Chapter Eleven

Hateno Village

Brushing aside a persistent hair that kept falling in front of Zelda's eyes, the Princess of Hyrule spent her evening enjoying the cool costal breeze that had come over the rounding hills of the Hateno province, finding its many sights and sounds to be calm and soothing. The cicadas and crickets chirped and hummed in the nearby tall grass with every stomp of her horse's hooves, sending them scattering wildly, and the birds above flew back to their nesting places among the blooming trees in preparation for the coming nightfall.

Zelda had never been this far south before, though she had studied countless maps and books that detailed the lay of the land and all its native fauna and flora. It was an interesting study to say the least, one the Princess took up shortly after she and her Knight had come upon friendlier terms that winter. It was all done in the hopes of learning even a little bit more about what her mysterious guardian's life must have been like before he was called forth by the Blade.

And given the spectacle before her, she determined it was surely a pleasant life here.

Her studies of the region hadn't done Hateno justice. Try as they may, books and maps simply couldn't describe the way the wind felt on your face, or the way the dew of the green field and hills smelled quite as well as actually being there yourself to experience such sensations. True, Hyrule field had many similar sounds and feelings and smells, but Hateno was uniquely different in the faintest of ways.

The Princess made sure to take plenty of photographs on her Sheikah Slate, rendering the countryside in true-to-life colors and shape, no detail left blemished or uncaptured. An amused smile slipped across her lips.

In short, she was having a rather wonderful time on their trip through the winding gravel roads of Sir Link's last homeland, though she could not say how he himself felt on the matter. As usual, he had taken to silence for the last few hours of their trip, donning a face that couldn't be described as plain or expressive, which made it hard to guess what he was thinking. Harder than usual that is.

Still, she wasn't sure what to make of his behavior lately, and why he was so hesitant in coming to Hateno. No amount of cunning questions or schemes could get a satisfactory answer out of him, but Zelda hadn't lost all hope yet. After all, soon she'd have the upper hand on him: access to people who knew Link personally long before he became the Hero.

"You know these fields well, yes?" the Princess asked, hooking her Sheikah Slate at her hip. "It must have been fun exploring all the little hidden places and forests here." Link considered her for a moment, dull eyes giving way to a hint conviviality.

"Yes… Days I didn't spend hunting, I was on countryside, plowing, herding, and mending for the local ranchers. Anything that needed doing, I suppose. It kept me busy."

"Hard but honest work," Zelda agreed. "I'm sure your employers are missing you now, they must have lost a diligent worker."

"I don't believe so," he replied assuredly, strangely seeming to take a small pride in that fact. "There's always young sons and grandsons to take up the slack here, I'm confident they've done just fine without me. They are a hardy people―resilient and stubborn to a fault."

"Stubborn to a fault?" the Princess joked. "If that's the case then I can see now where you get it from."

Link furrowed his eyebrows dissentingly at her, which was exactly the sort of face she had expected he would make. Which made it all the more amusing. Of course, he didn't deny it resoundingly, that would have only proven her point, so instead the young Hero stuck to what he knew best and simply thinned his lips, eyes squinting as he did. She found it rather endearing.

The village gates came into view right about then; the smell of chimney smoke grew distinctly stronger with every step, and upon their entry a number of benevolent faces turned to look at them with mixtures of stark surprise and utter fascination. Some even blinked profusely, as if they weren't sure their eyes were seeing truth.

A brawny young man with skin darkened by years spent tending fields was the first to approach them, pulling off his brimmed hat and hesitantly fiddling with his appearance. Bright blue eyes danced between the Princess and Hero, till at last he asked, "Link, is that really you? Hylia above you look like a new man."

Swiftly hopping down from his horse, Link landed at the brawny man's feet, barely standing tall enough to even look over the man's shoulders. "It's me, Tal," he assured the man, clapping a firm hand over the farmers arm, only to be unceremoniously pulled into burly hug rivaling that of a Goron.

Zelda couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh," Tal exclaimed, quickly releasing Link to offer an awkward and unpracticed bow before shouting, "I'm sorry, your―um―?"

"Highness," Link whispered.

"Oh! Your Highness… we've never had a princess around these parts… 'suppose I've never had to bow before! Very sorry about that. Um―welcome to Hateno Village." The silly man continued to fiddle with the front of his sun-beaten shirt, as if he was worried it was too dirty to be presentable.

"Its quite alright," Zelda replied with a smile she hoped would ease his nervousness before swinging a leg over her saddle and stepped down to meet the young man on a more even level. In the end the difference seemed the same, only favoring Tal's side. The man had quite an imposing stature, but his manners spoke of sincere gentility.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Tal. I hope our arrival will not disrupt the town's comings and goings." Even now as she spoke, a crowd of curious villagers began approaching, all with the same hesitant and hopeful gleaming eyes that Tal approached with.

"Are you kidding?" Tal laughed abruptly, once again pulling Link in with a burly arm over his shoulders, crushing the young man. "We've not had anything as exciting as this in months, Princess, you best bet we're going to throw a party. Right everyone?" Striving with new sanguine confidence, Tal turned to the crowed and with a voice that boomed as loud as a town crier, he declared:

"Come on everyone, Link is home, and he brought a Princess with him!"

And you wouldn't believe the sight of it all! Zelda hardly believed it herself. All in an instant it was if the whole village had appeared before them in a great jubilant crowd that cheered and laughed as they piled in around Link and Zelda and their horses, showering them both with grand 'welcome's' and 'howdya-do's,' shaking hands, embraces, and dipping into awkward bows and curtsies.

Never before had Zelda received such a hospitable―and perhaps a touch over the top―welcome, not even in Zora's Domain or Goron Village!

Poor old Link looked as if he would implode from all the attention… that or he was running out of air to breathe, considering how each and every local seemed to strangle him in a tight hug. His face was redder than she had ever seen it. Why, even the little ones seemed to remember him well, and demanded that he pick them up for a proper greeting.

The Princess tried to listen in on what the villagers were saying to Link with open smiles and laughter, but it was all washed out by another ten or twenty laughing and talking in waves. She wondered if this was why he wanted to avoid reaching Faron through Hateno Village. Link never did seem to enjoy many eyes on him. Even at the Winter's Ball earlier that year he snuck around the outskirts of the party to avoid conversation.

It was a wonder he asked her to dance at all that night.

And so, with a thunderous roar of voices, Link and Zelda gradually worked their way further into the village as the locals continued to swarm them, bogging Link down with endless questions the Princess was dying to hear but could not. She had her own swath of questions to answer from the bolder locals. Her mouth began to feel dry from the heat and all the talking, and at one point she lost the reins of her horse, but a kind stranger was quick to capture it again and offered to tie it up wherever she pleased.

Zelda supposed he was a groom of some sort, given his confidence and ease with such an imposing animal―especially with one as stubborn and skittish as hers―so she left the man to it, betting and hoping on his trustworthiness. In the end she had nothing to worry about, as at last there came relief in the thick crowd, and they reached the town center where a lovely quaint inn awaited them. Both her horse and Link's were cared for and unsaddled before being tied off to the porch rails, nickering and clicking with relief now that they didn't have a hundred hands brushing past them.

The little ones showered Zelda's horse with secret gifts of red apples and oats, though, enamored by the beauty of its snow-white coat and crystalline eyes. The dipy steed didn't have any qualms with that, mind you.

Lanterns had already been lit by then, as the sun had only just fallen below the mountain peaks, casting long shadows on the village, giving the inn a warm and welcoming appeal, and although the common room was nearly empty when they first arrived, each and every chair, table, and corner seemed to fill up with droves of bubbling smiles.

A seat was given to the Princess at the forefront of the room, where she could scan the crowd freely.

It took a moment for Zelda to find her Knight lost among the mob, but she did find him eventually. The boy, still flush and preoccupied with a dozen questions pouring at him all at once, had a tankard shoved into his hand by then, though he could hardly enjoy it without someone coming along and clapping him on the back, sloshing his ale all over his tunic.

It had to have been the funniest spectacle the Princess had ever seen.

She did catch Link's eye for a moment, though, and he blew a puff of air, shaking his head ever gently as if he himself were surprised by their exuberant welcoming. But before long he was once again preoccupied by another villager dumping endless questions upon him. Zelda wondered if she had ought to try saving the poor boy, but she had mind again to simply enjoy the show.

Lucky for him, however, this great tavern chaos eventually found the semblance of order as one voice shouted out over the crowd to hush them. It was the mayor of the town, Zelda decided, though he did not introduce himself as such. With a balding head and a neatly kempt vest that was tight around his enormous belly, he made for a picturesque mayor in her mind, and he had the character to match.

"Quiet down, quiet down," he cried, taking his stand on an old wobbly stool and sticking his hands in his vest pockets. "There we are. That's more like it." The townsfolk fell into a hush, eager to hear what the Mayor had to say. "Forgive me for my tardiness," he began, giving an honest go at sounding proper. "I came as soon as I caught word of our surprise guests."

Giving the Princess his attention and a jolly smile, he bowed expertly from atop his stool, never once faltering in his balance.

"Your Highness, you do our village a great honor with your presence, though I fear our people were not exactly well―em―decorous in their greetings. I offer my sincerest apology if we have offended you in any way."

"Not at all," Zelda answered loudly for all to hear, much to their relief. "It was actually rather amusing; I am delighted to have been welcomed so kindly. I can only hope we have not disrupted your daily lives too much, as I am sure you are all very busy folk." Reassuring murmurs and excusive hums passed among the villagers, putting Zelda's worry to rest.

"Here in Hateno, work to be done can be done another day, dear Princess," the Mayor summarized. "It only takes a little more perseverance in the morning, and a touch harder work, nothing we can't handle! No, tonight is a special occasion, and that means more ale for Link, and a lovely vintage wine for our Princess." A cheer arose from across the tavern bar, where the tender vanished into her cellar, no doubt to dig up the finest bottle she could find.

Zelda didn't even try to decline the offer, though a glass of wine was the last thing she wanted after a warm day of riding. Something just told her the villagers wouldn't take no for an answer, so she simply smiled, and graciously accepted the gift. Naturally an assortment of other various drinks was passed among the villagers old enough to drink, and before long the Mayor declared a toast.

"To the return of the Village Hero," he shouted, lifting his glass high. "And to the Princess of Hyrule, may she live long and well under Hylia's watchful eyes." With a breath he downed his share in one great gulp. Zelda noted Link's interesting honorific title… there was something very personal about it, as if the Mayor meant that he was more than just the 'Hero,' of all Hyrule… No, it was something more than that.

"Now, enough out of me, let us hear from Link―oh, now don't give me that look, lad, you shirked us all at the last Harvest Festival―now up you go, come along." To Zelda's endless amusement, Link was practically hoisted up by his companions, and set up on the stool the Mayor had vacated for him, and now only standing a head or two taller than the villagers he had the chance to furrow his eyebrows at the whole lot of them.

They didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Speech!" some shouted, "tell us what adventures you've been on," others cried, but generally most wanted to know what life at the Castle was like, and though he mulled there questions over with a tight-jawed expression, it looked like he would answer them. Sitting from her proud perch, rather enjoying the fact that they were hardly paying her any attention now, Zelda eagerly leaned forward, brimming with anticipation. This was far better an advantage than she could have ever hoped for.

"Life at the Castle is fine," he said plainly and slowly. "…The food is excellent…"

A terse, unbearable silence settled in.

"Hylia above, you haven't changed at all Link," a giggly heckler said from the back, and the crowd broke into a well-intended laughter at the Hero's expense. "Tell us more! What's it like havin' servants and maids?"

Link's face furrowed in puzzlement.

"I don't have any servants..." he explained, as if that should have been an obvious matter of fact. "There is a laundry maid though. Not sure she appreciates how many tunics I've ruined."

"That's not true," Zelda chimed in, adding to fun. "That little wash maid just adores you." And that fact was plain enough to see. Amilia, the silly girl, was just short of smitten with the Hero, though she did not have the courage to admit it. A harmless sentiment that was, she was but a little girl, but the fact still remained. You could see it in her shy smiles and nervous glances.

Nevertheless, Link narrowed his eyes doubtfully, electing to ignore such a suggestion.

"We've been on the road mostly since spring arrived," he continued. "I'm afraid we won't be here long. We leave in the morning to Faron Woods." The villagers didn't quite gasp at that, but there did come a palpable worrisome feeling that settled over the room. One woman, with a swaddled child tucked in the crook of her arm, voiced her concern, saying, "Whatever for? Faron's dangerous woods, even for you, dear."

Sir Link's cautious eyes moved to the Princess, as if worried that he had spoken out of turn. Zelda shook her head, assuring him of no wrongdoing, but the attention of the room fell on her all the same with curious gazes… She hesitated to reply.

Perhaps, the Princess mused, she should have not be so readily amused by Link being put under the same open interrogation, it felt far worse being on the other end of that mess. Luckily though, Link took the charge on answering the woman's question… and by Hylia she felt something strange stir in her chest as he did. It was a simple declaration really, in Sir Link's plain words, but there was something so very reassuring about it.

"The Princess," he began in an assertive―but not forceful―tone, "is courageously undertaking a pilgrimage, you see. There is an ancient prayer pool buried deep in that jungle; I've stumbled upon it once before in my travels, and I am certain it can be found again. Now I cannot say I know what it is we'll do when we get there, but I have faith Princess Zelda will find purpose or answers for herself and take the next step towards fulfilling her duty."

The room contemplated his answer for a while, and then seemingly all at once they made up their minds on the matter, and put their trust in his words, nodding and offering encouragements to the Princess, as if it was just the thing she should do. Some locals inquired further, however still not quite understanding what the purpose of the Princess's pilgrimage was, but Link was quick to explain the situation in terms they seemed to grasp.

It was strange seeing that change come over him… As soon as the subject matter no longer surrounded himself, he had no reservations or stoic dispositions about it, he simply answered in cool and collected words. He truly was a peculiar man, Zelda mused. Peculiar indeed, but she was very grateful then to call him her Knight and friend.

For the better part of an hour Link remained standing on that wobbly stool that he had been imprisoned on, answering all sorts of odd questions about his recent adventures. And of course, Zelda took the liberty of interjecting facts and excerpts he tried very hard gloss over, with decidedly humorous results.

She could have sworn his skin flushed on more than one occasion. A wonderful result indeed! Purah would be proud.

Link spoke of their trip up Death Mountain, and Zelda told the crowd of how he fearlessly faced down a horde of monsters. He spoke of meeting Daruk, the mighty Goron, and Zelda added how they threw a grand party and got Link so drunk he passed out sitting. He spoke of Zora's Domain and its beauty in the late spring evenings, the frigid mornings and sunny days spent in the high places of Rito Village, he told them all from his own perspectives. Some perspectives not even the Princess had the privilege of hearing before.

"Daruk," he acclaimed, to the children's wide-eyed wonder, "is taller than a horse, as wide as a house, and stronger than Mister Tam's oxen." A willowy man with a straw hat in the crowd beamed with pride and gave a small cheer, pleased to have been mentioned in passing in the Hero's tale.

"Mipha," Link noted in gentler tones. "There's not a scratch or bruise she can't heal, or a burden she'll leave tended to alone."

"Revali," he said with a firm―and perhaps competitive―respect. "A hard and experienced warrior he is. I doubt there's any Hylian that could ever best him in archery."

"Urbosa." He gave an accentuated pause. "Cunning and wise. She gave me more than a handful of riddles I could have never dreamed of solving on my own."

He spoke in further detail of Gerudo Valley too, though Zelda spared him the shame of telling the crowd of his little adventures in feminine disguise. No, not even Link was aware that the Princess knew that little truth, but she had no intentions of ever using it against him. The same could not be said of Urbosa, however. She was quite proud of that scheme and threw her head back to roar with laughter when she recounted it.

Thinking back now, it really was quite funny, though near impossible to imagine.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the word 'Yiga' came up, and with it came the dull pull of sensitive emotions in Zelda's chest…. It was a topic she hoped would have been avoided.

But she was at Link's mercy now, regarding that whole mess. The Yiga attack was by her own naïve ignorance, and that meant she couldn't throw a fit about it. She would be deserving of any ill feelings sprung up from the telling of that tale. In her eyes, it was her action alone that needlessly put them both in danger that day.

But Link never did tell…

"The Yiga," he said in a serious tone. "They're dangerous people. Urbosa's maidens managed to get a tight grip of them and washed them out of their den."

"Did you have a run in with them, dear?" a concerned grandmotherly figure asked, clutching a shawl around her as if it were a cold winter's day. Many others hummed similar concerns.

"Only a small one," he lied expertly, a knowing glance finding the Princess's eyes. "No one was hurt, though I'm sure those Yiga will think twice before getting crossing blades with the Gerudo… those women are as fierce as any soldier I've seen."

And that was that. Link never told them any more. He never told them of the men he killed by his own hand, of the blood that stained his tunic red, of the danger he was put in. He never told them that the whole reason he had to do it was because one Princess's own selfishness.

She would have to thank him for that later. Earnestly.

And that chance came sooner than she had expected. Being all crammed into one small tavern, the air inevitably became hot and stuffy, so under the scrupulous directing of the town Mayor, they all cleared back out into the grassy village square, where a makeshift bonfire was hastily thrown together to light their merry little midnight party, and they danced and sang to their hearts content as the night grew deeper and darker.

Fireflies darted madly about in the pitched black of the spring night and what young ones that were still awake set chase, hoping to capture one for themselves and learn of what great magic made them shine. Zelda had half a mind to join them, fireflies were an interesting species to exam, though it was rather impossible to study them without proper magnification lenses, unless…

Her train of thought was interrupted when Link suddenly flopped down beside her in the dewy grass, having finally managing to free himself from the incessant―though markedly thinning―crowd. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

"Had you fill already?" the Princess said, grinning impishly. Link grunted groggily, but with some small amusement. "You did well, though. I've never seen you talk so much."

"I've never been hounded for answers quite so relentlessly," he replied. "Not even you and Purah combined could compare to… that." The Princess choked on laughter, though she tried to cover her smile when Link shot her a narrowed look.

"No, I don't think we could. But I am glad to hear I don't get on your nerves to such a degree."

"I'm not frustrated with them…" Link interjected, and with a thoughtful pause he added, "and you don't get on my nerves, Princess. Its just that I don't… well…" He seemed unable to find the right words, nor could any hand gesture he made substitute for an answer, but Zelda understood what he was trying to say.

"Some people just aren't the type to give grand speeches?" she offered.

Link nodded readily.

"You're an attentive listener and observer Sir Link, among other things, and I think there is immense value in that. Believe me, I've dealt with my fair share of long winded and loose lipped Knights and Ladies in court, and more often that not they have nothing more valuable to say from their first sentence to their last. Your integrity speaks of your character more than you know."

Link blinked at her, his expression not shying away from a trace hints of surprise. Pleasant surprise.

"Reading you is sometimes like trying to read a brick wall, though," Zelda continued kindly. "And I will admit I would enjoy hearing your thoughts on matters more often, but…" It was strange. She hadn't thought up these words before she began, yet they all just came so naturally to her. "That doesn't mean I don't also appreciate your willingness to simply listen."

With a reflective demeanor, Link pondered her words―as he always did―and took to watching the villagers wind down by the fire as somnolence slowly gripped them. Even the little ones, with such boundless energy, had given up on their pursuit of catching fireflies and tucked themselves away in their parents' arms. Peace and silence had begun to settle over the camp.

"They care for you, you know," Zelda said quietly, regarding the village. Link hummed a sure but soft agreement. "They act more like family than neighbors, really, its been quite the show. Oh! Speaking of which, I forgot to even ask, don't you have actual family here? I seem to recall my father saying you had some relation in Hateno, though it was a long time ago, and I can't quite remember..."

Link paused palpably.

"No. Not anymore." There was a reservation in his voice that alarmed the Princess. "My mother was from here, but she passed away."

"I'm so sorry," Zelda quickly replied. "I had no idea. How long ago was this?"

"Last year, before winter."

"Before last winter?" That meant it happened after Link had drawn the Master Sword and was well established as her Appointed Knight. Scouring her mind, Zelda tried to recall faded memories of anything out of the ordinary. Very few came to mind at first, but there was one instance that stuck out…

"That day you suddenly up and left? Just before I ran off to the Gerudo Desert, I remeber you received an urgent note! You left because of your mother." Dread and a terrible guilt turned the Princess's stomach. Had her timing been so drastically horrid?

"It was then," Link answered with hesitancy, taking note of what was an undoubtedly stricken expression on Zelda's face. "But it was my choice to not say why," he reassured her. "You had no knowledge of it, Princess, so there is no need to feel bad on my account."

"Why didn't you tell me? I know we weren't on good terms then, but I'd like to believe I wouldn't have been so heartless as to run off then, Link." Truly, if there was one mutual feeling she could have understood back then, it was that of losing one's own mother! It was a heart wrenching affair; a wound that took years to heal.

"I didn't know how." He wouldn't look Zelda in the eye anymore. "And I didn't see what good would come from it at the time. I guess if I had known you'd run…"

Link didn't continue that thought, but Zelda assumed the implication. How sad it was to think about how little they once understood of one another.

"Well, its pointless worrying about it now." Link abruptly stood and patted down his tunic where grass had clung to it before softly saying, "The past is in the past, Princess, and all we can do is move forward, like we've always done… I'll go make preparations at the inn; they have a few good rooms."

"Link…" He had only made it a few steps before he stopped and turned. His face was hard to see in the dark of night, silhouetted by the campfire, but she could still make out the figure of a somber expression. Zelda spoke nearly in a whisper. "I know what it's like. I know how it hurts. You're not alone in this."

The Hero gave her words a moment for consideration, then nodded a silent thanks, and set off towards the inn.