Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to The Legend of Zelda. I've actually only played through Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.
The Boy in the Tree
by: thelittletree
(Thank you toreaders and reviewers! This fic is turning out to be a lot of fun!)
"Do you really think my father is dead?"
Zelda had been sitting in the same place for what felt like hours, just looking out of the window. Impa had some books, but nothing that had interested her; so, after a succinct tour around the village that had introduced her to the school house, the subdued markets, the temple, the roads between residences that eventually dwindled into cropland, and several austere, faintly curious inhabitants, the princess had returned with Impa to her small but sturdy 'accommodations'. A stonework building with no more than the basic necessities, for which her guardian had briefly apologized, but large and comfortable enough to house the two of them.
And yet, although she was tired, more tired than she thought she'd ever been before, she couldn't seem to relax enough to shut her mind down for the night. Gone were the days when her biggest concern had been whether or not she was going to be able to remember which was the salad fork. From here, all of her life before seemed like a kind of unbelievable, cotton-wrapped dream.
She turned from the window, her headdress and coif long discarded, and felt the evening wind start to pick gently at her hair. Far from making her smile at the tender brush of freedom, it almost annoyed her. "Impa?"
Impa glanced up from her meditation. It had surprised Zelda initially to find that Impa meditated. There were a lot of things, she imagined, that she didn't know about her guardian.
"Princess…" For a moment, Zelda half expected to be brushed off. This was Impa's house, and they had never been forced to spend every hour together; there were undoubtedly schedules long practiced at the castle that her presence was now interrupting. But then the Sheikah woman unfolded herself from her cross-legged position and met Zelda's gaze attentively. "I wish, for your sake, that he might be. But you know as well as I that Ganondorf is not a man inclined to mercy. I am not saying that we should lose hope, but we must be prepared for the possibility."
Zelda nodded faintly and returned her gaze to the unfamiliar vista outside of the window: stone structures, minor orchards, no children anywhere. Perhaps it wasn't so different. Her father, the king; would Ganondorf have kept him alive? And for what? To torture him? She shuddered a little, thinking of her beloved father in that position, in pain, wondering where she was and, perhaps, wishing for death…
Her tears were hot and quiet, and Impa left her to grieve undisturbed, though she did unobtrusively drape a coarse woolen blanket over her charge's young shoulders after a few minutes.
Hours later, lying awake on the straw mattress Impa had given her, she came to the hardest conclusion she had ever known: perhaps death wasn't the worst fate that could've befallen her father. And then she fell into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, she declined her guardian's offer and took herself, alone, to the school house. Impa was right, her responsibilities had changed with the path she had chosen. She was a princess; someday she would be queen. It was time, whether or not she felt ready, to stand up and start acting the part.
She had never really been around other children. Though she had heard the shrieks and games of the children in town happily crooning on the wind toward the castle, and her imagination had wistfully been able to fill in the rest.
These children, however, seemed nothing like the children she had pictured from her bedroom window. They sat tranquilly at their desks; if they were speaking to each other, they did it quietly, composedly. They didn't smile, they didn't laugh. They all seemed so much older than herself, tall and slim and attractive so that, in comparison, she felt like an ugly, awkward urchin, something altogether new to her. But the teacher had obviously been told about her beforehand and wasn't going to let her hesitate for long in the doorway.
The teacher was young; younger than Impa, at least. His hair brown as bark in places, but white in others as if he hadn't quite reached a level of enlightenment. His face was vaguely friendly, round and touched with colour, and his hands were gentle in their urging. She found herself being seated at a bench and desk beside a red-haired girl before she realized it. The girl only glanced at her once, placidly, before turning her attention again to the teacher.
"Apprentices, we have an addition to our class. Would you stand and introduce yourself, please?"
Zelda felt her stomach drop into her toes. But she obediently got to her feet, ignoring the impulse to turn and look at the faces around her. "My name is…"
There was a sudden, rapid knocking at the door. Undisturbed, the teacher held up a hand for silence and went to answer it.
"Orator. Is there a problem?"
The Orator didn't enter the room, but Zelda could picture him perfectly from his tone of voice. "Is my son here?"
"No, I have not seen him…"
"Are you positive?" Now the Orator did step in, dressed in a black robe, very unlike the dull, unhampered clothing of the rest of the Sheikah Zelda had seen so far. "Sheik? Show yourself!"
"He is not here, your grace. If you wish, I can send someone to look…"
"Yes, do that. Right away. I have no time today." And, with a swish of his dark robe, the Orator swept out of the room as briskly as he had come.
Zelda only realized at this point that she was still standing. She couldn't help herself; she glanced around. But no one seemed to be looking at her. She sighed inwardly in relief and unobtrusively took her seat again.
The teacher pointed briefly at the back of the room and gestured for his target to approach. It was a boy of light colouring, round of face like the teacher, and with a particular energy to his step. "Edrich, you know where to look. Find Sheik and bring him to class."
"Yes, Father." The boy hurried out the door.
The teacher closed it after him and turned his attention back to Zelda. She steeled herself to stand again.
"I apologize for the interruption. Please, child, tell us your name."
She got to her feet and looked hastily at the sea of eyes around her. There didn't seem to be any particular animosity toward a stranger in their midst and it gave her a little courage. "Zelda. My name is Zelda."
A sound, rapidly muffled, erupted suddenly from the back of the room. Zelda tried to pretend she hadn't heard it as she sat once more, but she knew her face was getting hot as the teacher blithely introduced himself as Hari, the instructor.
It had been a laugh. No use deceiving herself. Someone, impossible to tell if it had been a boy or a girl, had laughed, perhaps at her name, or her dress, or some other thing about her that had amused or offended. Not that she had to let it bother her, she decided.
But she kept her eyes turned forward for the remainder of the class.
Edrich returned an hour later, step no less energetic despite the fact that he was alone. Instructor Hari didn't seem bothered by the failure to locate the Orator's son.
There was a midday break when the sun reached its zenith. Impa was standing outside, waiting to take her home to eat. When they reached the house, however, it became apparent that her guardian had had another reason for bringing her back.
"You will find your dress constricting this afternoon. Theses clothes may not be an exact fit, but they should be close enough to allow both movement and comfort. Here, give me your dress for now and then sit down to eat."
Impa helped her out of her dress and she sat down at the table in her underclothes, not quite sure if she should be uncomfortable. "I was fine this morning. Why do I have to change?"
"Sheikah children are trained from an early age. I think you would benefit from such training. You are young enough, your muscles will adapt quickly."
Bread and fruit and eggs and seeds. Perhaps they didn't eat meat at all. "Trained for what?"
"For the protection of Hyrule, Princess. One Sheikah is chosen to be the guardian of the royal family, but they are chosen through a series of tests. Every child must be ready. Just as you must be."
"But I've never trained before." Impa had folded the dress up, and Zelda was faintly relieved when she simply set it aside instead of trying to put it away anywhere.
"They are simple exercises at this age. I know you will be able to do them."
"But…"
"Enough talk. You need to eat now." Her guardian sat down and, after a brief prayer, began unequivocally to serve them lunch.
If the morning had been momentarily awkward before they had delved into their letters, the afternoon was positively riddled with embarrassments. The clothing Impa had given her was obviously too loose compared to the other children's, there was no way to escape notice when she fumbled the unfamiliar exercises amidst the ideal examples of balance and poise all around her, and it was almost worse when the instructor approached her and suggested that she sit outside of the circle until they were done, as if she'd been misbehaving.
It wasn't fair, she decided, to be treated like an outsider one minute, and then ignored or brushed off for being an outsider the next. She was trying her best; they didn't have to be so silent and condescending. So she'd never done exercises before. Was that wrong? She was a princess. She was going to be queen. She wouldn't ever need to be able to raise her foot to a right angle in order to rule her kingdom. What was the point of all of this?
But she already knew the point, and couldn't in all honesty feel sorry for herself for very long. Link was out there, fighting for Hyrule, bleeding for Hyrule, pushing himself to his very limits for Hyrule. For her, too, she remembered. And she was sulking in the grass like the spoiled princess she was. And why? Because she had never been laughed at in her life and her royal highness didn't like it one bit. These were commoners, they had no right, she was going to be Queen!
A selfish, uncaring Queen at this rate.
Abruptly, she wished more than anything in the world that she could curl up in her father's lap and have him stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to work out, she didn't have to worry herself, she was his little princess and he would always be there for her.
But he wasn't here. The dream was over. She wasn't a little princess in this village to be treated delicately and with respect. She was the Hylian stranger who had come requesting protection and, like Impa, the Sheikah would not sugar coat anything for her. She was going to have to grow up if she was going to become the ruler she had to be, for her people. For Link.
But first, she realized, feeling herself tear up, she was going to have to go and have a good cry.
A glance around herself showed her a private glade of sturdy, ancient trees no more than half a mile behind the school, and that right now no one was watching her. She could just slip away and then return when she saw the other children finish with their training. No one had to even know she was gone.
Quietly, carefully, she got to her feet. And then she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.
The area beneath the trees was as cool and soothing as appearances had led Zelda to believe. The trunks and canopies seemed to block out the rest of the world, and for a moment she could almost believe that she had left everything and everyone else far behind. Stepping over knotty roots that poked up through the grass and weeds, she made her way deeper into the grove, trying to see everything at once. The courtyard of the castle had always been maintained by professional gardeners: trees small and symmetrical, bushes well pruned, lawn cut until every blade was the same height. She had thought it was the greatest expression of beauty.
Until now. She took a deep breath of the air and couldn't help an invigorated smile; she thought she might even be able to forget why she'd come here in the first place.
The grove was bigger than it had looked from the outside. Birds chirped cheerfully from their perches, squirrels chattered as they jumped blithely from tree to tree. Zelda wished suddenly that she could just come here everyday instead of going to classes. But that was no real answer; and then her problems were weighing on her just as heavily as before. Angrily, she felt the tears begin again, and she wiped them away in vain every few moments as she continued forward.
Unexpectedly, she stepped out into a clearing. Squinting against her abrupt re-exposure to the sun, she raised an arm up to shield her face; but soon her eyes became accustomed to the light. She looked around.
It wasn't a large clearing; certainly not as large as the courtyard. And the grass here was longer than that of the forest, nearly to her knees. But all was still and silent; any breeze that might've been was blocked by the trees. With a sniffle, Zelda began to wade through the grass toward the middle of the clearing, disturbing a butterfly or two as she went. It really was beautiful here. But, right now, it was hard to properly appreciate it. She sat down in the grass.
And began to have a suitably first-rate cry.
"Get out of my forest."
Zelda glanced up in startled confusion to find the source of the voice; a boy, by the sounds of it. But there was no one around. She wiped her face and got to her feet again. "It's not your forest, is it?" she demanded, not sure if she was more upset about being observed or the discourteous interruption.
There was no answer for a few moments, but Zelda thought she could hear someone moving in one of the trees. She glanced up into the leaves and branches around her and still couldn't see anyone. "Who are you?" she tried again, not caring that her voice was unsteady. They had probably seen her crying; they had no idea what she was going through. She was not going to put her manners back on in the face of such inconsiderate rudeness. "This isn't your forest. I have as much right to be here as you do."
"It is my forest. And I'm ordering you to get out."
She laughed a little, surprised by the ring of authority in the boy's tone. "You can't order me to do anything. You're just a boy."
"And you're a trespasser. My father is the Orator, and everything you see is under the guardianship of my family. You can't go anywhere without our…my permission."
Zelda felt enlightened. The Orator's son; this was the boy the instructor has sent his son to find, without success. "Well, I'm the princess of Hyrule, and you're in trouble for not being in class today. Your father was looking for you."
There was a sudden rustle of leaves from above, in a tree to her left, though it stilled quickly enough. "I don't have to attend classes," the boy (Sheik, Zelda seemed to remember) declared impatiently, though his tone seemed to have lost a little of its brash confidence. "I already know everything I need to know to be the Orator."
"I already know everything I need to know to be a princess, and I have to go," Zelda retorted, and only realized after she'd said it how much it had sounded like a complaint.
"Then why aren't you there now?"
That was a good question. "Because I can't do the exercises," she answered as honestly as she cared to. "You're father seemed to think you should've been there," she added, not eager to explain herself further.
"My father thinks I should do a lot of things. But I'm going to be the guardian of the royal family one day." There was another sudden rustle, and Zelda gasped a little as a boy, not much taller than herself and with a shock of yellow hair that hung half over his face, dropped down into a crouch directly in front of her. He wore blue, a dark, attractive contrast to her drab brownish outfit, and might've come across more like the son of the Orator if his clothes hadn't been dirty and ripped in places from climbing in trees all day. "Were you telling the truth?" he asked abruptly, looking her over and seeming to seriously contemplate her attire. "Are you really the princess of Hyrule?"
"I am," she answered, and stood a little straighter. "My name is Zelda."
This boy didn't laugh, or even show the slightest hint of amusement at her name. "Zelda," he repeated shortly. And then, "You don't look very royal."
She scoffed slightly, not exactly offended. She knew what she looked like. Impa had even brought her a small mirror. "That's because I'm not wearing my dress or my headpiece."
"Sounds uncomfortable." He was walking around her now, slowly, as if she was some oddity to be examined.
It immediately made her feel self-conscious, but at least someone here was acting like a regular person, not all stiff and silent. "It's not. I told you my name, the proper thing to do is introduce yourself."
"Sheik," he mumbled briefly, and finished his examination. "You look fine to me. Why can't you do the exercises?"
"It's not that I can't do them," she tried to explain. "I just…don't know how."
"They're easy."
"Maybe for you. You've lived here all your life." It was strange, she thought. Link had been the first time she'd ever had a conversation with someone her own age, and he had been wide-eyed and fairly quiet the whole time. This boy was nothing like that; in fact, he seemed completely willing to believe that he knew everything better than everyone else.
"That shouldn't make a difference."
"Well, it does. I should go back before someone looks for me. The classes are probably almost finished." She began to wade through the grass again toward the trees. She'd come here expecting some privacy in which to weep herself weary, but bantering with this boy had done the same thing: sometimes people just had to do the hard things they didn't want to do, or they would never get done.
"Wait."
She glanced over her shoulder and came to a slow halt. "Yes?"
"You can come back here tomorrow." He was standing straight, almost the epitome of gracious sovereign, if not for the rips in his clothing. "I promise to teach you the exercises, if you promise to tell me what a guardian of the royal family needs to do."
She almost said no right away. Impa wanted her to attend classes; she couldn't just not go. It was her duty to make sure she was prepared for the future. But then she began to think. One more afternoon, and would anyone really miss her? Sheik could teach her the exercises, and then she could go to class the next day and be able to participate. Maybe…
She nodded slightly.
"Good. Tomorrow." And, with a speed that surprised her, he hopped up to grab the nearest branch and disappeared back into the trees.
Zelda returned to watch the last of the exercises, feeling somehow lighter, more hopeful than before. And when the teacher called them back into the building, it quickly became obvious to her that no one had even noticed she'd been gone. Tomorrow, she determined resolutely. She would start the journey to becoming the princess Hyrule needed in order to help the Hero of Time.
