A/N: Hey everybody. This is going to be my second chapter today, so please read and review. I'd like to know that people are reading this and enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it for you. It would really mean a lot to me to see some opinions or praise in general. But, please, no spamming. If you've got some constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it, but if you're just going to slam it, don't bother reviewing. Other than that, ROCK ON!!
P.S: In this section italics are used to symbolize flashbacks, thoughts, and emphasis.
The thunder rumbled on, and people squeezed under umbrellas as the priest concluded his sermon. He then invoked the goddesses to guide the spirit of the deceased to the Sacred Realm and guard over her on her journey. The pallbearers gently lowered the coffin into the earth, and began shoveling the dirt over the simply carved casket.
One by one, people slowly drifted back home until only Link remained. The boy of seven years stood over the grave, doing his best not to cry, and really not doing a good job of it. The rain drizzled on, leaving Link chilled to the bone. He started to walk away, but then turned around, his face streaming with wetness, whether from rain or tears, he did not know.
" I can be the man," he whispered, "You won't have to worry about me, Momma."
Link tossed and turned on his feather mattress, half asleep, but awake enough to know what came next.
He shivered from hunger as he shook his cup in front of those passing by. Some of them placed rupees in his cup, but most of them looked at him with contempt coloring their expression.
"Boy," they said, "why don't you get a job?"
Little that they knew he did have a job, several in fact, and that even together, he only made enough to barely survive. He was hoping that by picking up begging that he could save enough for a pillow. He was twelve at the time and was not entirely sure he cared whether he survived or not. All he had left was working. No family, no friends. Nothing.
Link muttered in his sleep, still tossing in a restless doze. This was over, he had left it behind. Hadn't he?
The old swordsman who took him in was a kindly person, with enough wisdom to match every wrinkle. He taught Link the way of the swordsman, and in no time at all, the fourteen year old became a master. But the sword was not the most important thing the kind old master had taught him.
" Son, remember that I didn't have to take you in, give you clothing, food, shelter. I saw you and took you in out of the kindness of my heart. And, let me tell you something, boy. I have never regretted that. You have become the son I never had."
Later, as the man, no, his father, started to slip into the eternal slumber, he had a lucid moment, and had clasped Link's hand.
" My son," he whispered, " Remember what I have done for you, and my last request to you is to do as I have done. One act of kindness can turn into the best decision you will ever make, as it did with me. Remember…."
"I will, my father," the sixteen year old Link promised, holding his father's trembling hand. His father smiled at him.
" I'm going on ahead of you," he whispered, "I'll see you later, boy." With that, he died.
On a day reminiscent of that one nine years ago, the thunder rumbled and the people of Kakariko Village took shelter under their umbrellas. The priest, the same one who had performed the services for his mother, concluded his sermon. He then invoked the goddesses to guide the deceased to the Sacred Realm and guard him on his journey there. The pallbearers gently lowered the coffin into the earth, and began shoveling the dirt over the simply carved casket.
One by one, the villagers slowly drifted back to their homes until only Link was left. This time, he did not cry. As he turned to leave, he looked back at the grave.
"I can be the man," he said with a small sad smile, " You won't have to worry about me, Dad."
With a gasp, Link awoke and sat up in bed. He thought he had put all of this behind him. What was weird ,though, was the fact that it had come to him in a nightmare. He hadn't had nightmares in years.
I don't have time for moonlit memories, he thought irritably, I need some restful sleep. Even though he told himself that, he knew he would not find any. Sometimes, sleep was like that. Whenever you needed a lot of it, it decided not to show up.
"Well, that's awfully kind of it," he murmured.
He stood up and sat in the chair by the window, picking up his lyre on the way. At first, he played mournful melodies, but as the night continued on, they gradually became more and more joyful. He could not explain why, but as dawn and the new day approached he felt a growing sense of anticipation. He knew he was leaving with Zelda today, but why he was so excited, he did not know. Maybe just being able to see new places.
Yeah, that's it, he thought, seeing new places.
He pushed that thought out his mind, and played until the sun made its daily appearance. Setting the lyre back in its case, he stood and took one last look at his room, knowing that this may be the last time he would ever see it.
No time for memories, he thought sadly. Steeling his heart, he went into the living room to meet Princess Zelda and his fate.
A/N: Ok, apparantly I lied about more action-packed and interesting. I just felt I needed a chapter to show some of his past and his reasons for the way he acts. I swear, though, the next one will have action of some sort.