Eric strolled along the cobblestone roads to Telma's. He figured the boy headed there the previous night. Zelda was hiding herself in the castle – her dispute with the boy made her feel guilt that was out of proportion to the situation. He had tried to convince her otherwise, but she had only snapped at him in return. The princess had ordered him to find the boy, and bring him back to her. By which, he gladly obliged. Now, he was out late at night, when with little to no traffic amongst the streets, looking for the boy.
He made a right off the east street to an alleyway which dead-ended at Telma's. He approached the poorly lit pub and noticed its sign was flipped to 'closed'. Eric gulped, came to the door and knocked, afraid to have an angry and exhausted Telma to answer. Yet, all he heard was her voice yelling across the door to enter. He raised a brow, and pushed open the door. He entered to witness Telma frantically rummaging through her closet, gathering several coats. Eric stood wide eyed in the doorway as he watched her.
"Telma, what are you doing?" He questioned the woman. She only shot her head up at the man and pointed to a small stack of papers on the bar counter. One was the morning's inventory, the second the evening's, the third was a scribbled note in messy writing. Eric looked at Telma inquisitively, picking up the inventory papers. "Must've been busy today – looks like you went through four bottles of liquor," he noted, a light taint of humor in his tone.
Telma's eyes were stolid and expressionless; her face turned as blank as empty paper. "I only poured out two. The other two…" Her voice trailed off into nothing. She quickly returned to pulling out coats and blankets and scarves and gloves. She made three piles of them: one he assumed was for Telma herself; the other two remained a mystery to him.
Eric squinted his eyes as he placed the inventory sheets back on the counter, and picking up the last note. In shaky writing, the words I'm sorry were written, contrasting with the paper of faded color. The red head's face turned white. He was speechless; he hadn't realized the boy stooped so low. He would have never thought of this – he knew the boy had problems, but not this. Eric's hands shook out of fear, worry and shock. He placed the note back on the shelf. "So he stole two bottles of liquor?"
Telma shook her head, pulling out a purple rupee from her pocket. "No, he left this in return. But, I fear he has much more of a problem than underage drinking." The woman's eyebrows scrunched as she hurriedly pulled on her coat. She picked up the other two piles of coats, and handed them to Eric. "One's for you, one's for Link. We're going searching for him." Eric stared at the second outfit, puzzled. Telma sighed. "I'd assume you'd find him first. You're younger and can get around a lot faster than I can." She smirked. "That's if you don't smoke."
Eric grumbled in disgust, but put on the outfit Telma prepared for him, and took the one for Link under his arm. Telma blew out the candles and went to the door. She held it open for Eric as he carried the coats for Link through the door. The two then headed up the alleyway and onto the main streets. Telma scanned both ways of the streets. "You go west. There are more alleyways there he could be hiding in. And it's the quickest way to the castle – he may have been going there, but who knows. I'll go east and see what I can find."
Eric nodded and departed west, now carrying the extra coats over his shoulder. Despite Telma's mockery, he continued to pull a cigar from his pocket and light it in his mouth. He shivered as an ominous wind blew at him from behind. Although he was adequately layered for the cold, the odd wind chilled him to the bone. It made his teeth clatter and his body fidget and shiver. He frowned, and tugged on his coat, like doing so would give him additional heat. The wind was odd, though. It was like the cold was trying to tell him something. It typically wasn't even this cold yet during this time of year. The only place where it would already be cold was up north in Snowpeak. But, Hyrule was much farther south than the cold mountains.
Just then, a quick and shadowy frame flung itself through his vision up above, cutting his train of thought. Shrouded in darkness, he couldn't determine the person's gender or identity. Eric halted in his tracks and stared skyward at the moon – it was bright enough to illuminate the alleyways. Again, the anonymous figure hovered across the moon for a split second – whoever it was, was jumping form rooftop to rooftop. The figure stood on the ledge of building and glared down at Eric.
Eric grumbled and yelled up at the shady figure. "Hey! Who are you?" He watched the sly person chuckle, and then completely vanish into thin air. Quickly, his heart rate rose as he felt a light tap on his shoulder. The person covered Eric's mouth with their hands, and spoke in his ear with their cheek brushing up against him.
"It is not need be known who I am," the voice spoke. Eric determined it was female. "Or my purposes. But I will help you." The hooded woman turned and faced Eric head on. "I am an acquaintance of Zelda's. I've been helping her these past few weeks with this boy you call a hero." Eric sneered at the woman for her crude comment towards Link. "And it appears the ways you two want to help the boy are in sync with one another." Eric grew baffled by her statement.
The woman turned to leave, but Eric reached forward in attempt to grab her and only brushed her hood, knocking it off her head. Her tan skin and platinum tendril of hair were revealed and she turned her face to Eric. Her stare was icy at the red head. The man gulped as she spoke. "You're looking for the hero?" She spoke softly. "Follow the winds. The goddesses sent them for a reason." And with that she vanished without further explanation.
Eric stood in a horrified haze, in the middle of an alley, a cigar still lit in his mouth and a chilling wind coming up on him from the north. Despite the grave situation at hand, Eric smiled. He looked up at the glowing moon and whispered, "Thank you, messenger of the goddesses." And with that, Impa smiled.
Eric took a sigh and continued to scan the alleyways for the boy. He kept in mind the direction of the wind, though. And by the time the back of his head had grown numb, the wind had changed its direction and slapped him across the face with a bitter chill. He turned to the alley the wind conducted him to. Eric noted the sly woman atop a roof further down the alley. She nodded to Eric, looked down at the street directly below her, and left.
Eric's eyes followed to where the woman's had gone. He saw a small pile of a body. Eric froze for a split second, and then burst out running towards the slump. He hoped and prayed he wouldn't meet with a familiar face. But, his hopes were crushed far too prematurely. The boy's emaciated frame was illuminated in the moonlight: his eyes closed, lips parted, and chest shallowly lifting up and down.
He grabbed the boy's shoulders and held him upright – Link's head hung limp. Eric's face was wide with fear: his slightly shook the boy. "Link – Link! Wake up!" His voice was frantic and wavering. The blonde boy was out like a rock. The rancid odor of alcohol reeked the alley. Eric only scrutinized the boy's bloody knees, pungent breath, vomit stained lips, bony frame: he only made himself sick thinking of it all. "Goddesses damn it!" He yelled, pained by voice.
The previously hooded woman silently reappeared behind Eric in a smooth jump from a building above. Her arms were folded and voice was stern. "Do you know how much he's had?" Her eyes burned right through Eric as he remained motionless. Regretfully, he shook his head. The woman scoffed, "Almost two full bottles." Eric's eyes shot open, wider than they ever had been.
Quickly, Eric bundled Link in the extra coats he was given. "How long does that much take to kill?"
The servant of the goddesses cocked her head. "Not long. He's half dead already. Thus is why you found him now." She wrapped her tendril of platinum hair around her finger as she spoke to the guard.
Eric picked up the smaller boy in his arms and faced the anonymous woman. "So if I don't go now and get him help, he will die before Zelda knows." He paused and bit his lip. "Please, go inform Zelda of the incident. Tell her to report to the doctor. We'll be waiting for her." And with so, he dipped his head to the woman, and began running to the other side of town – where the doctor was. Eric cradled the boy close to his chest as he ran. The mysterious woman only smirked at the red head, before returning to a neutral expression and launching herself away from the scene.
His lungs cringed – begged for air. Despite the pain building up in his chest, he was obstinate on saving Link's life. He felt guilty for letting the boy fall so low. If he had only noticed his behavior; watched more closely – noting the shallow changes. If only he had been concerned with the boy's thinning build: the bones jutting out at his hips and the outlines of his cheeks becoming definite. If he had pointed out the sullen and glum sea in his eyes – if only he had saved the boy before his life was on the line.
The blonde fidgeted in Eric's arms as the red head saw Telma at the other end of the road – by the doctor's: his heart raced. "Telma!" He shouted after her, coughing. The plump woman turned her head and saw him at the end of the street. "Get the doctor ready!" He practically wheezed. Telma saw the pile of a boy in the man's arms, she immediately ran into the office. Eric sprinted the rest of the way, clutching the boy to his chest even tighter.
Zelda sat at her desk, writing letters – letters to Rusl, to Ilia, to Renado – to inform them of the situation of their friend's time of depression. But, she received a knock at her window. Zelda paused her pen, and turned to the window, seeing a familiar face looking in. The woman at the window smirked and waved at the princess, who only nodded in return – giving an inkling that she was permitted to be in. The tan woman stepped in through the window and stood behind Zelda. The princess sighed, "Well hello there, Impa. Seems you're out fairly late – and it's fairly late for you to be visiting."
Impa smirked, shaking her head. "I only come for important business. But to contradict your statement, isn't it late for you to still be up? Writing letters?" She chuckled to herself.
Zelda grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Insomnia." The princess turned in her chair to face Impa, and she was met with a perked brow and a raised lip – she sighed, turning her eyes to the floor and spinning back to her desk. "I'm worried about him, Impa." She bit her lip. "I know he's the goddesses' chosen, but still. I feel terrible after yelling at him yesterday, kicking him out. I should have been more understanding. I was just an asshole."
The tan woman shrugged her shoulders and looked away from Zelda, her face becoming sullen and grave. "Anyway, back to why I came. You might want to go into town," she took a breath. "According to Eric." Out of the corner of her eye, Impa watched Zelda's face freeze and become struck with worry. "To the doctor's." The designated queen shot up from her desk and ran to her closet. Impa sighed. "Eric found him. He told me to get you." The woman turned her head back in the direction of Zelda, but the princess was already shoving her arms in a coat – already changed from her night gown to clothing of proper attire.
She then began to exit the castle, ignoring Impa. The woman groaned, "I'm coming with you." Impa's cold words halted Zelda. The princess turned to her, and the woman sighed. "I know you, of all people, would not be able to handle seeing him in the current state he's in." She heard Zelda's barely audible gasp – a squeak from a chipmunk.
Zelda sighed, continuing to head to the castle doors with Impa behind her. The princess glanced over her shoulder. "Would you prefer to go by foot or by horse?" But before she received an answer, Impa walked right past Zelda, out the castle doors and to the streets. Zelda held her breath as her face turned bright red. She just followed Impa out the doors, without even restating her question.
The two women exited the castle yard and walked down the streets. The wind blew in the direction they were heading – blowing Zelda's hair into her face. Irritated, she tied the mass of her hair into a low ponytail. All her hazel hair below the ponytail became a knotted and curled mess. The same went with the strands of hair she allowed to hang by the sides of her face. She looked like a face that was familiar to Link – a face that was way too familiar; a face he had seen just the other day. Impa noticed the slight change in Zelda's appearance, but didn't make a big deal of it.
Zelda stopped walking once she stood outside the door to the doctor's. She looked up at Impa, her eyes watery and teeth clenched. "I'm scared." Impa cocked her head at the princess, placed her hand on the woman's shoulder and smiled. Zelda raised a brow at Impa.
"I think he'll be fine," the tan woman whispered. "Despite that he looks like Ganon got to him, he will be fine. The goddesses can guarantee it." Impa gleamed at Zelda, who was still uneasy with the situation.
Zelda sniffled, wiped her face and brushed off Impa's hand. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled deeply from her mouth. Patting down her dress and knocking off any loose dirt, Zelda dried her eyes and looked firmly at Impa. "Okay," a pause in her wavering voice. "I think I'm ready." She smiled and turned her head to Impa. "I will try not to cry – I don't want to scare the boy. Please remove me from the room if I-"
"He won't even notice," the woman muttered gravely.
"W-what do you mean?" The princess' voice cracked with her emotion.
The tan woman gulped, and began to wrap her hair around her finger. "Eric found him unconscious in an alley. Vomit stained lips and a pungent odor of alcohol that no wind could expel." She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, knowing Zelda's face looked like a scared child's. "Two bottles of liquor, almost completely downed." She took a deep breath in, her voice shaking. "He's almost dead, Zelda."
Zelda almost choked on her own breath. She brought her hands up to her face, covering her gaping mouth and flooding cheeks. Her knees trembled beneath her, but still remained strong. She felt her stomach churn and rumble with guilt – her lost sense of infamy returning. She felt the guilt back when she sent her soldiers to war, despite that most of them were unprepared and inexperienced. Zelda had thought that those dreadful feelings left her many moons ago – but lamentably were returning with the downfall of Link.
The nearing queen shook. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Her eyes were cold and empty; hurt – stabbed like an innocent victim. She glared at Impa, frustrated yet broken beyond repair. "Why?"
Impa shook her head. "I was going to inform you earlier." She bit her lip. "But you took off and left the castle before I could go into specific details." The stared at the ground – both women did; they stood in silence. Then the tan woman took initiative and reached her hands around Zelda, hugging her tightly. She stood and cradled the hazel's face in her shoulder, but Zelda was only taken by shock. Impa sighed. "All and all has happened, and it will pass. And the boy will be fine. He just needs the help from all of us: You, Telma, Eric, Seth, and his mother."
"Seth, who is that? And his mother… the last I knew she died when he was four, and his father left his mother when she birthed to Link. How could she help?" Zelda questioned, puzzled.
Impa shook her head. "Seth is as close to Link as his own mother is." She took a pause. "But, the dead can do great things for somebody at heaven's doorstep." And with those words, Zelda pushed herself away from the woman.
"We are going in," the princess stated, drying her eyes. "And we are going to help save the boy." The determination in Zelda's voice only articulated her desire to return the favor – pay indemnity for all the wrongs she caused. She wanted to even the scales out. The tan woman nodded in return, obviously proud of Zelda overcoming her fear of failing the boy.
The two women then walked up to the door, and opened it wide. They were greeted by the old man Borville, who sneered at the androgynous figure next to Zelda, Telma, a frantic and winded Eric, a cold chill in the air, and a sickly Link who was almost bereft of his life. The room was full and cold – physically and in the atmosphere of feelings. They were all worried that the next morning, they would be in mourning.
Borville stared up at the princess; his oversized glasses making his eyes appear to be giant globes of green stuck on his face. "Your dumb hero drank a lot, your majesty." He scoffed, ranted about the boy. "I pumped his stomach, got a lot of the liquor out. His body practically shut down after much of the liquor got into him. What I got out just sat in his stomach." The old man shrugged, turning away from Zelda. "He'll live." The ears of everybody in the room perked up – the lifeline of hope was thrown into the sea of despair, for everybody to grab and be pulled to rejoice. "But," the doctor paused. The air suddenly dropped a degree as the contradictory word halted all form of mental revel. "His liver is shot. He'll take a while to recover, too. The boy's too skinny, severely underweight – he needs to eat or he will die."
Eric bit his lip and frowned – he had noticed the boy's bones jutting out from him. He could have done something, he felt. Telma wanted to vomit: she felt that because she didn't punish the boy the first time he took some of her drinks encouraged his plan for death by alcohol. Zelda felt lightheaded: everything she was taking in felt like an incubus was beating at her heart – breathing and shattering it. She noticed his thinning – but she didn't want to believe it, she only wanted to think of it as he was losing all the strength that he had previously. She noticed the downfall of his behavior – she watched him before she left, the night she left, and many of the days up until this point. She only wished she could have noticed the pattern.
The old man checked the boy's heart rate once again while the group of worried family stood there. He nodded to himself, jotting down mental notes. The wrapped his stethoscope around his neck and turned to the group. "Do any of you know why he did this?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned at the members.
Eric whispered, his faced whiter than a full moon. "Suicide and Midna." He bit his lips and buried his face in his hands, his eyes welling up with tears. "He loved her and she left and he cannot see her furthermore and…" Eric's voice trailed off. Telma hung her head, as well as Zelda. Impa's only eyes met with the ground. Eric's voice returned. "He was only seventeen and went to hell and back – he's not stable." Eric was now motionless and white – he was as scared as Zelda was.
Borville nodded and sighed and turned his head to the floor. "When I release him, and he is recovering" – the doctor shot up and looked at each person in the eye – "you must keep an eye on him at all times. You cannot risk this again." The old man was serious in all manners; while all of Link's family stared at him dying in a bed, and they couldn't help but feel sick to their stomachs for letting him fall so low. They all managed to nod to the doctor's orders, though.
After many minutes of sitting in dreaded silence, the dearth of sound digging inside each and every one of them like acid burning through rock, Zelda turned to Impa. The princess stared at the floor, her voice resonating in the solemn atmosphere of the room. "May I ask a favor of you?" The tan woman parted her lips, but nodded. Zelda looked up at her. "I need you to head to the mirror chamber. Tell my soldiers they need to hurry their work – get it done as soon as possible." Impa sighed into a small smile and nodded.
"Will do, your grace," the woman nodded, bowing to Zelda, before leaving. When she left, the room felt only degrees colder. The remaining shuddered; Eric folded his arms, Telma shivered – Zelda walked over to Link and laid another blanket on top of him.
Eric then turned to Zelda. "When you spoke to her," he asked. "Did you mean the same instance as what you told me, when we brought Link to the castle?" The red head looked at Zelda with curious eyes – urging for answers.
Zelda looked at the guard from the corner of her eye, her face remained stolid – lacking of emotion. She looked very apathetic for the situation at hand. "Yes, Eric." The red head's face lightened slightly with the confirmed words that flew from Zelda's mouth.
"That should help him," the red head stated. His face wasn't as shallow as it had been.
Zelda only nodded. "Yes." She closed her eyes and rolled her head to face the ceiling. "It will certainly help him." Her plan would be a success – she would save the boy from his mental misery.
A/N: Yes! He will live! I felt so mean doing that to poor Link, but now the treacherous journey uphill begins! Sorry if this chapter seems dull, I tried to make it as emotional as I could. Nevertheless, R&R?