The Legend of Zelda: Paradise Calling

Author's Notes:

Behold the creamy filling! Also back story.


Chapter 10: Song of an Angel: Part II


Surreal lights sparkled and danced eerily into the night sky, as if the very stars had taken flight. The sky itself was aglow with shimmering shades of pastel orange and yellow and red, creating the second twilight of the day.

Her ears perked at the strange sounds filling the night, like a thousand soldiers marching across a field of fallen leaves. The impossibly loud crackling sound was accompanied by the sounds of panicked, desperate people. Malon could hear her father and several of the hired hands yelling at the top of their lungs while the whinnies of frightened horses could be heard from the direction of the barn. She hugged her favorite stuffed animal tightly to her chest – a cream colored horse with only a single lonely button for an eye, the other having been lost long ago – and let the house door close quietly behind her before making her way towards the commotion.

Great white flakes were falling across the ranch in the surreal twilight, coating the grass and trees and buildings in a wonderful ivory powder. Malon giggled, delighted to see snowfall so early in the year. It was only mid-summer, but if snow was falling this early, then that would mean that she would probably get to play in lots and lots of it when it actually got cold.

It was odd though; she had never known snow to fall so early in the year. She felt a tickle of confusion, but was too enraptured with the magic in the night air to care. She danced in circles, arms spread and face pointed to the stars as she twirled with her stuffed horse tucked into the crook of her elbow. Her father had said that snow only fell during the winter, when it got really really cold. So of course this snow must be something special, because her father was the smartest man in the whole wide world in forever, and there was no way that he could be wrong.

She soon tired of spinning and began trying to catch a snowflake on her tongue. It was as hard as she remembered from last winter. The snow seemed to guess where Malon's open mouth was waiting for it, and danced and spun through the air to avoid her. She got several thick flakes on her cheeks, but after concentrating really hard she finally caught a flake on her tongue, and quickly clamped her mouth shut to capture her prize.

Blegh. This snow tasted ucky, and was warm and bitter. In fact, it didn't taste like snow at all. Instead of the expected biting sting of ice followed quickly by a cool trickle of water, her mouth tasted as if she had been licking a dusty floor. She tried that once and didn't like it at all.

The piercing cry of her mother shouting orders echoed across the ground, causing her to spin in fright, but it wasn't her that her mother was angry with, so that was good. She was curious though. Mommy almost never got angry. The last time she had seen her mother angry had been when a Bad Man came to the ranch, and her mother had thrown him over the wall. Malon rushed through the gates and towards the corrals, eager to see who was going to be punished now.

That was when she saw that the barn was on fire.

The barn – no … her barn, her favorite place in the whole world – was on fire, ablaze with a hauntingly beautiful, destructive light. Shock and curiosity mixed within her.

Wow…

She had never seen anything so wondrous. Malon dropped her stuffed horse and ran across the dew-dappled lawn towards the glow, amazed at how warm the brilliant light was even at this distance.

It's so pretty, she thought as she held out a hand towards the yellow and red embers, trying to catch the dancing light in her palm. A small, steaming clump of grass near where she was standing had ignited, spreading the raging inferno and leaving dark ashes in its wake. She reached for the glow, but recoiled quickly and gave a small cry as the heat became unbearable to her small fingers.

"Malon, stay back sweetie!"

She felt the air in her lungs leave her as strong, slender arms scooped her up around her waist, lifting her away from the dangerous blaze. She felt confused at first at the reprimand. Her parents had always indulged their daughter's curiosity, and the only time she was told to stay away from something was if it was dangerous. Why would her barn be dangerous?

"Mommy, what's going on? Why's there fire?" She asked, pointing in the direction of the barn with her stubby fingers.

As soon as they were a safe distance away, her mother put her down and knelt in front of her, taking her daughter's small face into her hands. "Malon, love, I need you to listen to me," her mother explained quickly, "The barn is on fire, and some of the horses are still stuck inside. I need to go help them and get them out."

Malon tried to focus on her mother's face, but the inferno behind her had hidden her features beneath shifting shadows. The flames leapt into the sky behind her, accenting her deep crimson tresses with shades of golden light. So pretty, just like an angel...

"Fire?" She asked, confused. Daddy said that fire was only supposed to be in the hearth or the stove. More importantly, the horses were strong. She had been taught from a young age that the horses were strong, much stronger than her, stronger than anyone, even her father. What could possibly hurt a horse? Her gaze darted back towards the inferno framing her mother, fear and realization freezing her eyes wide. This was a very, very Bad Thing.

"Whatever you do," her mother continued urgently, "Do not follow me, do you understand, love?" She asked breathlessly. When Malon didn't answer right away she asked again, her tone rising. "Do you understand me young lady?"

"Y-yes, Mummy," Malon replied, fighting back tears. Hurt and confusion smothered her earlier curiosity like a wet blanket. Mommy never raised her voice to her like that.

Sensing her mother's anxiety, she leapt into her mother's arms, pulling her into a fierce hug. Her mother rocked her back and forth, cooing sweet reassurances. The shadows parted for a moment, and Malon saw a tear slide down her mother's chin before silently dropping onto her proffered cheek. Her own tears soon followed, and her mother placed a comforting hand on her head, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be right back love, I promise. You've got to be a big girl for your mother. I'll be right back." Her mother's warm arms loosened, and she placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. "Be brave, Malon."

The cries of the frightened horses still trapped inside of the barn broke them from their hug, and Malon's mother ran for the barn, never looking back at her crying daughter. She dashed towards the doors, ignoring the tongues of flame that licked at her legs as she leapt through, ignoring the cries of protest from the farmhands and her beloved husband, and disappeared through the flaming portal.

"Mommy?" Malon called out, confused and scared. Why did she run into the burning barn like that? Hadn't Mommy just told her to stay away from it? What was going on? Wasn't the barn dangerous? Why would Mommy run into the barn if it was dangerous?

She could hear her mother inside of the barn yelling at the horses in the foreign tongue that her mother used whenever she was particularly angry. Suddenly, three horses shot through the burning doors in a desperate bid for freedom. The farmhands nearly dropped their buckets of water as they dodged out the way of the powerful beasts, more focused on containing the fire than trying to corral them. A fourth horse, a small new-born foal, followed her brethren as it darted from the barn in a panic, its soft brown coat and white mane singed and smoking.

It escaped just in time before a small chunk of the crumbling roof crashed to the ground right in front of the flaming door, blocking any hope of escape for those still trapped inside.

Malon stumbled forward in shock. "Mommy, come back! Come— Aaah!" She screamed at the sight, her words cut off as the first part of the barn began its inevitable fall.

The sound of crumbling timbers was deafening as the roof collapsed, the flames having already eaten through the broad support pillars. Embers raced into the sky by the scores of thousands, looking like the bright pyreflies that would occasionally grace Lake Hylia's shores with their eerie glow. The cries of the dozen people futilely trying to douse the fire could be heard over the carnage as the entire building collapsed, the weakened walls buckling under the immense weight, sending great plumes of sparks and embers into the sky.

"Mommy? Mommy?" Her mother's last words to her echoed in her ears, 'Be brave, Malon…' Tears streaked down her ash-stained cheeks. I'm a big girl, I've got to be brave for Mommy… "Mo— Mother?" She cried, racing towards the flaming wreckage, only to be caught up in Talon's arms. She screamed and kicked at her father, trying but unable to break his powerful grip. He hugged her desperately as she fought him, refusing to let her go.

Malon gave one final kick against his desperate grip. Why was he stopping her? She had to save her mother! "Let me go! Mother, come back! Mother!"

"Mother!"


"Mother!"

Malon screamed as she jolted upright from her bed, her hands reaching into the darkness as if to clench her fingers around the last, lingering wisps of her dream.

She slumped forward as the sudden tension drained from her body, gasping for air. Perspiration soaked her camisole, causing it to cling to the curves of her body as she threw back the covers and shakily swung her long legs out over the floor.

It was … only a dream. But I haven't had that dream in so long. And it was so much more … vivid … this time. So real...

She cupped her face in her hands as her body began to shake from the adrenalin draining from her system. Why again? Why tonight? She could remember a time when she had relived that dream every night for months on end. Eventually it had faded, but it came back to her occasionally, first when Castle Town had been burned to the ground, then when her father fell sick and she feared of losing him as well.

Over time though she found that the dream was slowly fading. Pieces would become fuzzy and indistinct, or even missing completely. She couldn't remember a time in the last seven years that it had been so fresh, so visceral. The only thing that had been different was...

She blinked in shock. Why couldn't she remember her mother's face?

Malon shot to her feet in a panic and rushed across the room to the nightstand. No, no, nonono...

She knelt in front of her nightstand and threw open the lower drawer. Blindly she dug through her clothes in the dark, searching by memory for what she knew lay beneath her folded skirts: A rare pictograph of her mother when she was pregnant with Malon, something that her father had sprung for when they had had the money for such frivolous things. Ingo had thrown it across the kitchen in one of his drunken rages, and so its place of honor was no longer on the table in the evening room but hidden beneath her work clothes in a dusty old nightstand, neglected if not forgotten.

She knew she would not find what she desired. Years of sitting on the table in direct sunlight had faded parts of the pictograph to near-transparency. Enough remained though to give her hope. Her fingers closed around the frame and she ripped it from the drawer, carelessly spilling her clothes out onto the floor in her haste. She turned and rushed for the window, thrusting the pictograph into the pane of pale moonlight and squinted against the glare through the cracked glass.

Nothing, just as she already knew. The pictograph was of her mother in profile, sitting on the pane of this very window when this room was being prepared as a nursery, staring out into the ranch, her arms wrapped protectively, lovingly around the swollen bulge of her pregnant belly. Sadly, time and sunlight had eaten away at the top of the pictograph until there was almost nothing left above her mother's shoulders. If she looked closely and tilted it at just the right angle, Malon thought that she could just barely make out the strong curve of her jaw, the curled, deep crimson coif of her hair, but no matter how hard she looked she could not find her mother's face in those blank spaces.

She sat back and slumped in defeat into the writing desk's chair, the pictograph clattering to the table as she felt the burning sting of tears swell in her eyes. It had been over ten years since her mother had been taken from her, and yet she felt as if that wound were ready to reopen at any second.

It wasn't fair. But then, how much of her life over the years had ever been based on fairness?

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, watching as the moonlight slowly crawled across the desk, but after a while she found that she no longer wished to sleep. She cupped her chin in her hands and stared through the dirty windowpane, watching the grass in the field slowly sway in the night wind. She looked up at the waxing moon, its bright luminescence bathing everything in soft, ethereal light, then shivered against the cool night air.

I wonder how late it is? She thought hazily, realizing that while her camisole was now cool and damp from her sweat, her mouth was as dry as the hottest desert.

Maybe a glass of water will help to calm my nerves…

Groggily, she stood and threw on a long cotton nightgown, then inhaled deeply, steadying her breathing before she unlocked and opened the door to her room. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she made her way down the shadowy hallway to the bathroom. The light from the moon shone through the window at the far end of the hall, which was filtered through an old dead tree just outside the ranch walls, and illuminated a small square patch of bare floorboards, revealing in stark relief the disturbingly claw-like characteristics of the bare limbs.

The rest of the hall was as dark as pitch; it looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of inky black paint that had seeped into every nook and cranny. Her careful footsteps caused the ancient wooden floorboards to groan, and the shadows of the monstrous tree danced in the evening breeze with a low, almost otherworldly sound that faintly reminding her of a rhyme that she had heard long ago:

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
I didn't see him again today,
Oh, how I wish he'd go away.

She made her way to the bathroom without incident and reached for the sink, turning the intricately carved handle towards her. Another of her parents renovations, back when the ranch was more successful. Cool, crisp water flowed into the basin. She cupped her hands under the flow of water and brought it to her face, letting the chill of the water calm her jittery nerves. She cupped her hands again, refilling her impromptu cup before bringing her hands to her mouth for a drink.

She turned off the running water and was drying her hands and face on a handtowel when her ears perked. She turned towards the window as the breeze shifted, buffeting the house and quieting the noise.

There it was again. Sweet, melodious music, coming from outside of the bathroom window. What on earth? She carefully stepped up onto the rim of the tub and cracked open the window, listening intently as the soothing music became louder, more crisp. She breathed in sharply, recognizing the tune.

That's my song!

She closed the window and barely managed to keep herself from running down the hall. The floorboards creaked loudly as she walked, and she winced when she heard sounds and muttered curses coming from Ingo's room.

Oh please, no, not right now...

She had almost managed to make it past when the door cracked open. The smell of long stagnant dust, moldy cheese, and cheap ale drifted from the room, and her breathing became shallow as she turned. His sunken eyes stared back at her from the gloom, shining like glass beads in the dark.

"What're you doing up this early?" he asked suspiciously. "Thinkin' of sneaking out? Gonna go pay the stablehand a midnight visit?"

Subconsciously, she crossed her arms across her chest. In reality, it didn't make a difference, since her simple cotton gown wasn't the least bit revealing. But ever since that night he had cornered her in the barn she had felt increasingly defensive around him.

"N-no, I just needed a glass of water," she said, carefully avoiding the fact that she was no longer just returning to her room.

He seemed to think this over for a moment before giving an irritable, drunken huff. "Well, quit making all that racket, bitch, or else I'll throw you outside." He slammed the door shut before she could reply.

Malon gently laid her head against the wall as the full absurdity of his threat washed over her, then continued on. Before she knew it she was outside, her sandals slapping against the soles of her feet as she ran swiftly over the dew covered grass and though the gate. A light fog had sprung up, swirling around her skirt as she went.

Where is it coming from? She paused, listening. Her head turned, her ears perking as she followed the music. Behind the barn! She slowed and quietly she made her way forward, her nightmare inching back from the darkest corners of her mind.

It wasn't the same building where her mother had died. It wasn't even in the same place, the original's footprint having occupied the northern border of the ranch where now only scorched rock and a fallow field mark its passing. The barn they were using now was originally the old barracks, converted to storage and sleeping quarters when her parents had first acquired the ranch. Even so, her fond memories of the new would forever be linked with the nightmares of the old. Although the old barn had burnt to the ground, in a way, in her mind at least, the spirit of what it was lived on in its current incarnation.

The barn, for her, was a place of memories, both pleasant and painful.

The barn, where she had spent most of her childhood helping her parents care for the animals and playing with the customer's children. It was also the place where she had last held her mother, begging her not to go.

Where she had spent many of her happiest carefree days learning how to ride and care for her beloved horses.

Where she had stood in silent horror as she watched her mother die.

But now, sweet music filled the air, drawing her back to this place that was full of such conflicting memories. The tone was beautiful, and she felt the faint stirrings of familiarity suggesting that she had heard this particular music before. But the thought merely brushed against her like a passing wraith, unable to find purchase in her memories.

The crackling of the grass underfoot was the only other sound that she could hear as she made her way along the outer wall. Even the nocturnal insects were unusually silent, their lack of chirruping adding to the dream-like quality of the night. As she approached, the music paused in mid-tune, a surreal silence permeating the crisp night air. She quickly ducked back behind the corner of the barn, praying that whatever had been playing the music had not heard her.


Link couldn't sleep. As he tossed and turned in the hayloft, his mind kept wandering back to earlier in the evening when he had joined Malon in the horse paddock. He hadn't been conscious of the implications at first, but he had slowly realized that sitting behind her had been a rather intimate move on his part, and had worried that she might become uncomfortable, but the ease with which she had relaxed against him had surprised him.

Malon was always so tense when she was in public. She often kept her metaphorical shield raised even if it was just the two of them alone together, but last night was so different from her usual behavior that he wasn't quite sure what to think.

However, her sudden reticence at the end of his story and the ambiguity of her thoughts had driven his worry back in full force. She had seemed about to say something important, but pulled back at the last moment. Had she recognized him? He had thought for the longest time that she had forgotten all about him, but now he wasn't so sure. If by chance she did remember him from seven years ago, but was keeping it to herself, what would happen if she were to bring it out into the open?

The worst part was that he was now well and truly stuck. If he came out and revealed himself to her, she might accuse him of intentionally hiding it from her, or worse, stalking her. However, if he waited until she brought it up, he might be in an even worse position. Last night was the first sign of her really opening up and the last thing he wanted was to drive her back into her shell.

He sat up and threw back the covers, deciding that lying here in bed wasn't going to give him the answers he sought. He grabbed his shield and climbed out of the window so as not to wake the animals in the barn, dropping to the wagon parked below.

He sat and crossed his legs lotus-style on the bench, then drew the Ocarina of Time from his shield, smiling sadly as he ran his fingers over the sky-blue porcelain. There were so many in the world that depended on him not screwing up. Malon, Sheik, the Princess Zelda … too many. Far too many. And here he was, stuck, without a helping hand or a smidgeon of a clue to guide him.

So he did what he always did when he needed time to think, to clear his head of worries.

He began to play.

A soothing calm washed over him as he rested his fingers in the familiar pattern around the instrument and placed it to his lips. The music was slow at first as he began his warm-up routine. He hadn't practiced since he had arrived at the ranch, so he took his time going through the exercises that Saria had taught him. Eventually he began running through his repertoire, as usual leaving out a few key notes to avoid activating any of the magical songs.

Since his earlier thoughts had been so focused on his ever-growing list of problems, it was only appropriate, really, to practice Malon's song. It was among his favorites to play, since it was a slower song and had always had a calming effect on his nerves. No bolts of inspiration for his problems struck out of the blue while he played, but at least it made him feel better.

He wondered if he should join her the next time he found her singing.

He was nearly finished with his second play-though when his ears perked. He couldn't say what exactly had caught his attention, but his senses were telling him that something had changed in the environment. Link looked up from his ocarina, listening intently, his senses ringing with the last lingering sound of his song. He closed his eyes, shuttering his mind to all distractions. He had learned how to do this a long time ago, back when the first deku babas started appearing in the forest, and this particular skill had served him well in his temple delving adventures.

His breathing nearly stopped as he entered a calming state, his body becoming relaxed as he focused on his surroundings. His sensitive ears could now pick out the softest of sounds, from the wind blowing across the open fields, to flutter of the wings of a passing moth … to the hushed footsteps of a farmgirl scrambling for cover.

He huffed, snapping out of his trance as he realized that his music had not gone unheard. A grimace crossed his features as a new thought came to mind. If she doesn't already suspect me, the fact that I know that song so well would do it...

He quietly reached for his shield and replaced the ocarina, then shifted his palm. Withdrawing his hand from the ancient scroll, he drew with it an old tool he had recovered several months back from the Kakariko Graveyard. Now to make my daring getaway…


Malon crouched at the corner of the building, her ears perked as she listened, hoping that whoever or whatever was playing her song would continue. Her prayers were not answered, however, when she heard a loud clank, followed by the ratcheting mechanical sound of hydraulic chains. A shiver ran down her spine, her thoughts turning back to the ghost stories that some of the old farmhands had once told her, of haunted spirits laden with chains and hooks and a taste for vengeance.

Silence once again reigned as the metallic sounds stopped. What was that?

She remained in her crouch for what seemed like forever, her thighs burning and her throat dry as she waited to make sure that whatever had making that sound was well and truly gone. Courage soon returned to her as she stood and crept around the corner of the barn, slowly inching her way towards the far side. She inhaled deeply to steady herself before peeking around the last corner.

Nothing. There was no one there. Confused and with her fear forgotten, she straightened and walked around the corner, scanning the ground and wagon for any clue as to what had been playing such lovely music.

Nothing, not even a single footprint.

Another shiver ran down her spine at the thought of prowling ghosts haunting her farm came to mind. Her fingers itched for the comforting weight of her crossbow, which was stashed back in the house, then felt silly for it. It was a fine deterrent for the occasional marauding drunk … but what in the world could it possibly do against something that was already dead? Maybe, if brought to bear against real ghosts, a few bolts would at least make them burst into laughter so hard that she would be able to escape.

"Well … so long as they're not stealing the cows…" she joked quietly to herself.

She shivered again as she continued scanning the ground, drawing her arms around herself as she realized how cool the night air really was. Was it really only three weeks ago that she had been swimming in a river in order to cool off? Autumn was making its presence known with a vengeance, and in only a couple of short months winter would be upon them. If it got any colder at night, they might actually have to start worrying about the first frost. The very thought was hard to believe, but then Hyrule had always had some wild swings in weather.

She wandered the grounds for a minute before making her way across the field to a bare spot that had long lay fallow at the northern corner of the ranch, rubbing her arms to warm herself. For years this patch of land had borne the scars of that violent night, but eventually they had cleared away the wreckage and Din had been allowed to retake what was rightfully Hers.

The grave was plain, with two thin stone columns that they had salvaged from the wreckage leaned together to create a simple triangle, the traditional marker for those that could not afford the more lavish tombstones. There had been nothing left to bury, the fire having consumed everything down to the last support pillar, though that hadn't stopped them from memorializing the spot.

Malon was silent as she crouched in front of the grave. There was nothing to say as she studied the simple stone structure – at least, nothing that she hadn't already said. She had made her peace with her mother long ago. As a child she had always felt that her mother was watching over her from wherever souls went when they died, but those thoughts had faded with age, to be replaced by the simple feeling of fond memories.

She turned and stood as a sudden thought occurred to her. Could it have been Link? He did hear me singing earlier…

She strode quickly across the grounds, and within seconds she had crept inside the barn and was stealthily climbing up the ladder to Link's loft, eager to see for herself if he was the culprit. She paused when she reached the top, peeking cautiously over the edge of the balcony, ready to pull her head back down if he was … indecent. Luckily he had the covers pulled up to his shoulders, his steady breathing causing the heavy blanket to rise and fall with each breath.

She felt a pang of frustration, disappointed to find that her guess had been incorrect. His face was peaceful, with a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. She studied him for a while, content to watch him sleep. After several moments he muttered to himself in his sleep and rolled over, drawing the blanket closer to his head.

He must be dreaming, she thought. I wonder what about…

Malon sighed and descended the ladder, the cause of the music still a mystery. Frustrated, she jumped and slid down the last three rungs. Well, it's not like I expected it—

"Eep!" She jumped about a foot into the air with fright when Epona snorted behind her, curiously poking her head out of her stall.

"Epona, don't do that to me!" she whispered desperately to the mare as she spun, trying not to wake any of the other animals.

Epona grunted, shaking her luxurious white mane apologetically.

Malon couldn't help but smile as she reached out and rubbed her hand along the horse's jaw. Epona was unusually intelligent, even for her Gerudo bloodlines. Sometimes it seemed as if the horse could really understand what was being said to her.

Her smile faded as she felt herself suddenly overcome by emotion. She reached out gently, her hands finding their familiar place around the mare's neck as she reached over the stall door and gave her horse a gentle hug. Her fingers brushed against the small burn scar near the nape of Epona's neck, remnant of a piece of flaming timber that had struck her long ago.

A silent tear made its way down Malon's cheek, dropping onto Epona's brown coat.

"At least I still have you, Epona," she whispered to the mare.

She stayed like that for several long moments. Epona remained quiet, sensing her master's distress. Eventually Malon broke from the hug, running a hand along the horse's jaw. "Who knows?" she asked speculatively. "Maybe … maybe it was an angel…"

Wiping the unshed tears from her eyes, Malon turned, scanning the barn one more time, still curious as to what had created such beautiful music.

With a final pat on Epona's cheek and a quiet "Good night," she turned and left, quietly sliding the barn door closed behind her, never noticing the pair of cool cobalt-blue eyes that silently watched her from above.


When the rains come again,
And the sun hides its face,
I think of you,
Oh, I dream of you,

If I could only turn back the clock,
And grasp your hand one last time,
I would live for you,
I would die for you,
If Time would only let me.

~Excerpt from "A Memory Through Time", translated from Old Hylian
Original author unknown


REVIEW, curse yar lazy bones!

Ciao!
Raynre Valence – Sage of Time