Broken hearted, devastated beyond any punishment a leader could bestow, Link flopped to his belly in the dirt, rolling, sobbing, clenching at dust and nearly enjoying the sweet agony as he choked on the fine sediment in the air about him. He shouldn't be mad. The Deku Tree spared his life. Saria taught him to survive. But.
And it was a big but.
But his entire racial identity had been a lie.
He was no Kokiri. In fact, he was a Hylian, borne of an adult elfin woman and man. He was not plucked from the branches of the Deku Tree.
On one hand, it explained his lack of fairy.
On the other, Saria had not explained this to the other children, thus casting him a pariah. Not that he wasn't anyway. He was a Hylian. Hadn't he even glossed over that possibility? Ideas began bubbling up. Ideas that he wanted to push away, ideas that would make it very hard to keep a hold on the sweetest of all the bitter misery he had yet experienced. What if the Children had been even less accepting of an Outsider? What measures would Mido have taken if he knew for sure Link was definitely not a Kokiri? Link didn't think the puffed-up bully could stand to kill a person, not without risking his Childhood. Blood of The Knowledgeable on Kokiri hands signaled that a Child did not comprehend a single lesson of the Wisest, the Leader or the Deku Tree. Those who murdered were sent into the deepest regions of the Lost Woods, a forest of hornbeams and laburnums, witch-hazel and stinging nettles, sumac and poison ivy. Moss carpeted the floors and the murderous "Skullkids" tread with all the twisted and demented Kokiri lore, silent, watching, waiting to make mischief.
Those who were sent to the Lost Woods never killed again. It was anguishing enough to live among the Punished. They always adopted muddy, rotting vegetation as clothing, made masks from skulls of the creatures they hunted, and no one in Kokiri was sure that any of them died. Sometimes, in the unending unhappiness of Skullkid life, raids became the sport of choice. They never did any permanent damage, but everyone knew the laughter of the Skullkids would sound when Children of the Forest awoke to their belongings scattered throughout the underbrush or crude paints on their faces. It was a tale to straighten the Newest Brother or Sister onto his or her path, though everyone was very aware of the dark, tribal counterpart haunting the hidden grove only a few hours away.
Link did not think he would end up there, though. It had been the Deku Tree's decision to take him in and fold him into the community. He had not wronged anyone. In fact, he had just been awarded an ancient, near-holy sword, killed a stray, monstrous spider queen and communed with the oldest living tree in the forest. What could it matter to be of slightly different blood? Link soaked up Saria's survivalist knowledge like a sponge, dry from the sea and hungry for moisture. And just last night, his Brothers and Sisters celebrated with him, even appreciating he wasn't a normal Kokiri.
Of course he didn't have a fairy.
He sat up, sniffling and pushing the tears from his face and chin, flinging the snot tangled on his fingers into the dirt. At last, he stood, albeit a bit wobbly with the new emotions, information and ideas. One such idea sprung to mind, and Link unwound the twisted rabbit stole from his neck. Link grabbed the sword on the ground, resting the tip in the dirt and leaning the blade against his leg. He proceeded to fold an end of the fur over on itself and retrieved the sword, carefully balancing the double layer at the razor tip. Then, in a controlled spiral, Link sheathed the blade, tucking the loose end over the silvery hand guard and around again. He stood. Link slipped a thumb under his waist thong, wedging his ruby-pommeled weapon in beside his ubiquitous pouch and sling. Remembering he carried his sharp digging stick to the Meadow, he set a mental reminder to pick it up as he and Saria left.
Saria.
She stood, unchanged from when he broke down. Her eyes still held something like mercy, as though she had any idea what this was for him, and that she could help make it better. He could see that hope in her: her chin was raised, and Link was almost able to hear the words she was planning to lay down and guide his feet up a good path. At this point, Link sighed wryly, a great welling of affection for Saria filling his heart, hoping she couldn't possibly make things worse.
"Where will you go?"
Link deflated a little, and it was with a bit of humor he said, "No suggestions for me, Wisest?"
"Don't get formal on me now," Saria scowled, even as the corners of her mouth twitched, tuning in to his miraculous breath of levity.
He shrugged. "We're still friends. I know you protected me the only way you could."
The relief washed over his friend, her fingers wiggling in Kokiri excitement.
"So. Do we know anything about where I came from?" Link asked nearly nonchalant.
The girl shook her sap-green, party-decorated dreadlocks. "I scouted around the nearest village soon after your mother-"
Link choked on that. No Kokiri had a mother.
"-Left you with us," Saria continued flawlessly. "There were many signs of men-battle: scorched earth, salt-sown fields, death and carnage." She shuddered, eyes tight with aggravation at the idea that men killed to show dominance. "Whether it was the short-eared men who killed the settlement or not, I found a half-charred house with strange symmetrical walls and shelves, and baskets full of waste!" Her nose wrinkled at the memory of the day: dank, wet, burning wood, blood, and shit. Also, it was one thing to save one's piss, letting it sit and utilizing the ammoniacal urea for it's bleaching properties. Hides were treated with the acid, lightened to a creamy white or fawn. In winter, used as a wash, it eradicated the parasites that lived in hair or crevices. Festering waste brought only disease. "On a sleeping place, which had four short legs under a wide box with cloth, there was blood and birthing fluid. No other homes showed any evidence of birth. I found a few pieces of paper, very fine stuff, so I brought them with me back into the forest, but it decayed quickly. I couldn't save any of them." Saria gave him an apologetic shrug. "The pictures were very small and thin lined, in straight rows, marching across the paper. There were little red lines all around the outside, and a yellow triangle at the top. Perhaps if you find someone, you should ask if they know the artist. Then you will find someone who was connected to your dam and sire."
Link smiled deprecatingly at her glossing over the importance of his parentage. If only Mido had known just how different the Fairyless really was, he might have been able to invoke a spark of jealousy. When a Kokiri was picked from the Deku Tree, another Child raised them to the Age of Independence, decided by the Wisest in a special ceremony. The Child who raised you was not a mother or father, but a friend, an exceptionally loyal bond with your very first friend and mentor. The pair exchanged gifts on occasion, both frivolous and humorous, made promises in the dark of night, and was a partnership for the annual Hide'n'Seek Woodwide Tournament. Historically, there was a legendary pair of Kokiri whose bodies had never been found, making them the champions thus far. And short of death, anything went. But there were stories of Hylian mothers, passed down by those Kokiri brave enough to talk with travelers, and many shared a certain fixation on fantasies about mothers. Mido, years ago, had been especially pining. Saria was his pair bond, and was Blessed by the Deku Tree's second call, the one that enfolded Link into Kokiri. What a jab that could be, he mused, though he was disinclined to really use it. Leaving on his own terms would be enough. Besides, Link's own mother tried to sacrifice him in exchange for her life. Not your average portrayal, he sniffed derisively.
Saria glanced up at the sun, judging the day only half over, and then faced the Deku Tree. Her face was blank again, serene and confident. Link waited in patient silence. Birds had picked up their tunes, the red roe deer that flocked to the Meadow cautiously returned to the clumps of tender grass.
And then, in a quiet whisper, in the back corner of his mind, he heard the distinctive voiceless Treespeech, though it was directed at Navi. Link felt more than a little awe at the import of his inclusion.
"You may go with him, my Child. There is much in the world that would much confuse him, and your profound connection to our wisdom will be, I think, of great help."
"Of course, Sir," Navi said, also silently. Link glimpsed her to his left, and noticed she faced the Tree the same as Saria. "I vow to visit all the fountains, and strengthen our forest beyond measure."
"That is good, Navi. Though I shall not be here to see the completion of your task, my Sprout, no doubt, will sprout at the moment of my spirit's passing."
"Is it so soon, Sir?" Navi asked, her voicelessness choked with tears.
"Aye. My time grows nigh…"
"Link."
The elf jumped. Saria stood to his right with resolve glowing in her eyes and hand on his shoulder. Then her gaze trailed to the space beside him, and he turned with her to face an approaching fairy.
"I know you heard me, Link," Navi said with some warmth, so with an air of teasing, pointed a stern finger at him. "If you think I'm your fairy partner, that's not how this works. I'm on a mission of my own, and we can keep each other company if you spend the rest of your life wandering around the Hylian Plain."
The three of them chuckled together.
So, Link thought, my life is taking a path I could never foresee. Saria was smiling kindly at Navi. He looked forward to the next sunrise, which was more than he hoped for in the past. Maybe things could finally be as they should be, after his quest was done. They could all lead lives normally, as the Wisest of the Children of the Forest, his partner who happened to be a fairy, and a young Hylian boy should, as they were meant to live.
He felt his very soul twinge with destiny.
