Eyes wide open, he snatched it up; he stole a few glances around the inn. But it made itself clear that its dark and dusty atmosphere was not the place for such an occasion. And he was here to enjoy himself-why not sightsee, he figured. Quiet as he could, Link slipped out of bed-barefoot-and, after a few cautious glances from the doorway, ambled into the open air of the empty marketplace.
Against the dull light of dawn, Gerudo Town seemed to be a dreamscape right out of a child's imagination. Link exhaled. The stillness was a welcome change, he decided. And nobody, not even an intimidating king, was around to disturb it.
With a grin, he leaped onto the wall and slung himself over the archway, his feet dangling off the edge. Air smelling of creosote and framed in gentle light, it was all he had hoped for.
Link cradled the Sheika slate in his arms, and with trembling fingers, turned it on. Blue light blasted against his eyes, and then iit/i was there-displayed with the other runes was the symbol of a quill.
Exactly as Zelda had promised.
With the confident flick of his hand, the translucent blue quill materialized in front of him, hovering over the screen, beckoning him to take it. Slowly, islowly,/i his hand reached out and closed around it.
Purah had done a number on it-it was light as, well, a feather. It was soft like deer hide, and it fit right into his palm. It was made for him, after all.
His eyes flickered to the screen, where bridges of lines took shape, inviting him to set his words upon them.
He bit his lip-what would be the right thing to put? Given the occasion, it should be something pompous. Something that screamed, iLINK WAS HERE!/i And as soon as he had thought it, the quill slammed onto the screen, building an empire across that bridge, vast cityscapes of letters. This was what he had waited for. What he had longed for.
His heart pounding in his chest, Link read what he had constructed.
Hi. I'm Link.
...well, it was a start.
Still, as simple as it was, he knew that it was powerful-the phrase had brought the glimmer of tears to his eyes; having the ability to write it was everything he could have asked for. In that moment, he and the feather were the same. Light and of ancient origin, making itself into something new. He raised his fist in triumph, a grunt of glee flying from his mouth-
"What are you doing?" squeaked a tiny voice from below.
Link nearly toppled off of the wall.
He clung to the Sheika slate like a lifeline, and peered over the edge.
The girl's eyes were giant green jewels that occupied half of her face, and her face and body was plump from either meals or childish distribution of fat-Link couldn't tell. Her clothes were a soft red, the top breathable and her pants light. She, too, was barefoot.
"What are you doing?" she repeated.
The panic in Link's chest crept away. She was merely a child-an alone one, at that. Link leapt off of the wall, and crouched down in front of her.
'I was just,' he wrote, considering himself for a moment, 'sitting around.' He stared at the screen, and it was a few moments before he showed it to her.
"Oh. What's that?" She pointed a chubby finger at the Sheika slate.
He blinked. How was he to explain such an ancient piece of technology to a small girl? His quill quivered in his hand for what seemed like centuries before he put:
'Something that helps me talk to people.'
"But you aren't talking."
'Write to people, then.'
"Like me?"
He smiled. 'Like you.'
His joy reflected in her, and she began to bounce on the balls of her feet.
Taking that as a sign to continue, he wrote, 'What's your name?'
She froze like she had been trapped inside of a glacier, her grin obliterated. Her words were small when she spoke. "I can't tell you."
'Why not?'
"...cause you're a stranger."
The girl was right; she'd probably been taught to avoid those she didn't know well. Though, she wasn't great at it.
Deliberating over his words, he finally put:
'If I tell you my name first, will you tell me yours? I won't be a stranger after that.'
Her lips pursed, and she twiddled her thumbs, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "But…" Her voice faltered, and there was a stretch of silence. He waited for her to finish.
Finally, she let out a breath, and she regained her animation. Her head bobbed up and down, a smirk on her face.
"Okay."
He wrote the words slowly, more pristine than before.
'Hi. I'm Link.'
She giggled, her voice loud. "Makeela! Or, um, Riju."
He figured that now that she was comfortable, he would drop the question that'd been tugging at him:
'What are you doing out here alone, Riju?'
"Walking around. I got bored in the castle," she admitted.
A castle.
That was where royals lived.
He dodged the obvious, and pointed to the sandstone structure right in the middle of town; it was impossible to miss with the palm trees nestling on top of it.
'That one?'
"Mhm! Me and my brother live there."
Hylia, kill me now.
There was no skirting around it. He took the direct approach. 'He's probably worried about you, you know. You should go back.'
"Awww! But I haven't been out that long!"
He stood, extending his hand to her. 'I'll walk you back.'
She puffed up her cheeks and popped the air out of them with her hands in some sort of defiance. When she saw that he was undeterred, she groaned. "Ooookayyy…"
Hand in hand, they reached the castle. The sun had, at long last, reached its proper throne in the sky. The sandstone was a mellow yellow, and the room inside seemed to call to him. He resisted the urge, though-for now.
"Bye bye!" Riju giggled. "See you again sometime?"
He nodded, letting her go. A proud grin cupped his face as he looked upon her; basked in light, wrapping around her head like a halo, he felt that if she were here, the place couldn't be so bad. As she disappeared inside, he decided that he'd return. Not only to see her, but to see him.
He would meet Ganondorf again, and they would each be kings in their own rights.
Overhead, the sun was bright. So, so bright.