No, I can't believe I'm posting either. But if you're here, BLESS YOU.
The further I get from you
Sheik whips around, the scream still bouncing between the mountains in increasingly distorted echoes. At the bottom of the route he just heaved himself through is the group of women he'd passed before – he can see no details from here, they are ant-sized specks flittering about in a frenzy, but he can hear the cacophony of shouts that follows. Something must have happened.
Sheik grimaces. He's only just reached the summit, to head back down when it took such effort to climb…? It's not his business and he can't afford to go back now, not when he's afraid he might already be too late for Link.
He angles his body back towards the fortress, pulls his hood back over his face, and takes a step.
Sheik! Zelda thunders, her voice laced with a fury so cold it freezes Sheik on the spot. He swallows. This is not the young, distraught Zelda he met seven years ago, nor the teasing friend and confidante that's kept him sane since then. This is his queen, and he was a fool for thinking she would forgive this.
These are our people, she says. Her disapproval tastes like raw, bitter cacao and makes him want to rinse his mouth. He has disappointed her in the past, and she will likely never forgive him for it. She will certainly not let him do it again.
Yes, my Lady, he murmurs, and turns around.
The ascent which took him an hour is undone in a fraction of the time, gravity pulling him down the slope with a vengeance. He scrapes his palms grabbing onto jagged rocks to catch himself when his steps give way under loose sand and rocks, but at least the rush sweeps away his previous fatigue.
He hears the telltale clicking of tektite pincers as he nears the source of the shouts and has a set of blades cushioned against the webs of his fingers before he even slides into view.
The pregnant woman is on the ground against the walls of the mountain pass, face pinched in pain, the bulk of her abdomen heaving with her breaths. The elder woman kneels next to her. Tendons stand out sharply on the back of their hands as they grip each other. Sheik sees no blood from here so he shifts his attention to the third woman who stands grim-faced between them and the tektite, brandishing a short knife in one hand and in the other a withered stick.
Off to the side is the child, wide eyes flickering between his mother and the tektite. There's another stick wrapped in his shaking hands but the helplessness of his gaze pulls Sheik's sympathy.
In the gloom of dusk, the tektite's eye takes on a menacing glow. It hovers just beyond reach of the stick, rocking lazily back and forth as if about to lunge. Teasing them. Sheik is abruptly reminded of the food chain, and the place he often takes for granted near the top.
That eye turns towards him with a slow whorl of red and emerald, and the tektite lets out a short hiss, advancing towards him as if annoyed at his intrusion. The woman catches sight of him then, eyes going wide as she raises her gnarled branch higher and shouts, "Run, it's a monster!"
He's actually surprised enough to pause, unsure whether to be touched or laugh.
Then he lets his knives loose to crack the exoskeleton at its weakest points and sink into the soft tissue beneath. With a shudder and shriek, the tektite collapses.
There is a moment of silence. Gritty air swirls between the walls of the mountain pass as Sheik approaches the carcass and yanks his knives out. The acrid smell makes his nose scrunch up and he wipes the blades on the very bottom hem of his cloak, knowing the dust and dirt will soon neutralize it.
The limbs twitch once, short-circuiting nerves with nowhere to fire. Sheik makes a rote attempt to wipe the sand from the corner of his eyes, breathing out now that the moment is past.
"We're saved."
There is a note of wonder in the woman's voice followed by the dull clatter of wood hitting ground. Sheik turns around slowly.
"Thank you," she says, then her eyes flicker to the side. "I need to—"
Sheik nods, and she rushes to the two other women, their patchwork clothing dulled by the near dark and making them a huddled indistinct mass against the wall. The child is still staring at Sheik, awe and admiration shining in the brown of his eyes. Sheik resists pulling his cowl higher up as if that could shield him from the unintended weight of that stare. He very carefully avoids making eye contact as he walks past. How is it that he can stare a redead in the eyes without flinching but a child undoes him?
It's the guilt, he supposes. There should be no admiration when someone looks at him. He's not a hero; he does not belong in the light. That sort of thing is better left for Link.
"Are you alright?" he asks softly, coming up to the women. He's surprised at how rough his voice sounds and realizes he can't remember the last time he spoke out loud. They all look up at once and it's immediately apparent they are related: same curling brown hair, narrow noses, and the slightly high tilt of their pointed ears. The mother lifts her hands from the leg of the pregnant one and leans back.
"We are, thanks to you, but my younger sister here twisted her ankle when she fell." She swallows. "It came at us from the top of the rocks with no warning."
"It's their preferred form of attack," he murmurs. His next words come out just as uncomfortable as they are forced, but Zelda's insistence balloons until he gives in. "And… the unborn one?"
The younger sister purses her lips and slides a hand over her swollen belly, though she seems, if Sheik had to guess at such things, still a few months from birth. "I don't think the fall was hard enough… I don't feel anything amiss, at least."
His shoulders relax despite themselves and he gestures towards the ankle. "May I see?"
At her nod, Sheik kneels and very carefully takes the proffered foot. The sun is no longer visible, murky purple engulfing everything, but there is just enough light left to see what he's doing. The swelling apparent in the soft flesh alarms him at first, but when he glances at the other ankle for comparison he realizes part of it is due to the weight of childbearing itself. He wonders for a brief, inane second if that's what his mother's feet were like while carrying him. Whether Zelda's will also swell tenderly like that when it's her turn. The sentimentality and accompanying pang of sadness scare him, like he's skirting the edges of something more dangerous.
The elder woman speaks while he inspects the ankle, rotating it gently back and forth while he observes the younger sister's face. She grimaces throughout the process but only once bites her lip and lets out a short sound. "We're indebted to you, young man. They said the journey would be dangerous, but we'd had luck until now. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't appeared. You are a blessing from the Three Goddesses, surely."
"Don't mention it," he says stiffly, and truly hopes they won't.
"Men like you are rare," she continues. "My daughters' husbands are useless, inept men." The humorless quick of his lips turns honest for a moment as he notes the simultaneous eye-rolls of the two other women.
"The sprain is not severe," he says instead of responding, setting the foot gently back on the ground. "If you had the luxury of keeping off it for a few days you would be alright."
"We do not," she replies with only the smallest wince as she flexes her foot. "But is that a surprise? Hyrule has not heard such a word in years." She exchanges a glance with her older sister, lips set in a grim line. "We will make do."
These women are strong, Sheik thinks. Despite the words, there is no sour twist of bitterness in their voices. Instead, they are focused on survival and resigned to whatever that may take. He supposes that's how they've made it this far into Ganondorf's reign. He commends their determination. He think he was once like that – when did he let the bitterness take hold so deeply that it coats all his words like dark, viscous oil?
"Given that's not a possibility," he finds himself saying, "we'll resort to something else. I can heal it enough so that by tomorrow you should be alright to continue."
"You're a healer?"
"I can heal," he says instead, putting a hand on the overly warm flesh of her ankle. An unnecessary delay and drain on his limited energy, but he hopes the spike of adrenaline will carry him the rest of the way to Gerudo Fortress, and then he can recover some of his energy. Zelda is pleased with his choice and he's mildly annoyed at that because he's not sure he won't regret it. But he can't deny the satisfaction he feels for being able to fulfill her wishes.
He murmurs a few words to invoke Nayru and feels a cool tingling feeling spreading from the tips of his fingers into her skin, seeping in and easing the inflammation. It takes only a few moments for a small injury like this, and he leans back after he's finished, curling his arm towards himself until the tingling stops. "Better?"
The woman flexes her foot back and forth, surprise lifting her eyebrows. "Incredible, it's only a little stiff!"
The other women look delighted and relieved, and the little boy radiates admiration and wonder that is far out of proportion for the simple task Sheik has performed.
"If you take care tonight, it should be enough to continue tomorrow." He dips his head in respect and rises. "I must be on my way–"
"So soon?" The older sister looks scandalized and reaches out to touch his shoulder. "My child, you should at least let us repay you for–"
Sheik doesn't hear the rest. The sudden change in elevation crashes in his ears and dips his vision in black for a moment, robbing him of sight, sound, and balance. Something touches him, firmly, menacingly, what is—
When his vision clears he finds himself with his arm outstretched, a knife wedged between his knuckles and pressing just barely against the woman's neck. Her pupils are blown, too much white surrounding too much black.
He makes a choked noise and jumps back, stumbling against the rock wall for support. Her family is silent and still, and he doesn't dare look at them. "I'm sorry," he manages, feeling sick at the tiny bead of red that springs up on her neck. "It's… reflex," he finishes, not sure he wants to admit to training and conditioning. "I'm sorry," he repeats, and shifts to leap away from all of this and never think about it again (think about it tonight, and tomorrow night, and maybe even before his life is snuffed out by Zelda's).
But instead, her posture eases and she says, far too gently for what just happened, "You've been through a lot."
Sheik blinks. "…I could say the same of you."
She smiles at that, but she's still wary; he can see it in the flickering of her eyes. And she should be, because his reaction is not normal, he knows it. He never questions his methods in the field, but here among normal people he feels sharply out of place. He's a fishing hook lying among textiles, ready to shred them should they happen to catch on him.
She lifts a finger to touch the spot he desecrated and wipes it on her cloak, where the red blends with the dust and grit the journey has smeared there already. "We've all been through a lot, but the important thing is that we're alive and looking out for one another still." She throws a glance at him. "Which is why you'll be staying with us to break bread and cheese."
Sheik reels more from this offer than from the lightheadedness. "I— couldn't possibly—"
The old woman rises, leaning on the younger sister's shoulder for support. "You're a rail! You're nothing but clothes, look at how pale your face is."
Exhaustion and shock do that, he refrains from saying. Also, not true. He's lean, but he has muscle. He is hardly 'a rail'. He thinks he hears a crinkle of laughter in the back of his mind and tells Zelda to shut it in polite terms.
Convinced by both hunger and fatigue, he lets himself be led to sit amongst them, marveling at the touch of a human, firm and warm on his arm. He did not wish to know their names, but they tell him anyway1. Athela and her son Roem, Zayra, and the old woman who says to simply call her Maw. Roem chooses to sit next to Sheik and the proximity of the child makes the hairs on his arm rise.
Sheik hesitates, loathe to extend conversation, but this is the chance to gather the information he'd been seeking earlier. "Where are you headed on this dangerous path?"
"The Gerudo city, of course. That isn't where you're headed?" Athela says, peeling the wax off the cheese. Her sister breaks the bread into chunks and passes them out, starting with the child.
"I too am headed there," he lies, and then amends, "Though my travels may take me further."
"In search of what?"
He takes the slice of bread proffered. "…Someone."
"Family?"
Sheik hesitates, and the two sisters exchange a glance and smile.
"A lover, eh?" Athela says and leans over so that the chunks of cheese lands on his bread and then turns to serve her son.
"What? No, nothing of the sort," he says, brow furrowed. He might have blushed if not for the absurdity of the question and the distraction of food in front of him. He tears off a piece of the bread and cheese and reaches under his cowl to eat. He is equal parts grateful for the sustenance and thrown off by the unusually mundane situation he finds himself in at the moment.
"Oh dear, sorry for jumping to conclusions," Zayra says with a laugh, hand rubbing her belly leisurely. "A friend, then?"
The act of chewing gives him time to realize that for the average person, those are the main categories. But Link is neither brother nor lover, and friend seems too frivolous for the fate that has twined their journeys together. Link is purpose, he is light and hope. How can he possibly quantify the meaning he gives to Sheik's life?
"A close one," he says after he swallows and immediately begins tearing off the next piece. "I was told he was headed to the Gerudo Fortress and decided to follow, but… I will admit I'm surprised, the city has been closed to outsiders for decades, yet here you are making your way to it. Has their policy changed?"
"Oh, you haven't heard?"
He shakes his head and rubs his arm absently as he continues eating. He's aware that it is nighttime, his new personal hell as of late, but warmed by nearby bodies and Zelda's contentment, it seems distant for once.
Athela rummages in her bag and pulls out a letter. "There was a sudden announcement. We got word of it from our husbands, who were at work rebuilding the bridge over the Zora River." She scans it and reads, "'The Gerudo are welcoming people to live in their town until the war is over'. Even men."
Sheik is suspicious. The Gerudo aren't particularly charitable or welcoming at the best of times, much less in the midst of a war. "Why the sudden change?"
"My husband said it was all thanks to someone they're calling the Hero. Here, take a look yourself." She hands him the letter. Sheik has to place his food in his lap in order to take the letter and hold it over the fire with both hands. In the flickering light, he reads about how Link's influence convinced the new chief to decree that the Gerudo are to open their city to refugees. The carpenters are hoping to find steady work building housing and are inviting their wives to take refuge from the war with them. There are too many details missing for him to be completely alleviated of all suspicion, especially now that leadership must change from Nabooru after her awakening as a sage... but he almost laughs. If there's anyone capable of turning the Gerudo into allies, it's Link. He can at least trust that. Maybe… a flicker of hope tickles his throat. Maybe Link is there, in the Gerudo Fortress, safe and sound? Delayed due to building alliances and nothing more dangerous?
(guts-spillingface-sinkinghead-rolling-deathdeathdeath)
His arm throbs sharply, suspicions crashing back like a wave that had only receded momentarily. What if Link isn't there after all? What if it's all a ruse? What if Ganondorf has found out about him, and is luring him away from Link?
Sheik… Zelda warns. You're jumping to conclusions. You're doing this to yourself.
Sheik shudders, hiding the motion by handing the letter back. Zelda is wrong though. It may be his voice, but it's not him, he has no proof, no reason, he knows it and yet —
She's right, there is something wrong with him. He takes a deep breath and looks directly at Athela, forcing himself to focus on the here and now and not the thoughts clambering up his mind to block his vision with sights he does not want.
"It sounds promising," he says instead.
She nods enthusiastically. "We were nervous about the proposal at first, but it seems the Gerudo are acting in good faith."
Zayra also nods and places both her hands on her belly. "Anything is better than Hylia - between the monsters and unsteady harvests, it's a hard place to raise children."
The child, Roem, looks up from poking the fire with a twig. He is too young to have known anything but a war-torn life. Sheik wonders how that compares to his own upbringing. Sheik was caught in the middle, born at the end of genocide he never personally experienced but bore the heavy effects of, and trained to take on a future calamity that was prophesied but not specified. Sheik remembers the child's helplessness when facing the tektite, a look that screamed this isn't a world of my choosing. It's hard, he supposes, when the world is out of your control. Sheik remembers, in a distant way, what it was like to fear Ganon's return and the sacrifice it would require of him, but he does not fight his fate and its twisted ways. At some point the world becomes your own to mold or traverse, and you resign yourself and your will to it.
Sheik realizes he's been staring at the child, and the child stares back.
"Why don't you take off your scarf to eat? Isn't it annoying?"
The women try to shush him. Sheik continues staring. Does he explain? Or does he forgo tradition and comfort for the sake of avoidance and simply take his cowl off? Maybe it's the fullness in his belly and Zelda's warm contentment seeping into him that has him feeling… safe. Surely there is no harm? Revealing himself here should not put Link or Zelda in danger.
"It's a tradition… My people don't usually reveal their face outside of home."
The old woman's eyebrows rise. "Your people?"
The words peel off his tongue, raw and tender to a world that has not heard them often. "…I am a Sheikah."
The old woman's eyes widen, but then she nods at him as if he's passed a test he wasn't aware of taking. "A Sheikah! Imagine that! Well you seem to be a decent boy for a Sheikah. Always some good apples in a rotten barrel. Not just anyone would save our lives like that."
I didn't want to, he almost snaps, if only to extinguish the burst of shame in his chest.
Sheik considers himself to have exceptional composure and goes to great pains to ensure that is the image others have of him as well. Underneath the cowl, however, his lips have free reign to express all emotions he cannot otherwise show. Past the shame (or is it because of?) he's not surprised at the old woman's words - she likely grew up hearing of the dangerous, perverse Sheikah who did the royal family's dirty work and practiced dark magic.
He lowers his gaze, slipping into old habits of affected deference while the fire crackles viciously in his eyes. "It was my pleasure."
He'd like to defend his people's honor, but their misunderstood past is yet another burden he has resigned himself to carry since he was old enough to understand the looks the less grateful villagers gave to him in Kakariko after he became Impa's apprentice. Sheik likes to imagine he has dignity, but honor? Honor is for people like Link, or Zelda. Sheik would betray anything and anyone, even himself, if it means leading Zelda and Link to victory.
The sisters swoop in to save the conversation. They are skilled at it, but the spell is broken within him. Even Zelda has grown quiet, knowing it's futile. He's always been an outcast and one pleasant meal with normal people is not enough to make him forget that.
There are attempts at conversation after that. Questions he murmurs short answers to. Comments he barely acknowledges. He makes short work of the rest of the meal and stands. It is time.
The sisters raise feeble protests. Insist he should stay the night. That they haven't repaid him in full.
"There are monsters out there," the old woman stammers, face open in wide shock as if she hasn't seen what he can do, as if it is unthinkable that he could want to leave them. As if she hadn't been the catalyst.
He turns to look back at them, their faces illuminated by the inconsistent glow of the firelight. Any openness they had is gone. They have good will and good intentions, but they are right to be wary. His role is not to belong, but to watch from afar.
"Do not worry," he says before crossing the safe threshold of light into the darkness. "I belong with them more than I belong with you."
I cannot believe it's been four years. It's been a heck of a wild ride, but I'm glad to be writing again! The nice thing is, coming back after all this time gave me a fresh perspective and I now know exactly where this needs to go. Still, don't expect frequent updates.
Thanks to nelitted for her out of the blue review that inspired me to continue this after all this time. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Maybe we'll actually get to Link next chapter?