Every Shard of My Heart Belongs to You: Homeward
It had been about six years since Link's departure, and although he was often present in the young princess's mind, life in Hyrule apathetically moved on without him. The grass grew tall in summer, died in winter and was reborn each spring. Trade flourished and the towns grew.
In this time of prosperity the children of Hyrule became adolescents and the adolescents became young adults. Time rolled along like a goron down a mountain; the longer the duration, the faster it moved. At maximum velocity it ripped the roots of Zelda's heart from the ground and pulled it along like a tumbleweed, spilling seeds of memories along the way in hopes of having something to one day cling to.
Even still, the Princess did not seem unhappy. She was inquisitive and took great interest in medicine. At fourteen she professed that she would rather be a doctor than a queen. By seventeen she realized this was a diminishing possibility. Given his age, the King was unlikely to remarry and produce a male heir, so queen she might well be—someday. She found solitude in caring for her garden, a small responsibility in comparison to a kingdom. She became well admired at court, for her wisdom as well as her beauty. The strength of her mind and gentleness of her voice won her many allies.
Her company and her flowers made the days more than bearable, but the nights were often long and sleepless. On one such night, at half past two in the morning, in the highest west tower, one candle's light joined that of the myriad of stars in the heavens. A slender shadow was cast against the previous darkness of her chamber walls. A clamoring in the town below had aroused Zelda from her restlessness. She reached for the window drapes, hoping to expose the culprit guilty of such pandemonium.
There! Before the castle gate there was a man holding a torch. Another carried something in his arms, something that must have been heavy for he seemed to stagger clumsily toward the castle entrance. He yelled something unintelligible to the guards who in turn set off a chain of thunderous commands.
She heard the rusty metallic hinges creak and the hollow wooden echo of the doors of the fortress as they were thrust open. Moments later, a frantic fist was set upon her door, which soon produced a very disorganized looking knight. He panted wildly, his hand over his heart as if to calm it.
"Iain, what is this?" she demanded.
"Do not be alarmed, milady," he paused to wheeze, "Everything is under control."
"What is 'under control'? What is going on?" She jostled her way past the knight in a flurry of impatience and curiosity.
"Wait Milady, you mustn't go down there!"
But his words were disregarded as Zelda's light feet tread like water down the scarlet rapids of carpeted stairs to the foyer. She called to whomever would answer, "I demand to know the cause of this commotion...!"
Her knees buckled beneath her at the sight of inexplicable scene before her. The unwieldy object that had been brought in by the two men, was in fact a brutally beaten young man dressed in the tatters of a green tunic and brown trousers.
"Link...?"
She watched as several servants were feverishly dressing wounds and cleaning the bleeding mass of broken bones and blond hair. She wanted to rush to his side, if not for an explanation then at least to extend a comforting hand. But the two strong arms of her knight, who had since caught up with her, forced a wedge between her and her long-absent friend.
"Will he be all right?" she asked, her voice dripping with apprehension.
"There is nothing you can do, milady, but rest, please. They will do all they can for him." As Iain turned to leave, he noticed the Princess tarry near the doorway. He sighed softly to himself.
Towards the end of next day Zelda peered around the corner of the hall where Link was being attended. She saw a servant coming from his room, carrying what scraps were left of his clothing. She watched as the servent continued a path down the narrow hallway, eventually disposing of the bloodstained attire.
She stepped warily inside. Curtains shrouded the room in a suffocating darkness, save a candle at his bedside. She placed a set of clean clothing on the table next to his bed. The shadows of the flame wavered on his face. She approached the seemingly lifeless body quietly, hoping not to wake him. She traced her finger along a laceration on his cheek. She could not help but notice how his once boyish facial features had been replaced by those of a hardened man. His chest rose and fell regularly with every ragged breath. His right arm grasped his bandaged ribs, revealing the strength of his muscular frame. The last time she had seen him he was only a thin boy of perhaps fourteen, but now, six years later, he had the appearance of a strong young man.
"Well look at you," she whispered, brushing stray blond strands of hair from his face. "I was beginning to think you weren't ever coming back." She pulled a stool close to his bedside and sat down.
"I waited so long for you to return that it's hard for me believe you're really here. So much has happened while you were away. Princess Ruto just got married last month." Zelda smiled. "I guess she got tired of waiting for you. And Malon is running Lon Lon Ranch now. She has raised some fine horses. We have several in the stables. Maybe when you feel up to it we can go riding."
The Princess sighed and folded her arms. "You can't hear a word I'm saying, can you? I'm just talking to myself." She frowned and rubbed her temples. She rose to leave but then noticed his knitted brows and tense expression, as if he was fighting in his sleep. The fingers on his left hand twitched. She instinctively reached down to touch them as though in stilling his hand she could somehow end whatever nightmare he was reliving.
"I wish you could tell me now of your adventures and deeds, and the seeming misfortune that has befallen you. Often you were in my thoughts. I do regret us not speaking before you left. If only I..." Her voiced faltered, "If only I had asked you to stay... we might have..." Zelda smiled wryly. "But there is no 'might have' is there?" She sighed softly while stroking his cheek. She felt him stir under hand and heard a soft moan escape his lips. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead. She could have sworn she saw a smile tug at his lips.
"Sleep well... Hero of Time."
The door clicked shut and his eyes eased open. Link's hand went to his cheek. He tried to sit up but immediately regretted any such notion of movement. He failed to stifle a small cry as a sharp pain shot up through his ribs. He pressed his hands over his wound, trying to keep it from bleeding again. He reached for the bedpost for support. He drew the drapes slightly, allowing only enough light in to see the last bit of sun being devoured by dusk. He rested his head gingerly against the window, trying desperately not to aggravate another tender spot. He wondered what had become of the man who had brought him in. He massaged his temples and groaned softly. If only he could remember...
It was six years ago, they said. He had recently returned from his eighteen-month trek through the Lost Woods, to Termina, and back again. But he did not stay long in Hyrule, for adventure's sweet whispers seemed to be calling from a new wind. Link did not leave well with Zelda. He could not even speak a farewell to her. He left his ocarina and hat with her, as a promise to return. It was obvious that she hadn't wanted him to go; a piece of him hadn't wanted to part from her either, for reasons unbeknown to himself. The events shortly after his departure were distorted, nearly wiped clean from memory. Mere flashes of reminiscences were all that remained. They rewound themselves and played repeatedly, hauntingly, in the back of his mind.
He shook his mind free from the dark reverie and turned his attention to the stack of clean garments that Zelda had brought for him. He smiled as his thoughts wandered back to her and the solace her voice offered. His hand drifted back to his cheek, how he had cherished the one simple touch of her hand. He wondered at her words.