For awhile, everything I picked up was accompanied by the Item Acquisition Theme.
It was dawn. The sounds were wrong. There were too many sounds. The smells were wrong. His eyes struggled to discern the odd, tan sight above him while his long ears picked out the notes of the unfamiliar morning melody. He heard a muted thunder too regular to be from the sky, far-off voices too deep or clear-voiced to be children, and the flapping noise of the tent walls did not match the schuss of wind in the grass or the soughing rattle of tree branches. Musty, rangy sweat filled his nose, the scent of mature bodies, full size bodies. There were familiar elements: his bear fur still enrobed him, rustling and rubbing like only the thick leather and fur could, but another more sinister noise caught his attention. Fire. Fire crackled nearby, and not with the hissing of coals in morning moisture. Apprehension filled his guts, these alien aspects assaulting the recently enforced routine of travel on the plains, and they were even farther removed from his forest.
Link sat up slowly, recognizing the wondrous inside of Talon's conical tent, and the treasures that filled it. His head was swimming with slumber, and a mighty yawn split open his face. It felt odd to wake up so nearby a roaring fire, especially one tended by such a beautiful woman. Malon looked up, acknowledging the awakening guest with a little beam. She sat next to the hearth, prodding something within a disheveled pile of furs. It even growled and snerfed like some monster! But Link suspected it was a Talon-wrap, and not some mysterious creature. Link swiveled his gaze, noting Gerick and Ingo were nowhere in the warm lodgings.
"You lazy jackrabbit, the sun's been up for nearly two hours!" the redhead yapped, not stopping her ministrations to rouse the body on the ground. "Don't make me get the fire poker, Pa, but if you're not up and out of bed this instant-"
"Hurright, I'm up, Malon, whew," Talon blurted, pushing away his sleeping robes and stumbling to his feet into wakefulness. Still wearing the rumpled clothes from the day before, he staggered out of the tent.
"He's always a little slow in the morning," Malon said to Link, nodding regularly until Talon poked his red-eyed, puffy face back through the flap.
"Come on, you're probly full to burstin'," He beckoned Link with an uncoordinated wave, holding the door open. The boy felt his own need and rolled to his left out of the fur, catching his knee on the edge of the bed. Faltering, Link glared at the raised bed, unused to sitting or snoozing on anything but a low log or the ground. His bladder bit at him again, and he quit the tent to follow Talon. The morning was gray, and wet, and hurried their steps to the adjacent bluff overlooking the river.
After a week of blue sky and poofy clouds, the steely, heavy bulkhead of nimbostratus seemed to oppress the plain, Link decided, avoiding turning his face into the worst of the fast-slung raindrops. The rest of him was fair game, covered only by the leather loincloth, and the buckets of water dripping heavily down from the sky coated his grimy skin with vigor. He curled in on himself, trying to keep the stuff out of his armpits, and his fingers automatically touched his belt to check breach, knife, sling, pouch and, quite recently, sword. But it wasn't there. Calming an apprehension he didn't know was brewing, he remembered the ubiquitous sword at his hip rested near the bed he rolled out of when he didn't feel its presence bouncing next to his thigh. Although he hadn't felt the need to stop traveling and practice swordplay, not expecting the Hylians to find him so soon, the short, child sized blade was a staple on his belt after eight days, feeling incomplete without it. Surely, he could get away to experiment. Link also recognized his disadvantage here in the settlement: he had to learn by immersion, not the careful observation and trial and error of his childhood. There were so many people in Talon's clan, and they would all be observing him! They would probably listen for any word on him, hungrier than Talon for information on the "Forest Devil." The thought was enough to induce a belly flop, on top of the chilly rain and shivery moisture.
There were fewer people milling about the distant fire, mostly because of the rain soaking into the foot-flattened grass and dirt-becoming-mud of the busy areas in the main camp, but Talon led them away from the site to a sharp ridge cut into the prairie by a fast flowing creek. A few trees dripped miserably from across the wind-sheltered bluff. It was swollen beneath the bank, but the water was no danger to them any time soon; the Lons picked the high ground for their portable summer home, with the little river lazily looped around the northern, lower side while the flock of white abodes perched on the swelling of land. As man and boy are wont to do, they watched their own morning water meet the big muddy stream, instantly lost in the turbid flows. Then, a single purpose between them, Link and Talon trudged back to the tent and tumbled inside.
"How'd you see the sun through that rain?" Talon accused of his daughter, wringing water from the fringe of hair on his cheeks. She smirked in retort, still sitting by the hearth. "Thought you were pretty foxy, didn't ya. Well." Noticing his damp clothes, Talon shucked himself out of the blue top, letting it land on a rug and whipped the blanket from the ground and hung it over his shoulders. He gave a great yawn and a stretch and Talon bent over, slowly lowering his posterior to the bed where Link slept, and inviting the boy to sit. Link made himself comfortable beside the man, ran his palms over the thick blanket of his bearskin, thinking soft beds like these were great medicine to a travel-weary back. Twisting some of his body, relaxing stiff muscles, Link realized he could be free from the weight of his pack today, as he spied it hiding in the alcove between the entrance and the bed. The drops of water from the sky still clung to him, and the fur under his fingers was quickly swept away and draped around his neck, warming shoulders and negating the chill of the storm, also mirroring Talon's example.
Talon looked around. "Where's the fairy? Navi? She curled up somewhere this morning," he said, referring to the wee hours when the fire was reduced to embers and no one could stay awake to listen to or tell more stories.
"Here I am," chirped a satisfied little voice from the rafters. As one, Link, Talon and Malon gazed up at the wooden poles, and in the very heart of the tangle, the tiny blue form was comfortably sprawled among the supports. "I'm used to sleeping in trees, and I've never had central heating before," Navi testified, rolling out of her bed into the air above the fire circle, suspended in the empty space by her clear wings. She righted and floated down, gracefully hovering near Link, standing just inside the door.
"Now that we're awake," Malon pulled a large metal container with a tight-fitting lid from the stores between beds, opened it and began handing out thick squares of bread to her father and Link, taking one each, and then set a couple of tin cups next to ring of metal surrounding the fireplace. "We can have a bite of breakfast, and wait for the rain to stop." She poured hot water into them from a kettle on the embers, put the scorching vessel on the ground far from where it would burn her, and from a compact wooden jar that also resided in the pan, Malon spooned a little brown powder into each cup. Link watched interestedly as the buds of dried sumac blossoms were added to the untried brew, and then a minty scent danced below his nostrils. There was no menthol edge like spearmint or even the sweet bite of peppermint, but a grassy perfume filled the lodge.
"What kind of tea is this?" Navi asked before Link could get the words out of his mouth, and sated her curiosity by closely inspecting the beverages, edging around the rim of a cup, testing a finger in the liquid. In a little pop, she sucked the tip of her digit clean of the drink. "Mm. Not bad," she commented, her face pleasant.
"It's just our morning brew, helps get the stomach working," Talon reached for his cup from Malon. He took a long draught, sighing just as deeply when he drained half the drink.
Link looked into the steaming poussoi of the tin cup, swirling the red-tinged tea, and analyzing the dried plant's smell. When his tongue was finally rewarded with the flavor, the mental imprint of bunkweed ignited, its brassy, basic smell reminiscent of the incense burned to chase away bad dreams. He sipped it slowly.
Absorbed in the hot drink and to his tastes, sweet bread, Link and the Lons watched abstractedly as Navi wrestled with a corner of bread for some time before she dipped the difficult tidbit into Link's tea and rewarded herself with the soggy crumb. Malon collected empty cups, replaced the lid and slid the pan away.
"With it raining, and if you aren't opposed," said the Hylian woman in a cajoling voice. "I'd love to hear more about the forest. I don't think Pa would mind waiting to start the day." She flashed a winning smile to her father, who could only shrug, signaling his preference to keep his mustache dry.
"The hands should be able to hold a few muddy cows without me," Talon supplied slyly, obviously glad his daughter breached the question.
Heat flushed Link's face. He liked these people. After a long night spinning yarn, they still wanted to listen, but not just to sit inert and let the tale wash over them. No, they got caught up in his narrative, told simply from his heart, with Navi's pinpoint facts for emphasis; at the point when Gohma appeared, Malon looked terrified at Navi's description, and Talon clamped his teeth for anger at the Scrub brothers. A lump in his throat made Link gag on the memories of tale-telling nights, where no one but Saria listened with interest, and it took the greatest uprooting transformation to show the other Children he had something interesting to say. Out here, he thought, would he always refer to the plain as outside the forest, even when he was no longer a woods-dweller? Out here, he was strange, alien, and Navi was only a part of that, but Malon and Talon didn't seem to mind his oddness, and it both warmed his heart and chilled his liver to know he was more content this morning than he had ever been in Kokiri. Of course, it was still too soon for him to realize the Lon's warmth had nothing to do with the fairy, and everything to do with the scope of Hylianity they had seen. So many people in the world had loosened Talon's ideals of "proper," made him more prepared to accept the unfamiliar, whereas the Kokiri were masters of all things within their borders, and the beauty of nature provided upright, moral visions of the Order, the Way Things Are, with little room for deviation. What a downfall: a strict, unyielding code binding the Children, so unlike the elastic, ever-changing, constantly adapting wilderness.
His tongue would not be shaken loose, for now, and he felt a surprisingly strong rebellious urge in the pit of his stomach not to tell them anything more. He quashed it, the silly feeling, dubious of its integrity, and said instead, "I will tell you more of them."
"It just seems magical, like something grand, having the two of you here." Never did I imagine the Kokiri were so practical, acting the part of hunters and mystics." Malon tittered.
"Not just acting," Link said, and sitting up a little straighter, clarified. "There is a magic in the Wisest, and the Deku Tree was our Lifesource." But he corrected himself, looking away. "I mean, for their lives. Saria makes spells for luck, and charms for hunting talismans, and I never saw any fail." He let his chest swell, proud of his friend. "And Growing Lore is her specialty; her home is the most beautiful." In his nose, the remembered scent of flowering foliage blossomed. Link's feet shuffled. "It's a quiet magic. There are stories told of enchanters throwing lightning, and Hylian sorcerers who can change shape, but the forest is something different, something good. We see the plants, the patterns of their environments, how the sun and rain change the land, where the animals go, what they eat. There are no better in Forest Lore than us." He balled a fist and gently rested it in his other hand, waiting for a reply.
"I imagine it takes some sort of magic to survive in such a monster-infested place. All them scrubs and evil spiders, and, what'd ya call them…Babas?" Talon said.
"Hardly infested, Talon," Navi interjected. "There may be a few colonies of scrubs, but Gohma spiders are incredibly rare. The conditions for their growth are absolutely the most specific. The weather can't be too warm, wind can't blow too hard, and their diet is very picky. They usually dine on birds until they grow too large, and have to leave the treetops, and then they switch to furry prey. But they're not evil. They just try to survive, like the rest of us. And sometimes, their presence is just too near for the Kokiri, and a Champion must take the life from one of the forest's rarest creatures to protect the others. It was a sad thing for her to die, but I'm sure a few offspring are going to make it, and continue her legacy."
Neither expected to feel a trickle of sympathy for a monster. The two older Hylians were again blown away by the fairy's impeccable logic; so pragmatic, the facts were almost trivial, and there was some chagrin hanging below Talon's mustache.
"If you want magic," Navi continued, delivering a pointed look all around, and a secret delight danced in her voice, despite definitively crossed arms. She posed her question, "How is it that just as Link needs to prove his bravery to his brethren, the rare queen Gohma appears and the instrument of legend, the Kokiri Sword, falls into his hands?"
"Like a legendary hero!" Malon gushed, stars in her eyes. "Oh, you lucky thing."
"Lucky?" Link echoed. "The Deku Tree is connected to the whole forest, all the time." Was, he amended mentally. "Was it luck that he told Saria about the sword, or that he knew the right time to send Navi?" Link shook his head, his lips pursed in serious thought. "No, I'm not lucky. At least, not with things that happen around me. Maybe I'm lucky with the people I meet." He shrugged.
"That's for sure!" Talon cried exuberantly, clapping twice. "You couldn't pick a better bunch to teach you about Hyrule!"
Link wasn't so sure, but he smiled anyway. Thus far, Hylian legend didn't exactly match up with reality, although that wasn't their fault; no Hylian had visited the forest since Link's own mother, and long before. Thanks to a perpetual childhood, Link was aware of the deceptive description of time by the Kokiri. Saria looked his age, but she was almost eighty summers old, and she would have remembered another intrusion. He wondered how old Malon and Talon were?
"There is a spell that all Kokiri are under," Link said after a minute. Navi stared penetratingly at him, and he evenly returned the gaze. He spoke to Malon and Talon, who leaned forward, dazzling curiosity alight in their faces, sitting so patiently on bed and floor. "When a life is formed, it must return to the forest after a time. It might take a thousand summers or a babe may freeze in its first winter." The Wisest's words tingled on his tongue. "When a Child of the Forest dies a natural death, he or she transforms. No one can say what the form of the soul is until after death, and then as bird, predator, prey or plant will one's energy flow throughout the forest in an unbroken line. Nothing is ever wasted, as carrion will nourish body or soil."
"Let me understand this. When you die, you change into animals or plants?" Talon proposed, skeptically inclining his head and frowning lightly.
"No, only when a Kokiri lives a long, full life," Link supplied, now doubting his decision to bring up the subject. "As long as nothing else kills them before that."
"So," Malon inserted, rubbing her delicate chin. "If one of them falls off a cliff, nothing happens. But when they're old and tired, they'll change as they sleep?"
"Uh, well," Link mentally groped for his words. Why were her blue eyes so distracting? Navi found her tongue before Link recalled his wandering notions.
"Yes, that's the gist of it," said the fairy, a little cross. "But the more important thing is to see that the end of life is not dependant on the way the life is lived. If you knew how to reach a preferable end to your life, wouldn't you live that way to ensure it? But it would be selfish and terribly narrow sighted, and defeats the purpose of a tribe. That energy should be put into the community or survival, not death. Death is inevitable, and life should be a priority. Life in the forest provides the same end: continuous use of energy. No one can control whether or not they have the honor of Growing Up, and no one tries." Put out with her partner, Navi shot a distasteful expression at Link.
Strangely, the two older Hylians sought each other's faces immediately, and Malon and Talon shared a long, silent conference from across the empty space, the redhead pleading with wide eyes, but the sun-browned, wind-beaten skin around the elder's eyes tightened.
Talon cleared his throat. "Nothing is perfect. Even though you aren't all running for the afterlife, I'm sure there's competition."
"Afterlife?" Link snorted. "Do the Hylians have a legend?" His grin turned wolfish. Malon and Talon were uncomfortably silent and stony.
The pause in conversation suddenly dominated, and all four were engrossed in private thoughts. Link reeled in his enthusiasm over the little joke, and contented himself to gaze at the designs littering the walls of the tent. The long, blue squiggles, red geometric designs and black dots were a delightful tangle of pattern to him, but the pictograms were indecipherable to him. He became so ensconced in his study that his intensity drew the view of Hylians and fairy. Link noticed.
"Do the pictures have meaning? In Kokiri, we make patterns on some of the crafts, like baskets and capes, or we draw the outlines of animals in the sand before hunting them. But these drawings are…interesting," Link did not take his eyes off the wall even as he got up to study them closely. The lines were irregular, but not random. There was purpose behind the ant-line of dots criss-crossing the decorated wall. He squinted, and was rewarded with the discovery of the dot's source: fingerprints. Hesitant, he matched his own finger with the little dots, plodding along the course they described, his belly tickling in analyzing culmination. He reached a grouping of unfinished triangles beneath a curving arc of a blue line when the embers of a thought fanned into the blaze of understanding.
"This is," Link stuttered, flabbergasted. It was magic! Pure, absolute mastery of the landscape, to record it so definitively! He thrummed with the concept, but could find no words. "How do you, why, is this? Like the hill, over the river!" Desperate for explanation, he whipped around and sought Talon. "Why is your camp on the wall? What do the fingerprints mean?"
"What are you talking about?" Navi asked sternly, fluttering towards the picture.
"No, he's right," Talon said, incredulous that the boy solved the mystery on his own, from the way he shook his head and smiled proudly. "This is a map. It tells, without words, where in the world things are."
Navi gasped, her little hand caressing top lip in contemplation. Studying just as hard as Link, she traced the path of the blue line with a finger in the air, and her gaze was elsewhere. Link felt the warmth of satisfaction in his liver when the Map Lore sunk in, and the cerulean sprite's eyes bugged. "The line mimics the river! The map speaks to me!"
Everyone in the tent made a noise of approval and pleasure, which delighted them all into a simultaneous laugh, a comical and random occurrence, and their mirth bubbled in unison until they worked themselves into a good, tension-relieving laughing jag. Talon boomed as usual, tossing his head and stamping feet, Malon twittered like shy birds into her hand, Navi cackled in short bursts when the others were unbearable, and Link's belly shook with the hilarity of his own wheezes.
Left gasping by joyful spasm, their guffaws spent and goon-lagooning those weird, repetitive after-laugh sighs with the potential to spring back into gleeful giggles, Malon broke the spell when she pushed herself from her cushion by the hearth. She still smiled from ear to ear as she stooped to loot through a wooden box, retrieving a tube of something yellowish. "Those are my fingerprints on the wall. Each day we moved, I marked the map with my pointer finger dipped in black paint. The number of dots between sites tells us how long it takes to travel between sites. That was how I learned to navigate."
"This is the magic of Hylians," Link said sagely, looking at the wall map again. "You make the world stay in one place and your feet can go anywhere, even if you've never seen that place." Suddenly soberingly serious, he questioned, "Are there more maps? Is there any world left to see without knowing it?"
Malon held out the light-yellow tube. "Unroll it. And yes, no one has good records of the lands north of Death Mountain." She added, "The desert is a big mystery, but that's a good thing." She said this with such heart-guarded certainty that Link tucked that bit of Lore beneath his tongue, in his store of things-to-be-remembered-later.
The proffered tube drew his eyes and he firmly grasped the thing, like a roll of bark from a birch, at both ends and pulled the paper to its fully extended position. Both he and Navi were excited to scan the mysterious, black, spider-leg lines that twisted into some incomprehensible location. They would not be able to decipher the message without the Lon's instruction, but the image nevertheless enchanted boy and fairy.
A/N: Many things brewing here. So much our hero does not and cannot know! The next chapters are going to be illustrations of Central Plains Hylian culture in all its horsey, dusty goodness.
I also hope most of you are enjoying the story I've always wanted to read. (How to Steal Like An Artist)
