Rowark sullenly walked in through the back door of his family cottage, built long ago before the War. With each pump, his heart drenched his body in heavy shame. Which words that currently existed in the Hylian language could be put together to describe the feelings in his chest? Who was even available for him to talk about his turbulent emotions in his head?
"Rowark!" came call of the happiest and friendliest person Rowark knew, who rushed out her bedroom that she shared with her twin sister and pranced down the hall in her dark blue dress. The dim candle light illuminated her golden bobbed hair with a warm glow. At her ripe age of betrothal, she stood an entire head and a half above a still growing Rowark.
But even the jubilant sound of Alexa's voice calling out to Rowark could not perk him up. A crushing sadness weighed not only his heart down, but his chin as well. "What's wrong?" asked his sister elder of five years as she tried to make made eye contact, "Rowark?"
He shook his head and tried to hide his tears. Though he did his best to hide his shame from his sister, that did not stop her from doing her best to console him, the only person in his family who would. He was too ashamed of himself to talk about it. If he had told her what had happened between him and Leggy, would she judge him to be sinful just as his best friend had just done? It was worth bottling up all his sentiments to avoid the worst case consequence.
Suddenly, her arms wrapped around his back and gently compressed Rowark's head into her warm body. "Hey," she whispered, "we don't have to talk about it, okay?"
Rowark nodded and unleashed a stream of tears down into her shawl while she patted his head.
"Hey," Alexa broke the embrace and perked up, "Do you wanna play house? You can play Mommy this time."
At the sound of playing the feminine role, Rowark's eyes dried up faster than rain did under the Gerudo sun, and he nodded eagerly as if he forgot everything that had transpired only half an hour ago. They hurriedly ran into Alexa's room, where she kept her collection of wooden figurines purchased from her favorite woodworking shop. Laid out in the middle of her bed were a figurine of the legendary Princess Zelda and another of the Hero of Time. Rowark spent much of his days in this room in the comfort of his sister. Only Alexa would play House with Rowark, his favorite game, and only she would encourage Rowark to play as Zelda, his favorite figurine.
He placed the miniature table and chairs down onto the solid, wooden floor and prepared the dining room while Alexa grabbed the miniature bed and dresser and set the bedroom. He then grabbed the Zelda figurine, posed like she was regally introducing herself, and placed it on by the dinner table.
Clearing his voice, he spiked up his speaking voice to imitate the Princess, "Welcome home, Hero! What did you bring today?"
His sister did the exact opposite as she held the Hero figurine in her hand, "Hi Princess! I brought back some fresh deer meat, some mushrooms, and some Hylian greens."
"I can make something really delicious with all that," the Zelda figurine made it way to the Hero figurine, took the imaginary food from its stationary hands, and brought the ingredients to the nonexistent fireplace. "Hmm-hm-hmm-hm-hmmm," hummed the young boy as he quick whipped up a delectable meal for his family. The Zelda figurine placed the newly cooked food onto the table, and the two sat down for a meal.
"Mmm, yum!" said the Hero figurine, "You always cook the best food Zelda!"
"Thank you, Hero! You always bring back the best ingredients."
"Let me take your dirty plate," offered the Hero, "I was gonna make some tea for us."
"Ooh yummy! Make some Deku tea for me!" exclaimed the Princess figurine as it hopped up and down in glee.
The figurines bantered back and forth like they were a wedded couple of countless seasons. Rowark and Alexa snuck in smooches between conversations to make their romance all the more authentic. But the more the figurines, one carved into a clear cut man and the other a clear cut woman, feigned affection for one another, the less he enjoyed the game. Was Rowark only playing the Princess so that he could be someone who could love the Hero with acceptance? Was he wishing deep down for the Hero to arrive and whisk him away to a land where a man's romantic fascination with another man was tolerable?
A hand his shoulder jolted him. "Rowark?" Alexa's voice brought him out of his deep thinking, "Are you sure you're all right?" He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he never even seen her hand reach out in front of his eyes. "You look a little, sadder, than normal."
Rowark did not want to discuss the day's events, but he knew the one person he could converse with about his feelings was sitting right across from him. He could no longer hide from the startling truth, so he froze instead. "You can tell me anything," reassured his sister, but to no avail. Her words forced tears to spill forth from his trapped emotions. Taken aback, she apologized, "Forgive me for prying, I won't say anymore."
His arms reached forth, knocking over the figurines, and wrapped around his sister's warm body. The last thing Rowark wanted was for his sister to think that she was the cause of his disturbed mind. Emotions had overcome his body with sobs. She stroked his straight, thin hair and brushed his cheek with a smile that bore a bit of Rowark's own sadness. She knew it better than Rowark did, but what Rowark wanted more than someone to talk to was to be able to openly express his feelings.
"Dinner!" the call of Mother's voice suddenly brought Rowark up.
"Oh dung," cursed Alexa, "We gotta clean you up, Rowark, before Father sees you!"
Both Alexa and Rowark sprung into action. She used the skirt of her summer dress to wipe away any amount of moisture on his face. He sniffled to hide any sign of a runny nose and stood up straight and forced a smile on his face, "How do I look?"
Alexa smiled back at him, "Like you're ready for dinner!" She held his hand as they walked out of the room together towards the dining table.
As soon as they turned the corner, they ran into a figure whose head almost reached the ceiling and whose body was as wide as a bear's. Timidly, Rowark lifted his head to meet Father's intimidating, downward glance. His shadowed face made his manly glare feel more scrutinizing. His judgement even, worse, "Crying again are we, boy?"
Father carried his last name very proudly. His merits alone were enough for everyone to name him Sheriff of Ordon Village, and that was not considering his brutish appearance. It was his greatest wish to pass his role down to Thook, the eldest with all muscles no fat. It was his next greatest wish that all his children would become big and strong like him. Rowark immediately averted his Father's gaze, too ashamed to meet his eyes. "Father," protested Alexa, "don't…"
"What's that?" Father raised his voice at the sound of insolence, "Don't what? Don't teach my own son how to be a strong Forester?" His large hand swatted Rowark's and Alexa's connected hands, and he lifted himself over the frightened Rowark before roaring at at maximum volume, "The only ones who can tell me how to discipline my boy are the Goddesses!"
For a long heartbeat, Rowark thought Father would raise a hand to discipline him and his sister again, a wrath he only too frequently displayed, but he gruffed loudly instead and walked past them, "Go help your mother set for dinner." Each of his monstrous legs created a loud tremor with each step, and when he kicked the front door open to take a deep breath of fresh air, Rowark could have sworn he felt a slight draft from the force of the kick.
The siblings marched into the kitchen with the heads hung low and were met upon the busy activities of the rest of the family. Before he had a chance to pick up his head and see where he was going, the tall Thook, Rowark's eldest brother, carried a stack of plates and walked past without paying attention and almost planted a knee into Rowark's face. As the eldest child, Thook had the responsibility of setting the Forester example for his younger siblings. Following his elder brother, Ryp, the third eldest, puffed up his muscular chest as he marched in step behind his brother carrying a platter of meat, followed by the aroma of smoke.
"Rowy deary," Mother had mysteriously sensed Rowark's incoming presence without taking her eyes off the stew, "mind ya takin the butter and the jam to the table?" He squeezed between his mother's long dress and his elder brother's beefy body to reach the counter where Mother had plated the cubical block of goat butter and the thick, dark red, strawberry marmalade. "Alexa, darling, mind ye helping your sister set the table?"
"Yes, Mother!" responded Alexa. Rowark followed his sister out the kitchen with the butter and the jam in his hands and set both next to the loaf of bread while the rest of the family helped place the wooden cutlery and plates on the thick tabletop, a gift handed to the Foresters by the Carvers just down the dirt paved road. Eleven seats were handmade with the utmost care for each family member, a tradition of the Carver family upheld for every person who was born in Ordon Village.
Rowark sat in his seat, next to his younger brother of one year, Fillipo, and the youngest of the family, Timur, on the other side. He had the responsibility of separating his younger brothers to prevent the mischievous youngins from uniting their disruptive power, a responsibility "meant to toughen him up". What extreme measures could Father have possibly missed to toughen the boy up? Physically demanding chores, dragging the boy along for hunts, bullying by his elder brothers, even forcing him to play outside with the preacher's son, and countless stern lectures were all Father's aims to strengthen Rowark.
The boy sat in sullen silence as he waited for Father to return inside and take his seat and eavesdropped on his family to avoid thinking about prior events. Ilia and Alexa intently discussed the day's archery lessons. Thook smacked Felton, the second oldest, on the head, who in turn hit Ryp on the head, who, knowing that the eldest started the conflict, in turn reached across with his right hand and sucked punched Thook in the stomach, who retaliated with a punch twice as strong, and Kliifa, the next eldest brother after Ryp, thought to join in on the fun by tossing a small piece of rock salt at the chaos from across the table, hitting Ilia in the forehead instead. When the frightening big sister stood up and shot a death glare into her brother's soul, all but Kliifa, shaking with terror, paid no attention to her. Nothing unsettled Rowark more than getting used to the idea that this was what maturity was going to look like.
Once the first booming footsteps of Father were audible at oblong the dining table, all frivolous activities ceased. Thook, Felton, Ryp, Ilia, and Kliifa went back to pretending nothing had ever happened. Father was so tall the top of his almost reached the ceiling, and his clothing were specially tailored to his enormous girth and height. It was only a season ago that Rowark heard for the first time a tale about his warrior father, that the Blins sang songs about the deadly Father to scare their youngins to sleep. There were even stories of Father killing another man. The mighty giant took his seat at the head of his table and stretched his hands out to his side, the cue for the rest of the family to grasp hands together.
Breaking the silence, Father signaled for the beginning of supper, "Ilia, give thanks to the Goddesses for us tonight."
Rowark's elder sister stood up from her seat next to her twin and her brother, Timur, sitting on the other side and began to pray, "Farore, we thank you for the plentiful harvest and the happy family you have provided for us tonight. Nayru, we thank you for the peaceful home and the good neighbors you have given our family. Din, we thank you for the heat that warms our homes and our hearts. Hylia, we thank you for the protection and the guidance for our people. We are forever grateful for your bounties, so we pray to you Goddesses, so that you may bless our meal and our family this evening, and so that we will forever be in your service."
In unison, Rowark chanted with his family, "So be it."
That evening, Rowark's mother prepared a stew made of carrots, onions, and potatoes for each family member with two big slices of bread and a mound of ribs resembling a mountain made out of dragon bones on a platter to be passed amongst the family. Rowark cut two slices of bread and served himself a dollop of butter and jam, but he passed the ribs platter on to his younger brother.
To which Father had to comment with a loud slam of the fist, "You will eat meat, boy!"
All eyes were on Rowark, who froze in place mid pass, as he dropped the platter of ribs, spilling some onto the table. Today must have been one of Father's bad days. The more Rowark wanted to comply with Father, the more his stomach turned in defiance, preemptively refusing entry to the smoked flesh. The only excuse Rowark could come up with was, "I'm not, really hungry."
"Not hungry, boy?" roared the bear-like man, "Thook! Take Rowark's dinner away. He shall have none tonight. Since he says he's not hungry." The rest of Rowark's siblings looked down at their food much like Rowark did, happy that they were not on the receiving end of Father's rage this time.
"Dearest," Mother placed a soft hand on Father's tensed muscles and softly appealed to her husband, "please, the last thing the poor boy needs is to be starved."
Father shrugged off her hand and slammed his huge, hairy fist onto the table, never breaking his stare from Rowark's eyes, "I don't know what the boy needs to make him a Forester. I'd say he needs more lessons and more tough love, but he prefers to cry at every hunt and squeal away the sight of fresh blood. What will it take, Rowark, for you to be a man?"
Rowark wanted to pretend everyone's eyes were not there so long as they stayed true to the table. They did not waver even as Thook reached in front and grabbed Rowark's dinner plate and stew away from him. "Help yourself to Rowark's plate and his share of ribs, a man needs to grow. Rowark! You are to stay put and watch rest of the family eat!" At the end of his sentencing, Father grabbed a rib from his own plate and peeled the meat from the bone with his teeth. The loud sound of Father's chewing at least meant that he was done.
It took every exertion of control to fight back the tears gathering behind his eyes. This was the one battle he would not lose tonight. He dared not lift his eyes in fear of letting his family, let alone Father, see his weakness, and even if Alexa could not see Rowark's tears, she knew they were there.
Rowark's stomach audibly rumbled as the smell warm vegetable broth and bread filtered into his nose. What was wrong with him?
Knock knock.
The unexpected rapping from the front door caught Rowark's attention. "I got it," volunteered Father. And when he opened the door not more than a few yards away, there stood a man that made Rowark's heart freeze.
Combed back, gray hair covered his head and face, and the symbolic white collar of the Goddesses sat comfortably at the base of his neck. Though the bishop of Ordon Village, Leggy's father, wore a more casual set of clothing, the clerical collar never left his neck. Though Father stood an entire head and a half taller than the scrawnier bishop, he conversed with the holy man like a mouse addressed a cat. They spoke a little more quietly than normal, for even from where Rowark sat, he could discern each syllable from each word normally, but this time he heard nothing but soft murmurs coming from the doorway.
A glance from the bishop spiked Rowark's heart. It was hard to tell whether they had truly made eye contact or not, but somehow, a strange sentiment shared between the two told Rowark that Leggy's father had come for him. "Yes, thankee," Father said as he was closing the door, "Have a blessed evening."
Father returned to his seat. "The, um, bishop is holding a congregation tonight in two hours. We are all to attend." Then he picked up his unfinished rib and continued his supper.
"What do you think it's about, Father?" asked Thook while devouring his fifth rib.
"Probably a trial of sin," answered the burly man, "Why else does the bishop congregate the whole village all of a sudden at night?"
Thook shrugged, "I dunno."
Rowark could not shake the way Leggy's father looked at him. The way the bishop's eyes bore into his own killed any appetite he had for the remainder of the evening.