The Legend of Zelda: The Return
Hey again!
Well . . . it would appear I have once again gotten carried away. I'm suddenly glad I decided to put up that Interlude on its own, or this would have been beyond long . . . I hope it's worth the wait, and the read. Due to (surprisingly) popular request, I've given Link back his black tunic, however, I can't promise he'll keep it forever. :-) I like it too, but his green one is his trademark, and I've taken enough liberties with this story as it is.
I think that's it for now. Thank you, and enjoy!
Lady Rose
Chapter 33
I'm numb.
So numb it hurts . . .
Physically . . .
My life for the past few months has been nothing but an insane storm of emotions; I've been tossed back and forth from any feeling you care to name relentlessly to the point where I came to expect no less . . .
But now . . .
I don't feel anything.
I'm just numb.
Horribly, painfully, numb.
A chill wind blows off the lake, but the thick black leather of my tunic keeps most of the cold out – assuming I'd feel it anyway.
Green just didn't suit today . . .
I wonder if green will ever suit anything ever again . . .
In front of me lie two things . . .
The first is Ketari's coffin, decorated with all the trappings of a Sheikah war Hero with full honors; all that's left is to lower it into the grave.
The second is Jinni's funeral pyre, illuminating everyone as the flames burn over her, turning her white uniform to black, and her hair, once again chopped short, to ashes . . .
Hunter had been the first to insist she had earned her Elite status back . . .
Like I would have done anything else . . .
And even if I would have, I couldn't have then . . .
Not with him looking like that . . .
I've never seen him that wrecked before . . .
Not even when he was fighting with Bruiser at Kakariko . . .
Even now, when I look at him . . .
He's got his arms crossed over his chest –despite the sling and thick bandages decorating one of them –, his eyes narrowed at Jinni's pyre, and a scowl worthy of the fallen Gerudo etched on his face . . .
But if you look closer you can see that his hands are trembling, his eyes are painfully red, and his scowl's probably more to keep himself from crying than anything . . .
He looks . . . broken . . .
Between he and I, Neesha stands, her face stoically free of emotion, though she wears a scowl similar to Hunter's in purpose.
She has an advantage over Hunter, however.
She's Gerudo.
In her eyes, Jinni got what every Gerudo yearns for – a Gerudo's death. An honorable, noble, worthy death, and she'll be remembered as a hero because of it. It's sad for the Gerudo, but not heart-breaking. None of them will cry for Jinni – doing so would dishonor her memory – but all of them mourn.
Across from the Gerudo, on the other side, stand the Sheikah, no few of which look as broken as Hunter. Dune stands at the forefront, flanked by whatever friends and family came with her, and stares at her daughter's casket without comprehending it. Every now and then one of the others mutter something to her, but she doesn't hear them. She's lost to everything right now except her daughter, and there's nothing anybody can do to help her.
Behind her stands Marcus, the wound on his forehead – courtesy of Dark Link and not the Gerudo he'd accused of it – invisible under a bandage. What is visible, however, are the black eye, fat lip, and other miscellaneous wounds he'd received when he'd been stupid enough to mutter something derogatory about Gerudo immediately after Hunter explained to him and everyone else in his group and the Gerudo what had happened on the bridge, largely in thanks to their petty fighting.
The Gerudo hadn't even had a chance to respond before Hunter did it for them.
Violently.
Ironically enough it was the Gerudo who'd pulled him off of Marcus.
Took three of them too.
Marcus still cringes every time Hunter looks at him.
Hunter and Neesha both turn and meet my gaze and we exchange a look of shared pain and loss before turning back to the funerals and losing ourselves once again in our individual thoughts.
So this is it.
My first taste of real war.
It's bitter and caustic and tart . . .
And it's just a taste.
In two days we're supposed to start the attack on Hyrule Castletown.
How many more people are going to die?
I'm not so naïve as to believe we're all going to make it out of this alive . . .
People are going to die . . .
More people like Jinni and Ketari . . .
I'm going to care about some of them . . .
How many more are going to die?
As I look around at the gathered groups of people and still see – amidst all the pain and sadness and grief – distrust and hatred and unease, the answer comes to me in a flash so painful my chest constricts tightly against it . . .
All of them.
They're all going to die.
They can't even trust each other long enough to keep up a stupid patrol . . .
I look back at our camp and see the sections. Gerudo, Goron, Sheikah, Zora . . . the army is segregated into four quarters, neither of them associating with the other . . .
Jinni and Ketari are dead because no one could see what they saw.
Jinni and Ketari are dead because no one understood what they understood.
I don't understand.
Jinni and Ketari were friends.
Hunter and Neesha are friends.
My parents loved each other . ..
Why can't the Sheikah and Gerudo do the same?
Why are they so hostile to each other?
And the Gorons and Zoras aren't any better. It may not be hostile, but it's there . . . the malice . . .
Jinni and Ketari are dead . . .
And soon, everyone else will be too.
The Sages . . . Bruiser . . . Zelda . . . they'll all die . . .
Hunter and Neesha and Malon and Navi . . . they'll die too . . .
And me.
All of us.
We're doomed.
All of us.
Because the one thing that can save us . . . the one thing that could give us the strength to do what we have to . . . is the one thing nobody's willing to do.
Set aside their hate.
Forget about the Great War.
Move on.
They've been Gorons and Sheikah and Gerudo and Zoras for so long . . .
They've forgotten what it's like to be Hyrule.
"Link . . . snap out of it," Navi hisses suddenly. I blink and look up. Everyone's looking at me. Someone asked me something.
"What?" I ask. Dune meets my gaze blankly.
"What do we do now?"
They're all looking at me.
All the veterans and generals and soldiers . . .
They're all looking at me. Looking to me.
Me.
The not-quite-18-year-old-kid who thought he could save the world.
And instead has doomed it with his foolishness.
And suddenly it's there . . . the feeling.
The numbness bleeds out of my body as rage seeps into it.
They want to know what they should do?
Fine.
I'll tell them what they should do.
"Go home," I snap, turning my back on the gathered crowd. "All of you. Go home." A stunned silence settles over the gathering.
"What . . ." Someone says. "I don't . . ."
"Go back to your mountains and rivers and caves and dessert," I continue, running whoever it is over. "Go back to your homes and your families and your old way of life. And enjoy them. While you can. And then defend them. When Ganondorf and the Moblins descend on you, you fight them with all your soul, with all your fury, and with all your pride. Your damnable pride. And when you're dying on the ground you worked so hard to defend, with your people dying all around you, and your home burning as you die, you can comfort yourself with the belief that you did your best. That you died doing what was right. That you're a Hero." I spit the word contemptuously, then turn back around and glare at them, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "You're all fools!" I shout furiously. "Every goddamned one of you! Ganondorf doesn't need to kill you! You're killing each other! Farore! You people are already dead! You've failed before you even started! You've doomed yourselves! And you've doomed Hyrule!" There's no sound from the crowd as I stand there for a moment, shaking with rage, before finally just shaking my head and turning away, back towards my tent.
"Just . . . go home."
I storm into my tent (Hunter, Neesha and Malon right on my heels) and immediately start ripping off my weapons, hurling them at the ground. "WHAT'S THE POINT?" I cry, throwing my shield so hard it bounces. My quiver goes next, the arrows scattering all over the ground as though running from me. I grab the Master Sword, sheath and all, and tear it off my back, clenching it so tightly it hurts. "What good is this damn sword if I can't even convince them that the Great War is over? What good is being the Hero of Time if I can't make them understand what's at stake? They're all going to die!" I rip the sword out of its sheath, whipping the sheath to the side and hurling the sword at the ground too, with all my strength. It stays upright, embedding itself into the soft dirt that forms the tent's floor. "And there's not a damn thing I can do about it."
"Link . . . " Navi says, fluttering her wings concernedly. "You can't lose hope . . ."
"Hope?" I cry, whirling around to face them. "What hope? Our only hope was to unite the races and destroy the Moblins before they destroy us! But that's never going to happen! Hyrule's been shattered for so long it's forgotten it's broken! There is no hope, Navi. We've already lost." I turn away as my strength, my rage, and everything else bleeds from my body, leaving nothing but despair as I throw myself onto my cot.
I'm so tired . . .
Of everything . . .
I just want to sleep . . .
Or die.
At least then it'd be over.
The others – including Navi – slowly file out of my tent and leave me to myself.
But sleep evades me.
The Master Sword glistens in the corner.
It mocks me . . .
It's disappointed in me . . .
It cries for me . . .
I bury my face in my pillow . . .
. . . I've failed.
xxx
A Brief Interlude
Hyrule's been shattered for so long it's forgotten it's broken! There is no hope, Navi. We've already lost . . .
Hunter scowled darkly to himself as he left the camp behind and slowly climbed the hill.
No hope? He thought to himself. Does he really mean that? He crossed his arms against the evening chill, ignoring the twinge of pain from his arm as he did so. His arm stung constantly anyway. Probably because of the dark magic involved in the infliction of it. How can he say that after we've come so far? How can he just . . . give up like this! What about all the people counting on him? On us!
He shook his head.
No hope? Then what's it all been for? All the running, and planning, and fighting . . . what's the point of it if there's no hope? Was it all for nothing? Has it all been for nothing?
He topped the hill and looked down at the bridge where he, Jinni, Ketari and Neesha had fought Dark Link.
Was this for nothing?
He started down the hill towards the bridge, wondering why he was even bothering. It had been cleaned up as best as possible since the fight. The Moblins had been disposed of and the jagged pieces of wood had been removed from the rail where Hunter had fallen through – but there was still dark splotches where the blood had soaked into the wood and couldn't be removed, and the gaping hole in the side of the bridge stood as mute testimony to the fight that had taken place.
Hunter's footsteps echoed hollowly on the night air as he stepped onto the bridge. He stopped and looked down at the blood stains. He knew what each of them were. That was where Ketari had died, run through by Dark Link. And that . . . that was where Jinni had thrown herself on Dark Link's sword . . . to save him. To save them all.
Despite himself he ran the fight over and over again in his mind.
He didn't want to remember it.
He wanted to forget it.
It hurt to remember it.
It made him angry.
But he couldn't help himself.
What if he'd done something different?
If he'd feinted here, instead of parried.
If he'd thrust instead of blocked.
If he hadn't been the stupid, foolish kid that he was and hadn't gotten himself thrown off the bridge.
If Jinni hadn't caught him and tried to save him.
She could have helped Ketari against Dark Link.
He could have helped Ketari against Dark Link.
Dark Link should have been the one who died. Not Jinni and Ketari.
Hunter should have been the one who died, not Jinni and Ketari.
It just . . . didn't seem right.
He walked over to the edge of the bridge and leaned up against the rail, looking out over the lake and wishing he didn't feel so utterly helpless. A chill wind blew off the lake, making him shiver. It rippled the water on the lake, forcing the moon's reflection to dance eerily, and sent the sounds of the camp drifting over to him; the odd clank of metal on metal, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional musical note, but nothing near where the volume of the camp should have been at. It was still early evening. Practice would be done and it was the time for the soldiers to wind down and have a bit of fun.
But there was nothing fun anymore.
There was nothing to celebrate.
No hope . . .
If there really was no hope . . .
Then they'd died for nothing.
Ketari and Jinni had died for nothing.
His knees buckled.
A steady arm snaked its way around his waist and a body forced its way in under his arm, holding him up. He blinked.
"Malon . . ." He whispered.
"You know the saddest part about all of this?" Malon asked, meeting his gaze evenly. "I knew you'd come here. I knew it the moment you left us outside of your and Link's tent. And I knew you'd try and come here alone." Hunter stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and pulled away, leaning up against the rail again. She frowned at him. "Hunter, are you all right?" She asked. "You've hardly spoken a word since yesterday. I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine," he said stiffly.
"No you're not," Malon said, coming to stand beside him and leaning against the rail as well. "If you were fine, you wouldn't have come here, of all places. If you were fine you wouldn't have taken what Link said to heart. If you were fine, Hunter, you wouldn't hurt as much as I know you do." A flicker of irritation crossed his face.
"What do you want, Malon?" He asked. "What do you expect? Me to just get over it? To move on, like nothing happened? Is that it?" He shook his head and fell silent again, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. He didn't want to fight with her. He just wanted to be alone for a while.
"What I want, Hunter, is for you to be all right again. I don't . . . I don't like you being hurt. It . . . it bothers me."
"If I could help it, don't you think I would?" He demanded, glaring at her, furious all of a sudden despite himself. "It's not like I want to feel like this, Malon! It's not like I wanted this to happen! How am I supposed to be all right after this?" He clenched his fists tightly. "They died, protecting me, Malon. They died because I was careless, and couldn't take care of myself. They died, and I lived, and do you know what I said to her, when she died? To Jinni?" He started trembling again but it had nothing to do with the wind. "I told her to die. I told her I didn't care, and I didn't like her. I told her I didn't care, Malon! How could I have said that to her? How could . . . how could I have said that? And now she's dead and I won't ever get to take that back." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wishing he didn't feel so close to crying. "Just . . . leave me alone, Malon." He turned back to the lake as silent tears began to trail down his face. He swiped at them angrily and scowled. Malon didn't move. "Malon . . . please . . . just go . . ."
"No," she said flatly.
"Malon, listen to me, I –"
"No," she interrupted, her back rigid. "You listen to me. When my mother died when I was nine, I watched my father practically waste away from grief. He stopped talking, he stopped eating, he stopped caring. He didn't care about the ranch, he didn't care about the animals, and he didn't care about me. He just gave up on everything. He lost hope. If it hadn't been for Ingo Lon Lon Ranch would have gone under in less than a month, and so would my father. It wasn't until I got hurt really bad in a horse accident a year later that something in him changed and he began to come back around." Her grip on the rail tightened until her knuckles were white. "Hunter, that was the worst year of my life. I lost my mother and I almost lost my father as well. And I don't want to lose you." She bit her lip and shook her head. "Fine. It hurts. It will. It always will. But don't let it destroy you. Don't keep dwelling on it. Don't keep blaming yourself." He stared at her in shock as she suddenly started crying too. "Please, Hunter . . . don't give up . . . don't lose hope . . ."
"Malon . . ."
She looked so desperate.
He reached out and instinctively pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest as he did the same in her hair.
No hope . . .
"Promise me," she whispered, "that you won't lose hope."
Jinni and Ketari didn't die for nothing . . . I won't let them have died for nothing . . .
"Promise me, Hunter."
They believed there was hope . . .
"I promise . . ."
xxx
Zelda hovered on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, a frown playing across her face.
This was when her powers were at their strongest; on the cusp of the conscious and unconscious. Rauru insisted that with time and practice she'd be able to have them at full strength, all the time, not just when she was asleep or in situations of extreme emotion. Before this had all happened he had told her she was progressing nicely, but she failed to see it.
So far all she'd managed was prophetic dreams and a kind of vague insight into the hearts of people . . .
And one telepathic conversation.
With Link the day Impa and she had run from the palace before Link had changed time, and she had given him the Ocarina of Time.
They had been so close that day . . . their minds on the same wavelength . . . they'd both been terrified, and angry, and determined . . . and they had just connected. It should have been the worst day of her life, but she had been left feeling elated. She still didn't understand why.
And now she could feel the tendrils of that connection again . . . but they were thin . . . she couldn't quite grab them . . . they brushed her mind lightly every now and then, giving her brief insight into Link's feelings and impressions . . .
One thing pervaded all of them.
Pain.
He was hurt somehow. Something had wounded him deeply.
She wanted to know what was going on . . . something had gone wrong . . . why was he hurting?
And beneath the pain was a despair and hopelessness that frightened her . . .
Through everything he'd been through, she'd never once known Link to be hopeless . . .
He never gave up, even when it was impossible.
He never lost hope, even when that hope should have been ripped away from him.
It was infuriating in a way, but in the end that was what had pulled him through in the past . . .
That was what had pulled them all through . . .
If Link had given up . . .
Her frown darkened and she tried harder to form a steady, if tenuous, mental connection, but the tendrils continued to elude her.
If she had some kind of medium to work through it would be easier . . . like Saria's Song or some such . . . but Saria's Song only worked for Link and Saria, and even then only when Saria was at the Forest Temple or in the Sacred Realm . . . and Link and Zelda had no such aid . . .
He hurt so much . . .
She kept trying . . .
Abruptly, the tendril's of Link's thoughts steadied, growing less erratic.
He must have fallen asleep.
Zelda leapt at the chance, using the now still tendrils to form a connection to Link in her mind, praying to any Goddess who would listen that it would work . . .
Just this once . . . She thought to herself. Please . . . just once . . .
xxx
In the corner of Link's tent the Master Sword glowed for a moment as sleep finally managed to catch the Hero unawares and drag him into oblivion.
xxx
"Hunter, wake up."
Hunter frowned and curled up tighter. He wasn't sure why, but he was vaguely aware of the fact that he didn't want to wake-up.
"Hunter." Someone shook him.
He opened one eye and frowned at the dark skinned face that peered at him.
"Neesha? What is it? What's going on?"
As his mind began to clear up he realized a few things.
First, he was still on the bridge where Jinni and Ketari had died.
Second, someone had wrapped a blanket around him.
Third, he'd been sleeping in Malon's lap.
He jumped into a sitting position, blushing furiously and immediately began apologizing. Malon laughed and shook her head.
"Relax, Hunter," she said. "I didn't mind. And you really needed to sleep anyway." She smirked at him. "But you owe me. That's three lessons I get to skip now."
He still didn't feel much like smiling, but he made the effort for her sake.
Neesha frowned at her.
"You shouldn't skip lessons," she said. "That's not very good discipline."
"Anyway," Malon said quickly, changing the subject, "Neesha and I were talking while you were asleep, and I think she might have a good idea."
"For what?" Hunter asked, leaning back against the bridge. He moved to offer the blanket to one of the girls, but realized they each had their own, and instead wrapped it tightly around himself. The moon still wasn't at its peak in the sky and it was still cold out.
"The Gerudo have a saying," she said. "There are two things that can unite a broken people: a common enemy, or a common love."
"That doesn't sound very Gerudo," Hunter pointed out.
"Well it is," Neesha insisted. "And I was thinking about that after Link flipped out on us, and everyone else. We tried the common enemy thing, and it didn't work. These people could care less about Ganondorf and the Moblins and everything else we're fighting. They just want to fight each other."
"Yeah," Hunter said, "but what 'love' could they possible have in common?" Neesha raised an eyebrow at him.
"Can't you hear it?" She asked. Hunter frowned and cocked his head to the side, listening.
"All I hear," he said, "is music from the camp. And that's hardly common. They're all playing different songs."
"It's not the songs that are important, Hunter," Malon said. "It's the music itself. Music was a gift from the Goddesses."
"Nayru gave us Inspiration, Din gave us Magic, and Farore gave us Music. What does this have to do with us?"
"Man are you dense," Neesha growled. "Farore didn't give just the Sheikah music. Or just the Zoras. Or just the Gerudo. She gave it to everyone. And I've yet to meet a person in Hyrule who doesn't love Music. Even Jinni liked music, and she didn't like much of anything."
"So you're saying that music is a common love?" Hunter asked. "But what good does that do us?"
"Well, I was walking around camp, because unlike the two of you I didn't feel like coming out here to sulk and freeze, and I noticed something about the songs everyone was playing." She grinned excitedly. "They match! Each of the four cultures here have a song that's very important to them, but they all seemed to be missing something. And then I was thinking that the Zora song would sound good with the Goron's rhythm. And if you made a couple changes to the Sheikan tune, and threw that in with the Gerudo backing it up on their instruments . . ."
"And . . .?"
"And then I got excited and ran out here and didn't really think it through past that," Neesha said. "I'm not the songwriter here, anyway, you are, so . .."
"Woah, wait? Me? A songwriter?" Hunter demanded. Neesha raised an eyebrow.
"Go ahead and deny it," she said. "I dare you."
"I . . . how do you know that?" He asked with a frown.
"I went with Ketari and Jinni on their patrol once and Ketari told me you write songs. Said you didn't think much of them yourself, but everyone else liked them."
"I . . . so what?" He demanded. "What are you saying? That I take all those songs and make them into one?"
"And then that we find people who can play it from the different races," Malon added.
"All before the morning," Neesha added with a grin. Hunter stared from one of them to the other.
"You're both crazy," he said. "This'll never work."
"Why not?" Neesha demanded. "Have you got a better idea?"
"Well . . . no," he said. "But . . . what are you expecting? Everyone to just put aside their differences and be best friends all because we played a song?"
"Well . . . not best friends," Neesha said, "but maybe if we can combine their songs, it'll open their eyes a bit and they'll be more willing to combine. Maybe . . . maybe we can remind them of what it's like to be Hyrule. Like Link said." Hunter frowned and shook his head.
"I think, Hunter," Malon said softly, "that you're underestimating the power of music. There's magic in the right combination of notes and beats and words. Look at what Link can do with his Ocarina. If he can control Time itself with a dinky little melody, then why can't we bring people together with one?"
"I . . . I . . . must be as crazy as you for even considering this," he said, dropping his head into his hands. Malon and Neesha exchanged triumphant grins. "But I don't," he added, glaring at them both, "do dinky little melodies."
Malon and Neesha both laughed and dragged him to his feet, pulling him in the direction of camp.
xxx
Chapter 33 (cont.)
I'm trembling.
Because of the cold? Because of the pain? Because of the fear?
I don't understand . . .
I'm surrounded by whiteness, cold and blank. I spin around, searching desperately for some familiar sight. Some sign that I'm still . . . I don't know, alive?
Alive or not, there's nothing here. Nothing but me and this whiteness. Suddenly, however, I see something, out of the corner of my eye. I turn and look, hope rising up in my chest, then dying still born when I see it. It looks almost like a ripple. A huge, dark, ripple in the whiteness. I swallow hard and take several steps back as the ripple advances, picking up speed as it comes. Some buried alive instinct thumps deep in my chest . . .
"This is going to hurt."
I gasp in surprise and turn to see who's speaking. My eyes widen.
"Dad?" I ask in surprise. Brayden of the Sheikah stares back at me, his face grim.
"This is going to hurt you," he says. "It's coming."
"What?" I cry in confusion, starting towards him. "What's going to hurt me? What's going on?"
"I'm sorry," Brayden says. "Run Link! Don't let it get you! I can't stop it! Run!"
"Link . . ." whispers another voice.
I shake my head angrily.
"No!" I cry. "I won't run! I'm tired of running! What's going on?"
The ripple slams into me before he can answer. My father is swallowed into the darkness and I'm knocked back against a stone altar. I'm pressed up against the smooth stone, uncomfortably aware of the three dents in it. Pain sears through me. Every inch of me burns with a pain unlike anything I've ever felt before . . .
"Link! Answer me!"
I freeze with a sudden realization.
I know where this is.
This is the Altar at the Temple of Time.
These dents are for the sacred stones . . .
Why am I –
The thought is cut short as the pain increases.
"Hero of Time . . ." A voice whispers. Gritting my teeth I force my eyes open, peering around me. The whiteness is gone, replaced with an absolute dark.
"Link?"
"I know it's you!" I shout around the pain. I press a hand tightly to my stomach and work my way into a sitting position. "I know it's you Dark Link! Show yourself! What have you done with my father?"
"HERO OF TIME!" Screams a voice from behind me. I whirl around just in time to see an ebony figure lunging at me, out of the darkness, three feet of black steel gleaming in his hand.
I whirl around, my first thought to roll out of the way of the attack, but something urges me not to. Something tells me to roll the other way.
I've got nothing to lose . . .
I twist into the attack and Dark Link's ebon sword slams into the altar, slicing through my side, but not impaling me, and cracks the whole thing in half. Halfway to the floor I twist again and grab his sword, ripping it out of his grasp.
"Link . . . please . . ."
At my touch the blackness shatters from it, leaving nothing but the Master Sword in my hand, gleaming silver and blue. The sword flares brilliantly and Dark Link stumbles to a halt, my blood on his hands, screaming and grabbing his head suddenly. I stare at the blade in shock. I didn't make it do that . .
It did that on its own . . .
This is . . . different . . .
Is this my dream? Am I dreaming?
It's never happened this way before . . .
Dark Link screams again, his face contorting in pain and suddenly there's two of them. Brayden and Dark Link. I can feel the color drain from my face.
If this is my dream . . .
Then . . .
This . . . this is the part . . . where he kills him . . .
This is the part where he dies . . .
But if it's different this time . . .
Then maybe . . . maybe I can . . .
I start forward, but there's no need. The Master Sword flares again and Dark Link screams, arching his back as the light touches him, and shatters him into tiny, glittering pieces of darkness. The instant the jagged fragments touch the ground the darkness shatters as well and the world goes white again. My father smiles at me once, briefly, then disappears.
I stare at the whiteness in uncomprehending silence as it shifts subtly and changes, and suddenly . . .
. . . I'm standing the Temple of Time again, only it's not dark. It looks the way it always does, and in the background I can hear the low chanting that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
I fall to my hands and knees weakly, feeling the cool marble of the platform with the symbol of the Light Sage on it underneath my palms.
How did I get here?
I was dreaming . . .
I know I was dreaming . . .
But now?
I raise my head and look around. Everything is as it should be . . .
Except for the fact that I'm here . . . when I'm supposed to be at Lake Hylia . . .
I'm once again in the black leather tunic that I fell asleep in . . . but I'm still not convinced I'm asleep. The hazy, unreal feeling you get from a dream isn't with me anywhere. Instead I feel . . . hyper-aware. All of my senses are on full-tilt and my mind's at a heightened state of awareness . . . like adrenaline does to you, but calmer.
It's kind of like the time that Zelda gave me the Ocarina of Time . . .
"Funny," says a soft voice at my side. "I should have known it would be this place . . ."
"Zelda!" I gasp, whirling around. The Princess of Hyrule sits pertly on the edge of the platform, one leg crossed over the other and braced there by her hands wrapped around her knee.
"Even your unconscious can't resist the pull of this place."
"What's going on? How are you here? How am I here? Why are we here? I thought you were captured! I'm coming to rescue you! Or I was . . ." I trail off and stare at her, roiling with a mix of confusion, and longing, and uncertainty, still mingled with the heart-deep ache that still burns in my chest from before I fell asleep. "Is this a dream?"
"No," she answers. "It's a . . . telepathic conversation of sorts. It's . . . part of my powers as the Seventh Sage. I . . . you and I have a sort of . . . mental link . . . that I can tap into. I'm not very good at it yet, but someday maybe I'll . . ." She rushes through that last part and I frown at her.
"Mental link, eh?" I ask darkly. "You never told me that."
"I . . . ah . . . didn't think it was important."
"Zelda, I think having a telepathic link with you is something rather important." My frown tries to turn into a scowl but I won't let it. I won't fight with her. Not now . . . there are more important things. "So . .. you're not actually with me?"
"No," she says. "That would be too easy. I'm in the dungeons at the palace with the Sages." I readjust myself into a more comfortable position, sitting beside her. For a moment I say nothing, then:
"Why did you wait so long to contact me?" I ask, not meeting her gaze. "If we have this link . . . I've been really worried, Zelda. Freaking out. I kept thinking about what Dark Link would do to you . . . about . . . about the kind of things . . . that he's capable of . . ." I shake my head and banish the images. "Why didn't you contact me?" I ask again. "Is it . . . is it because of what I said?" I whip my head around to face her. "I never meant it Zelda! I didn't mean anything I said! Well, I meant a lot of it," I correct myself, "but I didn't meant the thing about Dark Link! I never, never, would have let him take you! No matter how mad I was! I swear! I –" She covers my mouth with her hand.
I blink and stare into her eyes.
They're so blue . . .
Oh Goddesses how I've missed those eyes . . .
"I know Link," she says, meeting my gaze earnestly. "I know you wouldn't have let him take me. I know you tried to stop him. I know." And a tiny bit of the weight that's been slowly crushing my chest the past few weeks is lifted.
It's not much.
But it's something.
My shoulders sag with relief and she takes her hand off my mouth.
"I didn't contact you before because you weren't close enough," she says. "Even now, I could only do it because of the strength of your emotions. Even from this distance I could feel them. They were as strong as that day . . . back in the Skultulla Forest . . ." Her voice trails off and I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them.
"I'm, uh . . . I'm sorry about that, by the way," I add quietly. "For kissing you like that. I never should have done that. It . . . I . . . was just . . . really, really mad. And hurt. And . . . I'm sorry."
"It's . . . all right," she replies and suddenly neither one of us is meeting the other's gaze. "It just . . . surprised me, is all. And . . . for the record . . . I'm sorry too. About a lot of things." Now I do look at her, but she continues to avoid my gaze. "I've . . . had a lot of time to think . . . about what I did . . . and why I did it. I'm . . . I was wrong." She winces as though admitting that hurt her physically.
Knowing her it probably did.
"About what?" I prod.
"About . . . about . . . sending you back in Time," she answers. "And . . . and taking your memories. I . . . the choice should have been yours. You were right. You're not my pawn, and I shouldn't treat you as such. I . . . I'm sorry Link." For a long moment I don't answer her, then:
"It seems," I say quietly, "that it worked out in the end, anyway. I'm not saying you should have done it. And I'm not saying I fully accept your apology, either. But . . . if you hadn't done that . . . I wouldn't have known Hunter, and Neesha, and Jinn—" My throat constricts painfully before I can finish the sentence. I close my eyes and press my forehead against my knees.
Oh yeah.
For a half-second there, I'd almost forgotten.
"What is it?" Zelda asks. I take a deep, shaky breath.
"Do . . . did you ever know Ketari? Dune's son? Thomas' sister?"
"Yes," Zelda answers. "She and I were friends. We spent a bit of time together whenever I was there. Why? I – oh no," she says. Her eyes take in my black tunic, and grieving expression and grow wide. "Link . . ." She breathes. "What's happened?" I meet her gaze and wish I had something happier to tell her.
It's going to be a long night.
xxx
" . . . and so that's where we currently stand," I say with a heavy sigh. "And at the rate we're going I'm going to be coming after you guys on my own."
"Link, don't even think it," Zelda says with a frown. "Even you'll be cut down before you make it to the market, let alone the palace."
"I'm coming for you, Zelda," I say flatly. "With or without the army. I didn't come this far just to turn around and run now. I'm not going to run."
"Ever heard the expression 'he who fights and runs away' . . ." She demands with a raised eyebrow.
"Gets hunted down and slaughtered in his sleep," I finish for her. "I told you once, Zelda, if I'm going down, I'm doing it with my teeth in their throat." She frowns at me.
"You never used to be this . . . volatile," she comments. I shrug uncomfortably.
"It never used to be this complicated," I answer. "Last time I took on Ganondorf it was really quite simple. Here's a sword. Use on it on things that try to kill you. Find the princess. Rescue her. Kill the bad guy. Simple." I shake my head. "Now it's, here's an army. You can try and use it on things that are trying to kill you, but it probably won't work, because your army's busy killing itself. And . . . there's still a princess to rescue, but instead of killing the bad guy, you just need to find a way to keep him in the kinda-almost-not-quite dead state you put him in last time. We don't know how. Just do it. Oh! And did we mention that just to make things interesting we jammed a shade into your father's body and made him into a psychotic, homicidal clone of you. You might want to watch out for him. We suggest killing him, since that he's trying to do that to you, but hey, if you don't think you can handle it . . ." I raise an eyebrow at her. "See?" I ask. "Complicated." I fold my hands behind my head and lay back on the flat platform. "And now Ketari and Jinni are dead, and I don't know what to do without them, and I keep wondering who's going to be next. Hunter? Neesha? Malon? You? I don't want anyone else to die, Zelda. And if running in there alone keeps people from dying, then that's damn well what I'm going to do."
"You'll die if you try that, Link, and no one wants to see you dead either."
"Dark Link does," I reply. "And Ganondorf. And the Moblins, and Stalfos, and Re-Deads . . ."
"No one who counts," she counters. She idly traces the patterns on her skirt for a moment as silence descends between us. "I can't believe Ketari's dead . . ." She whispers, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "What am I going to tell Impa . . ."
"Tell her what everyone's been telling Dune," I answer quietly. "That she was a hero. And tell Nabooru that Jinni died a Gerudo's death."
"I still can't believe you actually got the Gerudo to follow you against Ganondorf's minions," she says. "I would have thought it impossible."
It suddenly occurs to me that in my rush to tell her everything that had happened since she was captured . ..
I forgot to tell her how I got the Gerudo to follow me . . .
She doesn't know I'm their King.
I meet her gaze and shrug.
"Who knows why Gerudo do anything," I answer her. "They're a confusing people."
"Hmm," Zelda says, frowning at me. She knows I'm hiding something. I continue to meet her gaze, daring her to challenge me on it.
Koume and Kotake were right about one thing.
She's had so many secrets . . .
It's only right that I should have some too.
At least for now.
She shakes her head and gives up.
"So much has happened," she murmurs. "So much has changed . . ." She lays back as well, surprising me by resting her head on my chest. I blink and instinctively wrap one arm around her.
Huh . . .
It's funny how perfectly she fits there.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I know . . . I shouldn't . . . I shouldn't do this . . . I shouldn't encourage you like this. It's just . . . for once in my life, I don't know what's going to happen next. My dreams aren't telling me anything. The future's a big blank. It . . . frightens me . . . kind of. I just . . . I need . . ." Her voice trails off. She doesn't know how to finish that. Or doesn't want to.
"So . . . you're telling me not to get my hopes up," I say, biting back a sigh. I expected no less. "This is as far as you're going to let us go?"
"This is it," she confirms.
"It's enough," I whisper.
Right now . . . it's everything.
"It's funny," she says softly, her breath warming a small part of my tunic. "I tried so hard to connect us so I could offer you some comfort . . . I just wanted to make you feel better. I could feel your hurt and pain as far away as Castletown . . . and yet . . . here I am, taking your comfort instead."
"You are making me feel better," I whisper back. "It's enough, Zelda, that you're here. I . . . I appreciate it more than you know."
"Hmm," she murmurs sleepily. I stare up at the ceiling of the Temple.
"There's never going to be a happy ending for us, is there?" I ask quietly, but I get no answer. She's asleep. As we lay together on the platform, with the Song of Time playing softly in the background, I can feel my eyes drift shut as well, as my breathing slows down to keep time with hers. My grip tightens instinctively on her as I finally give into the lull and fall asleep . . .
xxx
When I wake up, Zelda's gone, replaced with nothing to hold onto but the chill morning air. And the Temple of Time is gone as well, replaced with the monochrome inside of the tent I share with Hunter.
I can't help a disappointed sigh.
I should have known it wouldn't last forever . . .
Maybe I did dream it . . .
I rub my eyes and push myself into a seated position, glancing over at Hunter's cot.
It hasn't been slept in.
He didn't go to bed last night.
I frown worriedly. He was pretty wrecked . . . I hope he didn't do anything stupid . . .
"About time you woke up," says a huffy voice from the corner of the tent where I put my green ensemble. Navi peers up at me from the inside of my hat, the irritation on her face marred by concern. "Are . . . are you all right? You kind of scared me last night . . ." I reach down and scoop her up, setting her on my shoulder.
"I'm . . . better," I say, and I mean it. My head doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday, and the weight on my chest has lifted enough that I can breathe again. I fell kind of . . . calm. "I . . . Zelda . . . contacted me mentally while I was asleep. I'm not all right, but . . . I'm better."
"I'm glad," Navi says, trying to find a comfortable position in the folds of cloth on my shoulders. "I was worried about you, there, for a while. So . . ." She looks up at me. "When are you putting your hat back on?"
"Not today," I say, walking over to the Master Sword, still embedded in the soft earth floor. "Not for a while. Unless you feel like making me a black one." I reach out and take the hilt of the sword, blinking. It's warm, and buzzes with the aftermath of magic. Feels like I've been using it . . . but I've been asleep. I frown, then shrug (knocking Navi off balance) and chalk it up to just being out of it. I pull it out of the ground and go pick up its sheath, slipping it on my back, then move to pick up my quiver, arrows, shield and anything else I chucked at the ground last night. It takes me a few minutes to set them all back on where they're supposed to go, muttering apologies to them as I do so.
Practice for the apologies I'm going to have to mutter to the people outside my tent . . .
Sucking in a breath and screwing up my courage I move over to the tent flap and throw it open, stepping outside and shielding my eyes against the early morning sun . . .
I expected to hear the usual sounds of camp waking up . . .
I expected to see the generals, up bright and early as usual, standing in line outside my door to demand what I had been thinking last night . . .
I did not expect to see what it is I'm seeing right now.
There's a hastily built raised platform not far from the tent, and gathered around it is what looks like the whole camp. Standing on the platform are the Generals, plus Neesha and Malon. Standing just below the platform is Hunter, looking around and watching the people gathered intently, an odd kind of desperate hope in his eyes. Each of the people on the platform is not only holding, but playing, an instrument (Rue has a violin, Karun's beating on his drums, Acqul's got some kind of guitar, Dune's playing the piano (where the hell did she get a piano?), Malon's singing her heart out, and Neesha's playing what looks like a suspiciously familiar ocarina. I jam my hand into my pouch and my suspicions are confirmed. She's playing my Fairy Ocarina. Where'd she even learn to play that? Sneaky little thief).
The song they're playing sounds familiar somehow . . .
Like a face you know you've seen before, but can't for the life of you remember who, or where . . .
The Master Sword hums to the music . . .
I blink and look at the people gathered. For the first time since we gathered them here, they're standing together, as one, and just listening . . . their eyes riveted on the platform. Some of them sway to the beat, some of them just watch, but they're all listening. As the music rises to a crescendo I can see a few of them squint at the stage, and then turn to squint at someone of a different race, as though seeing them for the first time. I look back at Hunter and notice his eyes brightening as he sees the same things I do. Hunter looks over and sees me and for the briefest of moments the scowl that I'd been afraid would be permanently etched on his face disappears and he flashes me his trademark grin, looking at once pleased, and hopeful, and excited.
All I can do is stare at him and stand, as mesmerized as the crowd by the music.
I turn to look at the stage as the song winds down to its finish and my mouth twitches at the corners despite myself.
I have no idea what that was about . . .
But somehow, I'm left with a feeling . . .
Maybe there'll be a happy ending, after all . . .