A/N: This chapter was revised as of 3/6/2016 - Polished, minor errors and typos fixed.

This chapter was revised as of 7/19/2016 - Polished, fixed a continuum error pointed out by amazing readers.

This chapter was revised as of 6/5/2017 - Polished, bits and pieces added.

This chapter was revised as of 2/27/2018 - Polished, minor errors and typos fixed.

This chapter was revised as of 5/16/2019 - Polished, bits re-worded.


When Heroes Fall

By: Selphie Kinneas 175

Chapter 2: The Hard Way

.:.

When the sun would inevitably begin its descent in the unfathomable distance, Ren would be tasked with gathering firewood for his family.

It was a routine he once loathed, but now he looked forward to it, and was overjoyed every day when he would notice that dusk was drawing near. His mother found it a tad odd, but she didn't question it; just to see her boy excitable over something made her smile like nothing else could.

Little did she know, however, that if she had been aware of just what it was that was bringing him this joy, she wouldn't have been nearly as pleased. Each and every evening since that first time he stumbled into his father's old home, he would return there. The first few days – weeks, even – he simply sat in the middle of the floor, looking around at all of his hero's various odds and ends, still slightly frightened that he would either get caught or misplace or break something. He had gotten quite good at partaking in the simple delight while still allowing himself enough time to gather the logs his mother requested that he collect; he was able to make it back home before she could ever suspect a thing.

It was something he got better and better at with each progressing day, something that escalated with the rapid ticking of time.

And, boy, did time keep on ticking by.

Those mere days and weeks in which he explored that mysterious treetop dwelling quickly turned into months, and – even more quickly – into years.

There was an indescribable rush in doing something he wasn't supposed to do, in doing something new and exciting, in learning more about his father… it made his heart swell and his blood pump that much faster. He got such a rise out of discovering an old trinket, a photo, anything at all that would give him the slightest bit more information on who his father was as a person. He had heard enough about him as the hero to write a book out of just the tales told by loved ones alone; as Ren grew older, he longed to know the man that was Link, not just what caused the infamy behind his name.

His early years of exploration yielded interesting finds, but nothing that really delved too far beneath the surface. He found images in wooden frames scattered about. One was of some of the goats from the ranch. One was of his uncles Talo and Malo and his aunt Beth when they were just kids. One was of his father's old friend, Fado, and quite a few were of a beautiful horse that Ren was quick to insinuate was Epona.

Only one picture really ever caught his attention, and that was one of a young boy that did not look much different from himself standing beside a beautiful woman. When he was younger, he wasn't sure exactly who it was depicted within that curious image, but as the years went by and he grew older and wiser, he was able to put together that it was his father as a young boy standing beside his mother, Ren's late, biological grandmother, and it was a photo that he grew to cherish and look at fondly with each and every visit to this hallowed place.

There was a strange collection of leaves and twigs beside his father's bed that he would have guessed to be nothing more than a collection of rubbish, but he assumed it must have had some meaning to the mysterious man that Ren might never know. There was also an old, slightly rusted locket on that same bedside table, along with a worn, somewhat tattered and blurry photo of a man he guessed could have possibly been his biological grandfather. But without his father around to inquire of the significance of these apparently sentimental items, he was left to only ponder what importance they could have.

Another thing that came with age and wisdom for Ren was sorrow. Each day he entered this home, gazed upon the faces of these people he hoped he could meet in these seemingly ancient photographs, and he started to realize that he would never know them. When he was young, the concept of death was one he understood, but not fully grasped. These photos of his grandparents by blood were all he would ever have of them, and the one of his father as a boy could very well be the only thing he would ever get to have of him. He hated it, and he had days where that thought alone would cripple him.

Those were the days his best friend would take notice.

"Hey, Ren! What'cha up to?" Calie asked, skipping over to him as he sat beside the spirit's spring.

He flinched, his mind having been on that of the family he longed for causing him to miss the sounds of her approaching, "Oh, uh, nothing really. What are you doing out here?"

She giggled, taking a seat beside him. Her long, platinum blonde hair was blowing in the breeze that rushed past them, forcing her to instinctually tuck it away behind her round ears. She had such a bright smile, and her eyes were a tranquil, light green color that were almost identical to her father's. She wore the typical Ordonian attire with a bit of her own flair. She had on the standard ivory top with dark brown britches, and the signature cloth waistband of the village she adorned was a striking shade of baby blue with a bright yellow tassel around it to hold it in place. She decorated the belt herself by attaching pretty gems, stones, and flowers she found lying about. She had always been more of a 'tomboy,' but that didn't mean she didn't like adding a little feminine touch to things either. Ren liked how she didn't fit into a certain mold. She was a good big sister to look up to, and, even though they were similar in age, she always found herself being quite protective of him.

"I know you hang out here when you've got something to think about. Can't hide anything from me, little brother," she said.

He smiled; he liked when she called him that. Technically, she was his aunt, but they never looked at it that way. Being only one year apart and having grown up together their whole lives (only ever being separated by a shallow stream between their households), it never even crossed their minds to think of one another as anything other than siblings.

"I know, I know."

"So, then, what is it?" she asked inquisitively.

He shrugged, not wanting to sound mopey but also just not really wanting to discuss it, "Just wish I could meet my dad is all."

Calie frowned. The topic of the hero was one most commonly tiptoed around by practically everyone in the village. He left before Ren was born, and when Calie was much too young to remember him at all. Rusl told them some stories, but most everyone else kept quiet. They supposed it wasn't out of disrespect or any sort of pent up emotion, just out of sheer difficulty in thinking about it. No one knew what had become of him, and that vast uncertainty in not knowing, the limitless possibilities that could hold the fate of their beloved hero… it was often too much for anyone to think about, even the more optimistic of the bunch.

"Do you think you'll get to meet him one day?" she asked, genuinely curious of his thoughts on the matter.

They didn't talk about it very often, in fact, they hardly ever did, but when it did come up, Calie could see how much more it bothered her friend as time went on.

"I don't know," he replied, "I want to, but I'm just not so sure anymore."

"I think you will."

He looked up at her then, and she was smiling from ear to ear.

"In fact, I'm almost positive you will!" she went on, "You just have to! Right? I mean… mom and dad talk about how heroic and brave he was and all this stuff, so… I kinda don't think a guy that did all those awesome things and saved everyone in the whole kingdom would just be gone forever. You know?"

He was silent, but he looked hopeful.

"Yeah, just… nah," she shook her head, "There's no WAY he'd just be gone forever. He sounds like he was way too cool to let anything bring him down, and if he's as awesome as everyone says, then you take after him for sure, Ren. He's gotta come back for you at least, right?"

"Mom says he doesn't know about me," he chimed in, "She's told me that time and time again, wanting to make sure I understood that he didn't choose to leave me because he just… didn't know about me."

"Well, doesn't that make you feel better?"

"I guess," he shrugged, "I just miss him. Well, wait… does that make sense? Can you miss someone you've never even met?"

"Sure you can!" she smiled brightly again, "Missing them sort of… keeps you thinking about them, you know? Makes sure you don't forget they existed. Missing people is important! Keeps them from becoming some myth, or a fairytale; keeps them real, if that makes sense."

He chuckled, "You're awfully profound for your age."

"Pfft!" she shoved his shoulder hard, toppling him over slightly into the water, "I'm older than you! How can you say 'for your age' to me when I'm clearly so much wiser and more mature than you?" she teased, tilting her chin up high to signify her mock superiority.

"Right, right… Wiser and more mature, sure, Calie. Keep telling yourself that when you spend your days arguing with Evan over what game to play next – need I remind you that he's SIX and you're FIFTEEN!" he rose to a yell at the end, trying to play it off as serious for the humor in it but he just couldn't help but break down laughing.

She reciprocated his whole-hearted laughter with that of her own, grasping her sides as they began to ache. They seemed to fill up the entirety of the surrounding forest with their sounds of joy and lightheartedness, which had gained the attention of Rusl who hadn't been too far away.

"It's getting dark, children. You need to start heading back into town," the older man declared as he approached them from behind.

"Ugh, dad, we aren't children anymore, you don't have to call us that," Calie whined.

"Listen to me, Calie," he said firmly, "Your mother and brother could use your help back home."

She sighed, "Yes, daddy," and she dragged her feet all the way back into the village.

Just as Ren was following behind her, Rusl stopped him.

"Ren, my boy, I get the feeling something has been bothering you," he said seriously, his thick brow tense.

"It's nothing, grandpa," he tried, but he was never very good at lying.

The older man gave him a knowing look, folding his arms over his chest as he awaited the correct answer.

Ren huffed and glanced down at his feet, knowing that he couldn't trick anyone with that line as much as he wished he could, "I just don't really wanna talk about it."

"Ren," Rusl sighed, not really sure where to begin as he knew good and well just what was bothering the younger boy, "I know you hate that you don't know your father. I know it's difficult living with only a mental image of this man that seems like nothing more than a legend to you."

He paused, taking a moment to observe his grandson's expression, which hadn't changed much. Rusl wasn't really surprised, though; this spiel was one the boy had heard countless times from everyone throughout the entirety of his life – he knew he needed to change it up if he wanted to make any sort of an impact.

He cleared his throat and altered course, "Link was a good man. He did what was right, and just, and never thought of himself before anyone, even those that were cruel or misguided. You know all these things about your father, how noble and brave he was, but what many people may not tell you is that he was not perfect. He was human, just like all of us, and he was prone to foolishness just as anyone would be."

Ren seemed a bit more attentive as Rusl went on.

"He did not know about you; none of us did until you were thrust upon us," he forced a chuckle then, a futile attempt at lifting his spirits, "He left because he was at last convinced to think of his own wellbeing for quite possibly the first time in his life. His trials as the hero left him…" he tried to think of a fitting word that wouldn't be so horribly blunt, "well, scarred, I suppose. It pained us all to see him like that, and your mother let him go despite how desperately she wanted him to stay."

Ren was still silent, so Rusl continued.

"Your father wouldn't want you to be upset; it would devastate him to find out he had a son he'd been missing all these years – were he around. He hated to upset anybody… he was-"

"You want me to feel better, but you only talk about him in past tense, like he's gone forever or dead," the younger Ordonian suddenly blurted.

The boy's sharp words were as subtle as a blunt hammer straight to the head; Rusl was caught completely off guard.

"I-" he stammered, but he didn't know what to say. Ren was right.

Ren forced a weak, crooked smile that was far too indistinguishable from his father's, "It's okay, gramps," he said after a bit of awkward silence.

He didn't want to make Rusl feel bad, but… nobody seemed to understand that when they were attempting to make him feel better, they were usually only making it worse. Perhaps it was because, even though they all pretended to be strong and optimistic for his sake, deep down they had all lost hope years ago.

Ren moved past his grandfather and began making his way toward the village when Rusl called out his name one more time.

The young boy turned around with a look of exhaustion. It wasn't a drowsy kind of exhaustion, but rather it was an exhaustion from listening to the same one-liners and inspirational speeches since he was young enough to remember them. Exhaustion from putting on a happy face when another villager would remind him that his father was a good man, that his father was brave, that his father would be proud of him, blah, blah, blah. He appreciated that they were all trying to console him, but he just didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending that it put him at ease when it really only upset him more.

Rusl stared into this boy's deep blue eyes for a good while, and the longer he looked, the more he saw his own son… Link. And that's when he knew what to say.

"You are just like your father, my boy."

At that, Ren perked up, and the slightest spark ignited in his eyes that Rusl hadn't seen in years.

Ren smiled, gave his grandfather an appreciative nod, and that was all that was needed.

When he reached his home, the sun was just setting beyond the distant mountains, and his mother was waiting for him at the door.

"Hi, sweetie," she greeted with a smile as she went in for a hug as she normally did.

He reciprocated, and she squeezed him tighter. After a moment she pulled back, placed her hands on his cheeks, he leaned down just a tad – as he had grown just ever so slightly taller than her – and she placed a loving kiss on his forehead. She did this every day, and while he remembered getting quite tired of it in his earlier years, he'd grown fond of the closeness he shared with his mother as he matured.

"Did you have a nice day?" she asked, finally releasing her son as she hurried into the kitchen to tend to dinner.

"It wasn't bad," he answered plainly.

She cast him a glance over her shoulder knowingly, but she was quick to return to the hearth, understanding her boy well enough to know it wouldn't help to pry any further.

"I hope you and Calie didn't get into any trouble today," she teased.

He chuckled, "Only a little."

He sat down at the table in the middle of the room and grabbed an apple from the wooden bowl that lay in the center. He polished it on his sleeve before glancing back over at his mother. She had her medium-length blonde hair piled up into a messy bun atop her head, with loose strands scattered about and mingling with her short bangs. She donned a lavender, floral apron across her favorite ivory blouse and tan trousers. She always hated wearing shoes, and so she was always barefoot. He remembered asking her why she never wore sandals when he was very young, and she always explained that it helped her feel more in tune with nature and with the animals – plus, she just loved the sensation of fresh grass between her toes.

Ren looked up the stairs to see a faint, glowing light emitted from the bedroom – Ilia must've already gotten the fire started upstairs so that he would be warm when he got home. He then glanced down the hall in front of him to where his grandpa Bo spent most of his time. His mother had told him that his grandfather used to be a master sumo wrestler, and that he once honed his craft within that wide, open room. Ren couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of his old grandpa wrestling, but he hadn't done it in years. That area of their home had long since been converted into another bedroom in which the older man spent almost all of his time. Ilia would often go in there and simply sit and chat with her father for hours on end while Ren was out and about, and Bo adored getting to spend each and every day with his daughter and grandson. The years, however, had not been kind to him. He was ill often, which was why he mostly stayed in his room and rested. Ilia took good care of him, and for that he was grateful.

"How's grandpa?" Ren asked as the thought crossed his mind.

"Stubborn, as always. But he's just fine," she smiled, "He's fallen asleep a bit early so be sure to keep your voice down."

He nodded and took a bite of his apple, the delicious aroma of whatever his mother was cooking for dinner enticing his hunger far too much.

Another thought crossed his mind then that he blurted before really giving it thought, "Grandpa Rusl said today that you convinced my dad to leave," he started, and Ilia instantly froze, "Is that true?"

She told him so many stories of his father, fewer of herself, and fewer still of their last moments together. She had known for some time that the day would come in which her son would grow smart enough to begin piecing bits together, but it didn't make her dread said day any less.

She set down what she was doing but kept her back to him, replying simply and evenly, "Yes."

"Why?" he inquired. He didn't sound angry or frustrated, not even upset, just curious.

She sighed and turned toward him slowly, "He was unhappy," she scoffed, "Well, considerably more than just unhappy; he was absolutely broken when it was all said and done."

"I know that much, mom; you've explained this all before. What I don't understand is why leaving his family would help him. Why would leaving all these people here that love him make him happier?"

She inhaled sharply and exhaled exceptionally slow, closing her eyes for the duration of several heartbeats that felt like barely half that.

"Mom?" he pressed further, wanting answers.

She was silent. She had no clue what to say. Part of her resented Link for leaving her to have to explain all of this to their son, even though it was her decision to send him off obliviously. Had she known he would be missing for this long… she wasn't so sure she would still have been able to let him go.

She could explain to her child that his father left because he was utterly ruined at the conclusion of it all, but how can the words alone put into perspective just how much Link was destroyed at the end of his journey? They can't, and no fancy variation of syllables or random combination of terms throughout the entirety of the land crafted by the goddesses could achieve that. He wouldn't be able to understand, simply couldn't, and because of that she knew it was pointless to try to elaborate. Besides… she was not about to tell him about Midna.

"Mom, I just wanna know," he tried again, "Did you decide not to tell him about me because you thought that wouldn't have been enough to make him stay? Because he didn't really want a kid?"

She furrowed her brow in sadness that he had made that conclusion before grabbing her son's hand in her own, "Of course not, Ren. Your dad would've loved you with every fiber of his being. He would've dropped absolutely everything to be here with you."

"So, that's why you told him to go."

She froze again; he was way too smart for his own good.

"He left because you convinced him to, because he wouldn't have left otherwise… You kept me a secret to ensure that he would leave."

She stopped a moment, took a breath, and responded, "Yes."

"That's still the part I don't get," he fidgeted in his seat, "Why did he have to leave to be happy?" he removed his hand from hers, and it was becoming apparent that his simple curiosity was growing into agitation, but she didn't blame him for it.

She sighed again; how could she possibly make him understand this?

"He saw and did so much while he was away... I probably don't even know the half of it. He said he felt suffocated here…" she paused, the anguish she battled with each and every day getting the better of her, "I've always related it to a bird trapped in a cage to help myself understand it better; he'd seen everything there was to see of the world, and being stuck here was like clipping his wings."

Ren glanced down at the apple in his hand, the light, exposed insides from where he took his bite slowly turning brown.

"He told me about recurring nightmares that kept him from sleeping. Anxiety that kept him from having a moment of peace. Mental images and sounds that disturbed him every second of every day. I…" she exhaled dejectedly and hung her head, "It's something I can't even grasp, Ren, so I don't expect you to."

The young boy clenched the fruit in his palm a bit tighter, "Why didn't anyone here just try to help him?"

"We did, son," she assured, his pent up frustration apparent to her, "We all loved your father so much, we did everything we could. He was… inconsolable."

He was quiet for quite a long time, longer than Ilia liked, and she could tell he was thinking hard on all of this. He had always been intelligent beyond his years, and it was clear to her that he was considering and analyzing every word she had said.

"What is it, Ren?" she finally asked, her tone flat and her voice soft as she prepared herself for whatever he could possibly say.

"I just… I can't help but wonder if you still think you made the right choice. Do you think it's fair that I don't get to know him because of a decision you made single-handedly that affected all of us before I was even born?"

Even though she had prepared herself, nothing would have readied her for that. Those words paralyzed her, and though she knew her son well enough to know that he would likely come to apologize for it later as hurting his mother was never something he wanted to do, it didn't reduce the sting.

While it hurt… it was a justifiable question, and one she asked herself every single day. Had she made the right choice? Was it right of her to determine the fate not only of herself and of Link, but of their son as well? She'd made the decision all on her own to convince Link to leave, knowing that she was carrying his child – at the time, it seemed like the only thing that would help him overcome his pain, and maybe it still was, but to keep him from his son was something she hadn't thought deeply enough into back then. And Ren… she had chosen for her boy to grow up fatherless… But it wasn't entirely her fault! She would try and trick herself, reminding herself that she had no way of knowing that Link would never return. She thought he would come riding back in on Epona – at most – a year later, all of his woes eliminated and his sorrows vanquished. She imagined that he would be the Link he used to be, happy and carefree, and that he would greet her lovingly in his strong arms.

As the years ticked away, however, she had come to realize that that was nothing more than her childish naiveté getting the best of her.

Ren could see the grief in his mother's eyes and he was quick to speak up, "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't wanna hurt your feelings, I'm just upset."

He got to his feet and tossed the barely-eaten apple into the nearest waste basket, "I'm not hungry. I'm just gonna go to bed," and with that, he headed upstairs without another word.

Ilia was left with nothing more than her own punishing thoughts. She folded her arms atop the table in front of her and dropped her head on top of them where she stayed for the remainder of the night.

Ren hardly slept, and he was up and out of the house just seconds before the sun started rising. Nobody else was awake just yet, and he was still in a fluster over the conversation he had with his mother the night prior. He hated to make her feel bad, but he felt after all of his long years of silence that he had the right to at least ask her what she thought. Maybe he could have worded it nicer, maybe he could have sounded less bitter about it, but, honestly, he didn't regret what he said, only that it had to hurt her.

He figured it would all be blown over and forgotten in a couple days' time, anyway.

He headed straight through the quiet village to that same treehouse, knowing the instant he got out of bed that he wanted to explore his father's old home further than he ever had to date. He knew of quite a many cracks and crevices, and even a basement, that he had yet to venture into for fear of being away too long and worrying his family. Now, however, it was early enough and he had grown impatient enough that he simply didn't care.

He ascended the ladder as he had done countless times before, and shut the front door behind him eagerly. He turned to face the cold, barren room, looking at it from a whole new perspective without the concern of acting quickly looming over him. All his prior visits here, there was always an anxiety, a fear in getting caught or discovered, like a child purposely disobeying his or her parents. Which, technically, he supposed that's what he was, but he decided he simply shouldn't have to feel that way. He was old enough to know what he was doing, and damn near mature enough to learn more about his father. He could barely get any information from the townsfolk, so, he figured, he would just have to take it for himself – honestly, the minimal searching he had done over the past few years was where he gained most of his knowledge on the missing hero anyway.

He started by really taking in all the little odds and ends that, usually, he simply overlooked for pressure of taking too much time. His father had so many strange baubles and mesmerizing trinkets, and Ren couldn't help but wonder if they came from some distant land, or if they had some kind of mystical powers.

He could tell that no one had really moved anything since his father last occupied this space. There were pails, saddles, and blankets in almost every corner of the room as each item came quite in handy for farming. There was a pitchfork on the wall and a lasso wrapped around it. Beneath the second level was a bookcase filled to the brim with books mostly detailing Hyrule's vast history, a few about farm life, but even more accounting the Hero of Time.

"Hero of Time?" Ren whispered to himself perplexedly, running his fingers along the dusty spine.

He leafed through the pages, skimming words here and there and gathering that this man had been a hero much like his father was, and yet, he had never heard any of these stories.

He closed the book, returned it to its former place, and continued looking.

There were many crates and even more wooden barrels strewn about the cold home. The young boy found it odd when he spotted quite a few glass bottles lying in various locations on the floor. There was a pot hanging in the hearth, and it was then that something shining caught his eye. He reached his hand into the fireplace and grabbed for what it was that was shimmering in the light, but what he found when he withdrew his hand left him stumped.

Ren furrowed his brow as he looked at what lay in his palm; it was crumpled, tiny bits of what appeared to have once been a stone or a crystal. The little pieces he had retrieved were black and orange in color, and some parts were so pointy that he accidentally pricked his finger on it. He inhaled sharply, but the quick discomfort was gone just as fast, and the boy just knew that there was something important about this.

Most of the things he found here he found some excitement in, but he would have never considered removing them. This, however, piqued his interest far too much, and something deep down in his gut told him he should take as many shards as he could, so that was what he did.

He reached back into the cold hearth and scooped up the fragments that had retained a bit of shape to them, the ones that hadn't been shattered too much past saving. Thrilled at his find and keen to discover what these mysterious remains were, he stuffed them all into his pocket and was just about to head towards the door when something else caught his attention.

The cellar.

He had seen it the very first time he stumbled into his father's home as a much younger child, but, at the time, he was far too frightened to enter the pitch black basement. Right now, however, he was feeling the adrenaline, and he could only imagine all of the amazing things he might find down there.

He glanced around, in search of something that would give him a source of light to take down with him. Right at the top of the ladder he found a lantern filled about halfway with oil, and he took a moment to contain his excitement before lighting it up and climbing down into the basement.

It was so dark that he couldn't see anything beyond the little light the lantern gave off, and while it slightly creeped him out, it wasn't downright terrifying like it had been when he was little. He held the flame up high, looking around for anything interesting to catch his eye, and it certainly didn't take long at all for a multitude of things to do just that.

His dad had so many cool things down here! Ren couldn't help but scream inwardly as he glanced about frantically like a restless child in a toy shop; there was so much here that he wasn't sure what to look at first. There were shelves upon shelves of trinkets lined up. There were bottles filled with potions, goo, and some more odd things that he couldn't put his finger on. There were pots and vases stacked up high, and there were boxes and chests littered about. Some were empty, some were filled with mediocre objects, and some were filled with things that Ren found most enticing.

One chest was filled with nothing but arrows. Arrows, upon arrows, upon arrows. How many did he need? Well, a lot, he supposed, if he used his bow quite often, and he guessed that he probably did. If there were this many here, though, then how many did he keep on him at any given time?

Ren's eyes went wide at the thought.

One of the smaller chests was barren, but the one beside it held something he hadn't been expecting. He set the lantern down beside it and reached inside, pulling out what he assumed was his father's old clothes. They were in the traditional Ordonian style, and Ren guessed that he had put them down here because he mostly wore the infamous green getup he'd heard so much about. He held the off-white shirt up against his chest, noticing that it was quite large for him. He threw it on over his own anyway, turning to face the nearby full-length mirror to get a look at himself. He smiled slightly, but it wasn't enough; he needed something more.

When he turned back toward the ladder, he noticed a huge, ornate chest just behind it. He gasped out loud, picked up the lantern, and hastened over to it enthusiastically. He set the light back down beside the chest and he opened it anxiously. What he found inside was nothing short of discovering an ancient treasure trove filled with endless wonders.

His jaw fell agape as he pilfered through the goodies, each one astonishing him more and more as he went. He found a stash of rupees; yellow ones, red ones, purple ones, and even orange and silver ones. He found a bag of bombs; there were normal ones, and there were some that looked like spiders and some that looked like fish. There was a rickety fishing rod and a measly slingshot. There was a strange mask that resembled a hawk, and there was an even stranger wand, or rod, that looked like it was hundreds of years old.

He pulled as many of those first few objects out as he could and set them aside, allowing him to dig in further and see what lay beneath the surface.

That was when he found the even more exciting bits. He found an ornate, feathered boomerang and an intensely heavy metal ball and chain that he couldn't even lift out of the chest if his life depended on it. He found equally as heavy boots made out of pure iron, and then he found a sword.

Ren's mouth hung open in excitement. He reached for the hilt of the rather plain looking Ordon sword and pulled it out. It was a bit heavy, but he was still able to hoist it up. He turned back toward the mirror as he held the sword high.

He puffed out his chest and held his chin up, "I am Link!" he declared, "I am the hero! Fear me!"

And just like that, he was nothing more than a little kid again. His inner child burst forth as he swung the iron blade at imaginary foes, pretending he was the brave warrior his father was, slaying monsters and defeating demons as if it was a casual day.

In his frenzied state of make-believe, he was careless.

When he accidentally took one step just a hair too far back, the little lantern he had been using for a light source toppled over, the oil and flame quickly dancing out along with it. He gasped in fear as the glass shattered and the spread of fire was anything but slow. In his state of shock, he backed up into a metal rack of shelves. The misstep caused him to fall down onto his back, and the heavy piece of furniture toppled over onto him. He let out a pained cry as its immense weight along with that of its hefty contents pinned him down beneath it.

He grunted and strained against the pressure as it covered him from the waist down. He tried desperately to free himself, but he simply was unable to.

"Help!" he screamed, panic gripping him in a choke-hold, "Help! Please! Anyone!"

As he squirmed and writhed for what felt like several minutes but was only several seconds, deep, unbridled fear unlike anything he had ever felt took its hold. As he watched the flames slowly (but it felt so, so rapidly) take over the wooden home and his incessant screams went unheard, he started to lose hope.

Back in the village, the sun had been up already for quite some time, and the townsfolk were awake and ready to start their days.

Ilia didn't like the fact that her son was already gone before she awoke, and her mothering instincts were quick to kick in and tell her that something was amiss. She stepped outside of her small home, noticing that some of the villagers were already out as well. All seemed normal, but she just knew it wasn't.

Rusl was one such that was up and about just as early and having been directly across from his niece when she emerged from her house, he immediately caught sight of her disturbed expression.

He made his way over to her, "Ilia, what's wrong?"

"It's Ren," she muttered, glancing in each direction around the humble village.

"Ren?" Rusl reiterated, "What's wrong with Ren? Where is he?"

She was silent as she caught a whiff of something.

"Smoke," she whispered, eyes wide, "Smoke, Uncle Rusl, do you smell it?"

He sniffed the air as well. It was faint, but it was there, "Yes, I do, but I- wait!" he tried, but his young niece suddenly darting past him stopped him short.

"Ilia, wait!" he shouted as he ran after her. He had no idea what the smoke could be, but in case it was the work of something malicious he didn't want her getting hurt.

She paid him no mind, pumping her legs as swiftly as she could. The nearer she drew the more visible a large, dark cloud in the air became from behind the trees.

When she emerged in the clearing she was all too familiar with, the source of the smoke was plain as day. That beloved treehouse… Link's treehouse… was up in flames.

Rusl caught up to her at last and the sight took his breath away.

"What could have caused this?" he mumbled.

But Ilia knew. She always knew.

Just as she was about to sprint towards the house, Rusl grabbed her forearm, "What do you think you're doing?"

She looked back at him with terror behind glassy eyes, "Ren's in there, Uncle Rusl."

"What?" he spat, "No, he can't be."

They were both silent for a split second but the look on her face convinced him.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. He's been coming here for years, and he thought I didn't know," she answered as she pulled her arm away and made for the burning home, Rusl close at her heels.

He was a bit surprised, but it didn't really shock him, "He was coming here to feel closer to his father…"

"Exactly."

Without wasting another moment or even taking the precious time to devise a plan, they both charged through the front door in a flurry. The flames were making their way up the walls, and it was initially obvious that they were originating from the basement as the usually dark cellar was unnaturally lit up. They darted over to the small opening and Ilia immediately flew down the ladder, but just as Rusl went to follow her, the top few rungs crumbled beneath his feet, the surrounding heat having weakened the wooden steps. Luckily, he was still high enough up that he was able to catch himself on the main floor of the home, saving himself from falling.

He pulled himself up and looked down to see a worried Ilia on the bottom floor.

"Get Ren, stack some boxes up, and I'll pull you both up from here," he instructed sternly, trying to remain as calm as possible for her sake.

Ilia nodded, raising an arm over her face to shield her eyes from the debris and ash in the air. She glanced around for her boy, noticing that a large shelf was overturned. She dashed to it, finding Ren lying unconscious beneath it on the other side.

"Ren!" she yelled, shaking his shoulders briefly before getting to work on freeing him from his painful confines.

He batted his eyes, slowly coming to, "Mom?"

"Help me get you out of this," she demanded.

In a flash, he was wide awake again, "O-Okay," he stuttered fearfully.

"I'm going to lift it. You pull yourself out quick as you can," she instructed, not giving him a second to debate it as they already had no time to spare.

She wrapped her fingers around the underneath of the shelf, and with a disgruntled grimace and the use of all of her strength, she pulled it just high enough off of her son for him to get himself free.

He groaned something awful as the removal of the heavy weight made him realize how much it had hurt his legs, but the adrenaline of the situation helped him stumble to his feet.

Before he could even fully gather himself, his mother was doing her best to stack boxes and crates up in a staircase-like fashion for them to get out, and Rusl was at the top with his arm extended towards them, shouting at them to hurry as the flames grew and grew.

The sound of crackling and splintering wood was terrifying, as it felt like the entire structure could cave in on top of all of them at any given moment. Whole planks fell down around them, Ren shielding his head with his arms each time he would hear the horrifying sound. Debris filled the air and it was getting unbearably difficult to breathe as smoke filled their lungs more and more with each wasted moment trying to escape.

"Come on!" Ilia exclaimed, motioning for Ren to hop up the makeshift stairs ahead of her as she needed to ensure his safety before her own.

He hobbled a bit at first, still trying to awaken his aching legs, but he only made it halfway up the boxes before another downright bone-chilling sound reached his long ears.

"Oh no," he whispered, glancing down at what he assumed the sound was. Much to his dismay, he had been right, but he had also been too late to do anything about it.

The sound was an initial spark followed by a low hiss, and he knew instantly that it was the bombs' fuses being ignited by the blaze just beneath him.

"MOM! Watch ou-"

The explosion halted him. It halted everything.

All he could hear was a painfully high-pitched ringing in his ears, and he shut his eyes as quick as he could upon impact. He felt intense fire at his legs, and for only a split second he could feel himself falling before he felt a sturdy hand wrap around his arm and grab him as tight as possible. He felt himself being pulled up, but he could hardly open his eyes, and he still couldn't hear a damn thing.

A second later, another boom, and another ringing. Another boom, and another ringing. Another boom, and another ringing.

It sounded so distant in his overloaded eardrums, but he could tell it was the copious amount of various bombs going off one after another... after another... after another.

He could feel heat all around him, but when he opened his eyes he saw only bright hues of red and orange amongst his otherwise pure white vision. He felt himself being hoisted up, and he could barely make out the face of Rusl above him, dark soot splattered across his horrified features. His savior was moving chaotically, dipping and dodging, running and leaping. What Ren didn't know was that the floor was literally burning and dropping out from underneath them. Rusl was sprinting as fast as he could through the house to get to the exit. Even though the area was small, the fire had made it an obstacle course. Burning debris littered their path, and missing chunks of floorboards that led to nothing more than a pit of fire below stood in their way as well. Oxygen was becoming more and more sparse, and in Ren's state of half-alertness he could see the ceiling caving in on top of them.

When Rusl finally emerged outside, most of the villagers were just storming into the clearing as the cloud of smoke in the sky had become positively unavoidable. He heard one final boom from behind them, and before it could make their ears ring one last time Rusl leapt from the top of the balcony and tucked himself and Ren into a roll upon hitting the grass. The momentum carried them a bit farther before he finally released and they both simply lie there.

Some of the villagers were paralyzed in fear, some of them gasped out loud and shrieked in terror, and some were brave enough to approach the two ashen forms in the grass. Colin and Calie were the first to react, rushing to Rusl and Ren as fast as they could. Beth left her young son, Evan, in her mother's care as she ran to them with haste, Uli right at her side.

"Dad!" Colin shouted, fear thick in his shaky voice, "Ren!"

Ren could barely hear the cries of his loved ones, and it roused him slightly. His sister's hand suddenly grabbing his own inched him that much closer, his eyes flickering open as she called his name.

Beth and Colin fell to their knees beside Rusl, his niece grabbing his hand and his son placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Uncle Rusl, are you okay?" Beth inquired.

"What happened!" Colin demanded.

"My love," Uli muttered, kneeling down between her husband and her grandson, glancing between the both of them, "Please say something..."

After taking those few moments to collect himself, Rusl wordlessly sat up, staring at the burning wreckage in front of them. His eyes were glazed over, and even though distraught faces and concerned pleas surrounded him, he said nothing.

Calie watched her father apprehensively, before turning back to Ren whom the others were all now nervously looking over as well.

"Little brother," she whispered, "Let me know you're okay? Please?"

He opened his eyes bit by bit, coughing horribly as he fully came to. He glanced around, seeing everyone huddled close by. That is, everyone except…

"Mom?" he croaked, "Where's my mom?"

Uli furrowed her brow, turning, then, toward her husband, "Yes… Where is Ilia?"

Rusl exhaled the longest, most painful breath he had ever taken, allowing his face to fall into his open palm as he squeezed his temples, wishing this was all nothing more than some horrible nightmare.

He knew that he had done what he had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. He could see the look on Ilia's face mere milliseconds before the explosion hit. In that minuscule window of time, he could see the fear in her eyes as plain as day. That fear, however, was not for herself by any means – it was fear for her child. Being a parent himself, he knew the look well, and she was ten times more terrified for Ren's safety the second she heard those bombs go off. Rusl would've wanted nothing more than to be able to jump down that cellar hatch and rescue his niece, but he knew it was a lost cause, and getting Ren out of there alive was his top priority, lest Ilia's death be in vain. So many bombs had gone off next to her, creating even more flames to engulf her and even more debris to crush her… There was just no possible way of saving her from that. It was a downright sickening realization, but he knew that he had been utterly powerless in the situation, and perhaps that was part of what made it so hard.

Uli could read her spouse's reaction like a book, and she looked to the burning house before them with her jaw slack, whispering, "Oh, no… No, no, no… It can't be…"

Ren sat up and looked around still in a slight daze, but it only took registering the distraught expressions of those around him to piece everything back together.

"MOM!" he suddenly screamed, leaping to his feet in a flash, but a crippling agony in his leg forced him to stumble back down to his hands and knees.

"Ren! Your leg…" Calie shuddered, gasping and covering her mouth with her hand.

He glanced down at it. It was bleeding profusely, and a large chunk of it was… missing. The outside of his left calf had taken most of that initial explosion, and because of that, a massive portion of his flesh was just… gone. All the muscles and tendons were clearly visible, almost down to the bone. What remained intact of his leg was severely burned.

He paid no attention to any of it. He got back up and started hobbling towards the scorching house.

"Stop!" Colin yelled, dashing forward and grabbing the younger boy's arm.

"NO! You stop!" he shouted back even more fanatically, staring at his uncle with determination and fear written plainly across his face, "I have to get my mom out of there!"

"Ren," Rusl called steadily, getting to his feet and approaching him and Colin; his calming tone silencing everyone. He had a look of complete and unmitigated despair, and the amount of guilt in his green eyes was chilling. He simply stood before his grandson for a moment, breathing deep and taking in the boy's expression. Ren was quivering and his eyes were wide in pleading desperation.

The older man's gaze did not falter until he finally whispered, "She's gone, Ren… I'm sorry…"

The sheer volume of the silence was deafening. There was no sound, no movement, no smells or sights to behold. No one uttered a word, no one so much as twitched a finger, and the erupting flames behind him were completely absent to him. There was just nothing at all.

Ren's deep, sapphire eyes remained locked on those of his grandfather for what felt like an eternity. He felt trapped, alone… scared. If Ren didn't look away, maybe Rusl would fix it. If he stared long enough, maybe it would all go away. This couldn't be happening, couldn't have happened, shouldn't have happened. His mom wasn't, really… gone… right? She couldn't be…

"No…" Ren barely murmured, beginning to shake his head slowly, "No…"

Rusl sighed, "I'm sorry, my boy…"

"No…" he said again, his eyes glassing over, "No…"

The older man placed a gentle hand on Ren's shoulder, but found he had no more words to say.

Ren finally slammed his eyes shut, an overflow of tears at last escaping his lashes and cascading down his cheeks as he collapsed to his knees.

Rusl glanced behind him to his wife who was openly crying as well. They had been there the day Ilia was born… they never suspected they would be around for the day she was gone. Calie, Colin, and Beth were teary-eyed just the same, as were almost all of the villagers as he turned to look at them one by one. They all looked so sullen, so confused. Evan, the youngest one at only six, was even upset, even though he likely wasn't exactly sure what was happening – it was the collective sorrow of everyone around him that made him realize something was very, very wrong. Bo, he noticed, was not among them. He was likely still at home, sleeping soundly in his bed, and that was for the best, Rusl knew.

Colin turned away to bring his mother in for a much needed embrace, his sister, Calie, joining them seconds later. Rusl, however, knelt down to Ren's level, simply sitting beside him as he wept for quite some time.

Ren let his face fall into his hands as he unabashedly wept, not caring in the slightest who heard or witnessed him. He was shaking something fierce, and Rusl moved to put calming hands on the boy's shoulders, but he still said nothing, as he truthfully had nothing beneficial to say anyway.

"I'm so sorry…" Ren mumbled, barely audible.

"What?" Rusl inquired softly.

The younger Ordonian dropped his hands into his lap, "My mom… I-I," he stammered, his panicked and unmanageable breathing making it difficult to get anything out, "L-Last I talked to her… I was mean, I…" he sobbed, "I wish I could take it back… I just want to tell her I love her one last time."

Ren looked up at him then, through an inconsolable amount of pain in his weary eyes.

"She knew, r-right?" he swallowed hard, "She knew… She knew I loved her, right?"

Rusl was broken. The trembling words of his devastated grandson shattered what was left of his old heart, and he could literally feel his throat swell up. The way Ren stared up at him tore him in two. He could see the imploring agony in his eyes, the desperate desire for him to fix everything, but he just couldn't, as much as he wished he could.

"Yes, Ren…" he tried, stifling his own agonized tears, "I'm sure, without a doubt, that your mother knew that you loved her very, very much."

Ren broke down again. He let out a long, pained bellow, returning to bawling irrepressibly into his dirty hands. Rusl wrapped his strong arms around him and simply cradled him as he wept.

Time was lost on all of them. The flames burned higher and higher before they eventually began dying out. It took long into the night before the massive fire was nothing more than smoldering embers, but most of the townsfolk did not move. Ilia was loved and adored by everyone in Ordon, and that home had served as a symbol of hope for years. But, worst of all, they had to witness yet another child become an orphan on that day.

As the ashes danced about in the air and the soot clung to most everything nearby, the cackling sound of the fire became quieter. The cries lessened and the sobs softened, but the pain lingered. The initial sting would inevitably fade, but the ache would remain.

Like a scar, it was a hurt that would stick for a lifetime.


Pain is often the best teacher.


A big thank you to the following for helping me get this chapter out there!

Melissa T., Lord Zant, Lee Glerum, Eve79, Gabby-J, Debora

You guys are amazing!