you know what I mean," Fado divulged, and Link's eyes went a bit wide, but he concealed it before his companion noticed it.
Link did not say anything for a long moment, knowing that this was the reason for the visit, and also that this was the last thing he wanted at the moment, with all the stress of returning in itself, and knew he couldn't find it in himself to try and settle down, least of all with a woman at this point, especially because he was so unstable at the time. Fado noted the silence, and cleared his throat, secretly goading for Link to respond to the information.
"Is that so?" the hero finally said.
Fado nodded.
"Well, if she does, I'm blandished, but I don't know that I was ever meant to be with anyone in that sort," Link chuckled, "not after the past few months anyway."
The words seemed to deflate Fado a little bit, or so it appeared, but the man took it all in good stride, and was silent as he tried to understand the meaning behind Link's disheartened conjecture, but chose to ask him about it after he couldn't fathom why the hero would say such a thing.
"What have you been doing since you left, Link?"
"A lot."
Fado didn't doubt the truth of his companion's words, for Link's entire demeanor had changed for the worse. At first, Fado believed that Link had only aged a little since he disappeared from the village along with Ilia and the children, but he now knew that the newfound sharpness of his friend's face, and the lines etched into his arms and muscles were not present just because he had matured, but also because he'd been through anguish.
After a while, Link scooted his chair out from underneath the table, and stood from it wordlessly. Fado used the silence to observe the room. It was the same as he'd always remembered, but the disposition of it had contorted to fit the desperateness of its occupant, so much that the house's atmosphere was no longer serene, but instead, slightly perturbed.
"You don't have to stay here, my friend," Link said in a soft voice, causing Fado to look up from the wooden table.
"I find it comforting to be here," Fado slightly fibbed for the wellbeing of his friend, "unless, of course, you want me to leave, Link. I understand you're not too fond of company right now, particularly because you seemed so withdrawn at the festival last night," he mentioned after a tiny amount of deliberation. Link sighed.
"I like you here."
Fado didn't know whether to believe this, or not, judging by how detached Link seemed when he said it, but accepted it for the time being, because he'd missed his confidant tremendously, and desired to keep speaking with him, even with the despondency of the home.
"Well, that's good, I suppose, I missed you, you know?"
"Yeah."
Fado left after a while, leaving Link alone with only his thoughts once more. The hero didn't resent the solitude he took for granted before.
Link went to bed.
