Meh. Some post-WW goods. But I was just feeling contemplative, actually. And I've been listening to some Dead Can Dance music. Weird stuff.

So anyway. Enjoy this random piece.

Above the Tide
by CM

Early night. On the island, it was never completely quiet. The stars were out, piercing with their weak specks of light the deep and dark cover of nightfall, and the moon, glowing yellow, cast a strange, ethereal blue-green luminance on the world. Under the sky, melding with its profound and endless obscurity, the ocean, vast and undulating black. He could see some small waves foam and glitter, like liquid obsidian. At his feet, they came to sigh and exhale, retreating and reaching out, making the sand dance between his toes, circle his feet, caress his skin.

The wind sang, like a drape billowing on a dry day, toying with his dark blonde hair, playing tunes in his tipped ear. It touched his lashes, and he closed his deep blue eyes, revelling in the feel of a free air, hearing the faint traces of song it carried across the world, and it soothed him.

Then, it blew past his face and behind him, rushing through the whispering fronds, the shushing leaves, and the sighing grass. Already, it cooled the heat of day to a fresh, clear atmosphere.

He took in a lungful of wind, enjoying the feel of night on his cheeks, enjoying the warmth of laughter far behind, somewhere near the lights, somewhere with the people.

The wind came from the west, and it pressed his white shirt to his skin. He'd divested of the green of fields long ago. Legends and traditions had become too old, or perhaps too childish for him. Forced to grow fast, to become a man in dire circumstances, now it seemed that celebrating a long-dead hero's victory did not match the wonderful taste brought by the recent defeat of evil.

He listened to the cheers and boisterous laughter, and, filtered by the wind and night, they seemed far more distant than they were. His eyes sought the horizon, where gulls played and waves leapt.

How familiar a scene, he mused, and in the whispers of the night he felt a pang of sadness for the loss of his red-garbed friend, the one who had used sage advice to guide him through his adventures, to protect him and give him life, like a father. Time had not erased the regret of his loss, drowned out by the deep, somewhere in a half-real world.

And then, he remembered the words, the wise promise of a new hope, of a future, uttered in the last breaths of the man, the king, even as his kingdom was crushed by torrents of water, a flood only gods could imagine. As always, his heart healed, soothed by the memory of a fatherly smile and an outstretched hand.

A gull cried, and the happy sound brought him to reality, made his lips twitch upward, made him smile.

They played overhead, familiar, innocent, free, and he understood his fate then, for a fraction of a moment, a miniscule second, before it was swept away again by the wind, the fresh, new wind.

He felt light.

The waves rolled.

A different sort of whisper made him turn.

In the moonlight, she moved, coming with an easy, calculated pace towards him, and the grass bended, arched under her bare foot, sighing in time with the wind. He said nothing as she came forward, stepped under the palms, carefully, unhurried. The wind played with her hair too, as she'd taken to letting it loose, and the pale gold strands curled in every direction, wild, untamed, free as she was. She'd grown out of her short vest, bought new trousers, made a new shirt. Unknowingly, it outlined her form, falling on her pretty hips, covering her small, round breasts. Her wrists still had her mother's bracelets, and she never parted from the golden anklets he'd bought her a year after the end of evil.

Her eyes, large and blue, lit up when she saw him looking at her. In a few steps, she was at his side, and again there was a relative sort of silence, broken by the sounds of celebration and festivities, somewhere far behind them.

Her voice had matured too, grown less irritating and more regal, somehow, no matter how much she tried to hide its gentle lilt. She said, softly, smiling, "I knew you'd be tired of loud events like these. They were never your forte."

"I like them," he said, hoarsely, looking back out at the sea. He added nothing, letting the sentence hang, like he often did.

She sniffed, but it was not contemptuous. "Then what are you doing here?"

He looked back at her, at her crossed arms, her suspecting look, her pink cheeks, and motioned, "Come 'ere."

Without hesitation, she slowly complied, coming at his side, hardly even considering her now wet feet. He took her arm, steadied her, and said, "I'm enjoying the tide."

"Are you now?" She breathed, looking down at the waves that died between her toes. "I suppose it's what island boys do."

"What do sea girls prefer?" He asked, absently, humouring her without quite realizing it.

She shrugged weakly, looking out at the horizon with him. It was dark out, and she could hardly see his handsome profile. "We don't mind staying with the island boys."

He smiled, not even looking at her. "That's good enough for me." And he tightened his hold on her arm, warm in the fresh night.

Silence fell onto them like a blanket, and they revelled in it. Unexpectedly, he broke it.

"I was thinking about all of us."

She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. There never was any ambiguity with him. He looked back at her.

"I was thinking about the day King died."

Her smile weakened, but she listened anyway.

"I've been thinking a lot about him of late," he continued. "Thinking about our luck and his fate." He went silent.

She asked, "What have you come to understand?"

He sighed. A gull cried, immediately answered by another. "I decided that perhaps we oughtn't keep him alive anymore. We ought to make a grave for his soul and remember, and not pretend that he'll come back to this world when the time is right. Existing between life and death isn't as good as dying and being remembered."

She smiled gently. "Where, then, does his spirit deserve to rest?"

He looked at her. "Right here."

They both looked down at their feet, at the undulating sand, at the receding waves. A gull cried overhead. She smiled more, looked up at him and met his inquisitive gaze.

"Yes. Right here." And relief seemed to spread onto the world, and he smiled too, and she made him let go of her arm so they could hold both hands. "What are you thinking about now?" She asked softly.

He shrugged, silent again.

"Maybe," she said, "you'd like to talk to someone else?"

"I don't want to talk," he said.

With a finger, he brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, pulled away, turned round and began to walk on the shore. She looked at his figure, silent. He turned back, eyebrow raised in invitation, and she smiled, catching up with him.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me why you're not with the party?" She then asked, waiting for a comment on his part. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it was either with maturity beyond his age or a cheerful kindness that fascinated her. Link, for all his innocence, hid the deep wisdom of a sagely elder.

"I enjoyed it," he said. "But I also like watching the night."

"Huh," she constantly strived to match him. "And you don't mind my being here? I could leave you alone, if you want…"

"I don't mind," he repeated. "In fact, I was hoping to talk with you."

She frowned, heating up. "Really?"

He smiled. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Quit beating 'round the bush, will you?"

He brushed some of his blonde hair back, taking in a deep lungful of air. He'd grown very laid-back of late, growing out of his impulsive phase from when she'd first met him. It seemed his encounter with evil had made him careful, and now he stayed cool-blooded even when faced with her temper flares. She was beginning to love him.

"Thank you for the celebration. I saw Beedle even got off his boat for the occasion. I don't know how you bribed him into it. Anyhow, thank you." He shot her a cheery smile. "It's great seeing everyone. Makar, Medli, Komali, Quill, Lenzo, Zunari, Mrs Marie, Cyclos and Zephos even! I'd forgotten how crazed those two were! And Valoo… It's been long since I last saw him."

She snorted a laugh. "You ought to have seen Medli, Komali and I scale Dragon Roost to talk him into it. It was a windy day."

He smiled softly. "I didn't deserve it. It means a lot to me."

She furrowed a brow and threw him a weak punch. "Hey, Hero of Winds, clearly you don't quite understand the magnitude of what you've done for all of them. They would have made a memorial ceremony in your honour any time of the day, even if I hadn't suggested it."

He chuckled. "You'd have to have agreed to it. I'm a prisoner on your ship."

"Prisoner?" She scoffed. "You always have the King of Red Lions to escape if you insist…" She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. He laughed at her sulky face, throwing his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He nuzzled her neck, and she didn't struggle.

Mumbling, he said, "I think I just understood something."

"You think?" She humoured him, oscillating from one foot to the other slowly, as he held her. At their feet, the waves came to die and retreat, surging relentlessly. "Tell me."

"I think I want to keep sailing the seas with you until I can't hold a rudder anymore."

She was silent, heart beating powerfully inside her chest. Her voice was a low whisper now. "What exactly does that mean, Link?"

He softly smiled, holding her tighter against him, not daring to look into her eyes, and hoarsely mumbled, "It means I love you, Tetra."

They smiled. Under the stars, above the relentless waves, in the fresh early night wind, they smiled at each other, and decided to wait before returning to the party.

Yeah. That's it. In case you haven't noticed, I'm feeling really tired. So no enthusiastic review begging this time around.

Although... that doesn't mean you can't review at all. Just that I'm not begging for it.

Oh. Heck...

REVIEW!

Love,
CM