Eller was hammering and pounding at a metal bar like it offended him with its existence when Link opened the door to the heat-blasting smithy, the rabbit skin-covered Sword of Kokiri in his hand. Any greeting he opened his mouth to spout was lost in the shrill, ringing blows, and instead held his blade up and let the skins fall from it to reveal the simple steel. Interested, Eller paused, but yellow-hot steel was his focus, and he shouted noiselessly to one of the men tending a non-vital task while he retrained his eyes to the glowing bar on his anvil.
A whip of a man ghosted forward, grinning with too much tooth exposed. His black hair was pulled back from his oval face, and his hairline was shaved far back over the crown of his skull in a style Link hadn't seen. "Mind if I…" He extended his palms suggestively and flexed his fingertips. Link held back for a heartbeat, unsure of this smiling man, but Eller was occupied. He needed to know. He delivered his weapon to the whippet.
"Ah…yes, Goron metal, you see," He was actually sniffing the blade, pinching, testing edges and sighting everything closely, from the wire-wrapped hilt to the clunky cross guard. "Pressed in one of the great forges, the Mountain men turned out blades like these as if they were sweets for a golden age. Then, when the war upped demand, they got real greedy with their prized steel." Lips closed over his toothiness. "I've never seen a dagger so archaic."
There was a longing in his tone, and Link wanted nothing more than to snatch his blade away from the man.
"You could bring a pretty rupee with the ruby cabochon on the hilt here if you got desperate," he continued in that sinister register. "You should wrap this handle with a little leather, though. Wire has a tendency to pinch when it loosens during use." All whispers of the darkness fled his voice, and the advice sounded downright friendly. He considered his own words for a second, and revealed his teeth again. "I can't imagine a Goron making a blade handle that goes shoddy, though!"
And Link placed a finger on his unease with this smith. He had no Lon accent, and while the throaty cadence of Kokiri was absent as well, he couldn't help wondering where this man came from.
"I appreciate your insight, Master…?" Link allowed his curiosity to bite him.
"Whitby Smith, young Link," he returned evenly. "Don't bother with that 'Master' stuff. I'm still only an apprentice, and Eller would rip my tongue out if I even joked about it!" Whitby extended the hilt to Link. "This is truly just a long dagger by Hylian standards, but for a boy like you, I'd say you've got a few more comfortable years with it before you have to upgrade."
Thank you, Whitby. We tell stories in the forest about the steel of the Mountain Men, you know," Link offered as his payment. The younger smith bobbed his head in interest. "There are spiders that grow twice the size of bulls, and our stone tools do little to their hard carapace." For example, Link produced his other weapon, the obsidian knife with a feather-and-antler tang, and handed it over to Whitby. "Only by steel can the monster's magic be broken, and this steel here, indeed, lived up to the legend."
The man with the half-shaven head looked up from his inspection of the dark, volcanic glass. "Is that why it smells so weird? Have you oiled or cleaned it since you stabbed the beast?" The Kokiri boy immediately attuned with his pragmatism, worrying about the equipment instead of the credulity of his kill.
"I've had little opportunity to unravel this mystery," Link admitted and accepted his knife while Whitby rummaged among the smithy supplies.
"Well," he grunted, his torso eaten by a heavy wooden chest. "I'll show you a thing or two if you are serious about using that little sticker." He leaned even further into the storage nexus. "Aha!" He held a metal flask aloft.
"My friend, Navi the fairy, says we'll be traveling, and I want to be able to defend myself," Link said quietly, relative to the ringing hammer. "I'm not even sure how to fight with it!"
"Hmm. That's fixed with a little practice. I, or one of my friends here can show you some basics before the Clan moves out." He looked at the empty spot at Link's shoulder. "Where is she? The little blue one, right?" Whitby was now digging through a drawer and emerged with a cloth. He touched the flask's mouth to the rag and twitched his fingers at Link again.
"She and Malon enjoy their time together, I guess," the boy said with an unhappy twist to his lips. "They thought I should come here on my own, since it's my weapon." On that note, he passed the sword to Whitby.
"Haha, that's a woman for ya." When he laughed, even more molars sprang into view.
"Will I ever understand them?" Link asked honestly and re-sheathed his knife.
"Goddess, I hope not, or you'll be holding out on all mankind," Whitby was gently working the clear oily substance into the metal, and Link was amazed to see how brightly it shone with the small caress. "We'll be buying more at Market, and we'll get you a bottle too, so you can keep up with your care. A blade rewards the considerate warrior, they say. Make sure to have a good towel. These Goron metals never rust, but no one likes a gooey sheath. Hey! You don't have anything for this but a rabbit hide, right?"
"Yes, it's all I-"
"Ander! Yeah, have we got anything for this size?" Whitby called out before Link could object, and another seared and bristly man with sooty brows was carrying a floppy leather case to his clan mate. The two pieces were compared, and with great relish, Whitby exclaimed, "We've got a winner! Congrats, Link, here's an authentic Lon leather dagger sheath! Complete with a stylish over-the-shoulder strap for convenience, this protective covering for your blade will keep the edges sharp."
Link stared, but found himself strapped in and carrying the newly furbished Kokiri Sword on his back without his own say-so. He blamed the scorching heat for the drops in the corners of his eyes.
A growing crowd of young men escorted him to the grass outside, many carrying clubs or small swords.
"First, you need a proper stance," Whitby tutored opposite from Link, holding his own blade. "Learn some defense, and then you can get fancy." He planted his feet, bending knees slightly to allow loose and fast evasion. "Keep as little of yourself open as possible. Present your sword side, and don't lock up any of your joints if you don't want to be injured from the impact. That's it, hold your arms closer to your sides, unless you want more limbs sheared away. Think of your hilt as the center of a pivot so you can react to a strike from any direction. Now, I'll swing at you, and show you what I mean."
Whitby raised his sword and made a lazy horizontal swipe. Link, in position, twitched the hilt in his hand and felt the lightning of steel on steel as he pushed Whitby's attack awry with the base of his blade.
"Right! How about this?" In a series of slow slashes, Link watched diagonal blows come for him, and the concept of center of the pivot was clear to him. He didn't have to dodge the erratic directions, and a simple flick of his wrist moved the whole sword in defense, turning the blade downward. Pull back to center, block upwards with the hilt, and catch the sideswipe with the tip.
Link felt as though he were drifting into a lazy trance, automatically responding with forest-agile parries and a hunter's sensitive control of his own body when a new set of instructions from Whitby shattered the sound of his heartbeat, but not the mindset.
""Make sure you strike with the sharp edge, not the flat of the dagger. Extend your arm, let the weight carry the momentum of your swing, and never put all your strength into it or you'll end up flailing. Use the center to direct your strike."
He waited until Whitby made another slow pass and Link followed his directions in unfortunate exactness, cutting edge whistling and then sinking into the man's collarbone. No, the tip merely grazed his skin in a crimson line and parted the linen of his shirt.
"Sheesh!" Whitby sucked wind and held a swordless hand to the wound. "You're a fast learner." He spat, a grimace stretching his mouth over his teeth. Ander, the one who gave Link his new sheath, handed his friend a rag to stop the bleeding. "You've had some kind of training."
"We used stout poles in the forest," Link confessed, leaving behind the calm of the fight. "Our spears are meant for close range, and we all practiced how to land blows on one another. There were never blades involved, though. I'm sorry."
Whitby studied him, and Link was sure that was another smith that would harbor resentment for him.
"Well, I should have considered you might draw blood," the whippet grinned humorlessly. "Next time, we'll draw some duller implements."
Thoroughly ashamed, Link presented his abject apologies again. "I appreciate your openness, Smiths. I hope to put your instructions to better use soon." The men shrugged, watching the back of the retreating boy looking for a clearer heart.
"He fights in the Calm, did ya see?" Ander mumbled to Whitby as the wind picked up, rustling the grasses in waves.
Removing the rag to inspect his body's leaking, Whitby replied caustically, "Hard not to notice when it's staring you in the face. I fought last decade, and the best Knights had a tough time managing to drop into it. He picks up the weapon, and…" He replaced his makeshift bandage, flinging a hand dismissively.
The average man with steel gray eyes was pensive for a time, and then cleared his throat. "The wind is bitter. I wonder if we're not lookin' at an omen in our camp."
Whitby's eyes widened. "You mean an Agent? Don't tell me you believe Sterling's preaching?"
"It doesn't seem too far a stretch, now. There's something about that kid that just raises the hair on my neck. If anyone was going to rise to Power, it could be him," Ander conceded.
"But he was reared in Farore's backyard! He's got Courage, no doubt!"
His friend sniffed. "He didn't know Her name. And we haven't heard him swear against Din, have we?"
Whitby was silent.
Stupid. So stupid! Why did he have to hurt Whitby? Link mentally pummeled himself on the way back to the Longhouse, berating his calm precision and just how easy it was to extend his hand in that way that turned the blade from blunt to edge. The Kokiri sword was in the new sheath, guiltily comfortable on his back in the security of protection. There was no way he could unlearn things, and his liver was pulsing with derision for Navi. This was her idea, though he was the one to go to the Smiths, and he was sure she would point out that he didn't have to go at all. Even when she wasn't by his side, he could still feel some shadow of her watchful disapproval when his thoughts turned this way, and bitterly, he let it go. Link wanted only to forget the embarrassing mistake and move on from the Lon life.
As unobtrusively as he could manage, he opened the doors enough to slide through and slunk to the door that held Talon's quarters, repeating his entrance style.
"Ooh, a sheath!" Malon cooed, letting Navi inspect the contents of her kitchen crate near the fireplace. "You weren't gone for very long. Learn anything?"
Link opened his mouth, halting, and told them, "It's Goron steel, older than the Smiths are familiar with, and the ruby on the end is valuable." He rubbed his knees, thinking. "Whitby, Eller's apprentice, taught me a little about using my dagger. I cut him when we practiced." Link did not look up.
"Did you mean to?" Navi poked.
"I, well, I don't think so, but I waited until he was in motion for the next swing, and I just…I went for it. I didn't want to, but I could." The fairy would not let him leave her eyes, and she seemed to be scouring his soul in that penetrating look. "I'm sorry I did." At that, she was satisfied with his honesty and confusion.
"Weapons are tools, Link," she began. "To think that they'll do anything other than cause injury is stupid." She threw his own thoughts at him to make her impression. "Your sword killed a Queen Gohma, and tasted Hylian blood, both at your hands. The sword cannot act on its own, and you, as the wielder, must be in control of your sword and instincts. At all times." Her tiny voice was adamant. "You see what will happen when you don't have control or mastery. I say you practice on grass until you can manage to swing your blade without hurting the nearest body, or yourself."
"Do you really think that's necessary?" Link spewed acidly. "I can control it, I just-"
"What? You cut somebody when you apparently didn't mean to. How is that control?"
When Link didn't answer Navi, Malon volunteered her advice. "Well, for now, you know more about the blade than you did before. We can hold off the bandits, if there are any, and you can practice safely along the way." She was replacing the pots and pans in her crate, the implements rattling in homey clanks. "Everyone makes mistakes, and you will keep this lesson closer to your heart for making those mistakes." Her smile held the wonders of sunrise, and Link breathed deeply of her horsey, feminine scent.
Eager to move on, Link removed his sheath and placed the whole assembly next to his bed frame, reaching next for his pack. He pulled the ocarina from his belongings, and tenderly cupping the instrument, showed Malon Saria's last gift.
"But do you play?" the red head enquired gently, bemused by the charming little ocarina shaped like a peach-colored songbird.
"Well, I know a little about how to play it," Link turned the thing over, revealing two thumbholes in the bird's belly. "I want to learn more, though."
"You could learn everything, couldn't you?" Malon observed candidly as she shut the kitchen box and proudly sat on top of it. "I know a song, and maybe I'll teach you, but you gotta promise me something, Link." Her arms crossed and her blue eyes glinted.
"Anything," he said, a little dreamily, to Navi's ears.
The Lon woman closed her eyes, and opened them again slowly. "Never doubt your decisions. You are such a true soul, Link, a rare young man with the ability to take on whatever task someone can throw in front of you. Stand by your beliefs and let your heart speak to you when you are most lost."
"This sounds like goodbye speech," Navi said sadly.
"Oh!" Malon snuffled, waving the fairy off. "We know you won't be staying with us much longer than our trip to Market. There's too much of Hyrule left out there for you two to see. So," she said with a straight back and radiant smile. "Think about your good time here when you play my song."
"I will," Link promised, gorge rising and his own glacial blue eyes misting. "I will."
"Alright. Now, don't laugh at my voice," Malon chuckled. "I've never been a performer, but I sing to the horses when I'm alone." Taking a deep breath, she crooned, bittersweet:
"Rolling plain,
Endless sky,
With you my heart flies high.
Like the hawk on tireless wings,
Keep me in your talons.
All my love,
All my soul,
You're the one in my heart.
I'll always be with you, never to part."
Leaving the melody behind, her voice swelled to a new bridge.
"Every time you hear a song on the wind,
Sigh and remember it's me,
If your heart fills up over the brim,
Look to the sun and you'll see-"
She dropped back to the melody of the lyrics.
"Here I am,
In your arms,
No matter what comes
Trust that I'll be with you,
Just look to the sun…"
Malon ended on a lingering whole note, the last phrase's resolve completing the song in moving finality. There were no beautiful songs like this in Kokiri, no lilting music like the trot of the horse and the endless waltz of the wind in the grass, and no lyrics that remembered a mother in such heart-wrenching detail.
"She and Pa wrote that when they knew I was on the way."
"And how does that gruff voice wrap itself around a lullaby like that?" Navi choked through emotion.
"Very carefully," Malon said dryly. Link put the ocarina to his lips and together, he and Navi and Malon worked over the notes until he could run through her song with little fumbling. At the end of two hours, the three older men came back to the room, and were treated to a little impromptu concert.
Talon was weeping by the end of the recital, Gerick was swallowing with the effort to keep his tears back, and Ingo wore and oddly warm smile as he ignored them.
"This is a grand power," Navi whispered in Link's head. "Music has extraordinary power, doesn't it?"
The little ocarina in Link's hands suddenly seemed as dangerous as the Kokiri sword.
Packed, ready to get going and more than a little perturbed at how fast time insisted on moving, Link, Navi and the Lons stood idly by their wagon and saddled horses as they waited for all the preparations to reach completion, and then, the trip to Market could begin.
A sudden tap on Link's shoulder jolted him.
"Zephane," he said, modest and surprised.
She blinked at him, communicating some deeper message in that blue gaze which he couldn't decode. After a silent, interminable moment, she looked aside, and said, "May I speak to you?" Her eyes hinted towards Navi. "Alone?"
He stared at her, blinked and processed the request. "We're ready to go."
"Please?"
Malon and Talon exchanged a look, and assented with understanding nods. "We're not going anywhere just yet," the patriarch said offhandedly.
Link almost wished he'd refused outright, but Talon's sanction sealed the offer. He and Zephane plodded away from the train in quiet contemplation, making a wide circle around the compound.
"Will you come back soon?"
"Aren't you and your family going too?"
"No, we're staying," Zephane revealed, her boot plaintively stomping the sod. "The Tanner Clan is a close tie, and we promised to help with the chore load."
Link thought on it, listening to some plaintive animals being hitched to the loaded wagons. "I'm not sure when I'll be back," he said. "There's so much world out there, and in the forest where I grew up, and out here, with-" He nearly said 'you.' "With the Lon Clan, I've seen so little of Hyrule. I think there's more I'll be seeing before I come back."
"I see," she admitted with a pout. "You will bring me a gift when you do. Something very pretty."
Link was about to snort. It was a ridiculous demand of him! He thought about the music lesson. "I'll learn a new song, and I'll play for you."
They were coming back to the train's staging area at the front of Homestead.
"Link…" Zephane looked down in mute disappointment. "I…I'm sorry. I was a stupid brat when I…"
His pinky tingled. It was a price, but he was sure the reward would be well worth it, and not just for Link. Zephane was part of this now, too, by her involvement, and his blood debt. He put his whole hand on her shoulder in the sign of Kokiri siblinghood. "There is little to forgive. When we meet again, we may understand better."
"Alright Lon Clan, let's get ready!" Talon bawled from the head wagon.
"I'll see you again, Zephane." He left her side, cryptic comfort hanging in the air with her palpable heartbreak.
No one mentioned his return to the group, but it was clear they waited for Link before moving out. Malon and Talon rode on horseback now, leaving Ingo and Gerick to drive the horses carrying their essential belongings. As soon as Link vaulted himself up into the carpeted bed among the familiar boxes, Talon wheeled his red and black mane horse and shouted to his kin, "The Annual Tribute will be delivered in a week's time! We stay until the second moon change and will return for the gourd harvest. Brothers and Sisters, move 'em out!" With a cheer, the train creaked into ponderous motion and trickled through the front gate onto the plains.
And so, Link, the Lon Clan and their herd of cattle started the journey to the northern Hyrulean hub, Market Town.
A/N: Finally! We move out and get into the meat of our favorite legend. Oh, the surprises that await our hero...
