Author's Note
I got some good feedback on the first chapter, so thank you to those who took the time to give me your two cents. I am ALWAYS open to constructive criticism; in fact, I encourage it. Seeing new followers to the story also gets my hopes up, and it motivates me to write more content. Overall, I'm going to try and write at least 3,000 words per chapter, but I will not promise any routine for posting new chapters. I made that mistake in the past and had difficulty keeping to my promises. That puts a lot of pressure on me (especially since this isn't my job or my first priority), but more importantly I don't want to let down the people who are waiting for stuff to come out on time.
Thanks again to everyone for your support. Enjoy chapter 2.
Sincerely,
Bad Mittens
Chapter 2: Teatime
As Link regained his senses, he saw fire once again. His immediate response was to jump away, but as he took in his surroundings, he realized that rocks and dirt no longer hindered his movements. Someone had pulled him from the rubble and wrapped the lower-half of his body in a layer of blankets. The fire that had frightened him was not raging; it was just a small bonfire, encircled by stones and feeding on a bundle of logs and sticks. A skewer rotated just over the flames, braising what looked like two chunks of meat. Nighttime and snow still dominated the sky, and Link noticed he was directly below the charred remains of the Great Deku Tree. Memories of the dancing inferno rushed back.
"You were out for a day," a soft voice said. On the other side of the fire sat a tall man in a fur coat. Link was still waking up and couldn't make out his face. "But I assure you, you have healed quite nicely."
"Who," Link began, only to realize that he had a sore throat. He cleared it as best as he could and rubbed his neck.
"… who am I?" The man paused and then let out the strangest laugh Link had ever heard. It was soft and sounded like "ho, ho, ho". "A peddler, on one hand. However, I really do love traveling. I would travel the world if I could, but alas, my other calling prevents me from doing just that."
The man stood up and walked over to where Link was laying. He had a funny stride; the upper half of his body slouched forward, and his feet curved out at wide angles. Even with such bad posture, he was at least half a foot taller than Link. As the tall man knelt in front of the fire and leaned in, Link finally got a good look at his face. He had very high cheekbones and a pair of reedy, blue eyes. His skin was pale—almost as pale as the snow, and the fire amplified the auburn glow of his hair. In spite of his mystifying features, Link wondered if he was from Hyrule.
"I am the Happy Mask Salesman," he said, offering a hand to Link and smiling wide, "pleased to meet your acquaintance."
Link wondered if he had an actual name but decided not to ask. "Pleased to—ahem—pleased to meet you. I'm Link." It hurt to talk, but he had more pressing matters to worry about. They shook hands.
"Link." The Mask Salesman chuckled again. "What a fine name! I assume, Link, that you must be hungry? Not eating for twenty-four hours does leave an insatiable hole in one's belly. You can have both of those fine specimens if you'd like." He pointed at the skewer.
Food had been the last thing on Link's mind when he woke up, but as he looked at the meat roasting over the fire, he had to take the offer.
"Thank you," he said, trying to smile. In truth, this Happy Mask Salesman creeped him out just as much as he made him comfortable. It was an unusual mix of emotions.
"Excellent," the salesman said. He got up and went over to the other side of the fire, where Link noticed an obscenely huge haversack sitting upright against a log. Masks adorned every square inch of the pack. "I'll fix you some tea as well. No doubt your throat must be raw."
Link's hand went to his throat again. "How—ahem—how did you know?"
"Side effects of your treatment, I'm afraid." The salesman untied the top of the haversack and began rummaging through it. "But it'll go away soon. Believe me, I'd rather have a sore throat than a broken leg."
Link's pupils dilated as he remembered the moment his leg shattered. Beneath the covers, he shook both legs and realized that neither of them were broken. The Happy Mask Salesman chuckled and pulled a pressure cooker from the haversack. He filled the pressure cooker with snow and some leaves from his pocket, and then he hung it on the skewer.
"H-how," Link said, at a loss for words, "how did you fix my leg?"
"Here," said the Mask Salesman, breaking off a piece of meat from the skewer and handing it to Link, "this should take the edge off your hunger." The question was ignored.
Nodding, Link took the cooked flesh in both his hands. It smelled like smoke, and Link was once again taken back to the night before. He saw his village going up in a blaze, his friends being carried away on horseback, and that awful monster breathing flame on the Great Deku Tree. A log in the bonfire crackled, and Link snapped back to reality. The Mask Salesman was watching him.
"Is everything all right?" He asked.
"No, not really," Link said, avoiding eye contact. He bit into the meat and blinked as he realized it was partially burnt. Turning down a meal didn't seem like an option at this point—although it hurt to swallow—so he just kept eating.
"May I then ask…" The Mask Salesman looked around the crater and stared up at the blackened trunk of the Great Deku Tree. "… what happened here?"
Link continued to eat as he thought of what to say. Giving away everything didn't seem appropriate, but on the other hand, there wasn't much to hide. He had just been orphaned; his home was a pile of burnt debris, and only Farore knew where his friends had gone. If he didn't start trusting people, then there was no chance of seeing anything familiar again.
Those Hylian soldiers thundered back into his thoughts, and suddenly, he wondered: was this Happy Mask Salesman a spy, sent to lull him into a false sense of security? It would explain his calm demeanor, and Link couldn't help but feel that something was wrong about him. The tall man had his back turned. One of Link's hands drifted away from the meat and felt around for his sword in the snow, only to find nothing. He felt completely defenseless.
"You're afraid of something," the Happy Mask Salesman said, shifting around. His eyes shimmered, and he wore a shallow frown. "I can promise that you have nothing to fear from me."
"Are you sure?" Link asked, almost immediately, "because after seeing my home and everything I love burned to the ground, there isn't much I can have faith in."
Link found himself telling the entire story from beginning to end. He told the Happy Mask Salesman about the Great Deku Tree and its endless waterfall of knowledge. He told him about his people, the Kokiri, and what picturesque lives they had lived in the Lost Woods. He told him about the Hylians and how they envied the forest. He told him about the night before when he awoke, covered in ash and choking on smoke. And then he told him about the man made of fire and the death of his beloved tree. When all had been said, Link dove back into his meal with tears streaming down his cheeks.
There was silence for a moment, and then the Mask Salesman asked: "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Link answered anyway. "Yes," he said.
"And what will you do about it?" That next question took Link by surprise. He stopped eating and thought for a moment.
"I'm not sure. The forest is still here, but the things that made it my home are gone. My friends—no, my family—I have no idea where they are."
"Ah, but you do, don't you, Link?"
The salesman was right. There was only one place they could be: in that huge bastion at the center of Hyrule's sprawling capital.
"It is called Hyrule Castle," the Deku Tree had told him, "from a far glance, it is truly a magnificent work of man, but in nearing one can see the imperfection in its stones—stones cast by forced labor. Its towers touch the heavens, but it is not a divine structure in any sense of the term. A vast jailhouse spreads throughout the underhell of the castle; the ruler of the Hylians—their king—enslaved a desert people in the west and had them build it long ago. I may have my disagreements with the Hylian people, but those folk of the far west have even fairer reasons to scorn the Hylians and their culture."
If Saria, Mido, and the others were still alive, they would have to be in that castle. He had an pressing urge to grab his gear, head out of the forest, and head right to the front door of Hyrule Castle, but he knew he stood no chance against an entire legion of Hylian troops. A mere two hundred had invaded the forest a decade back; the Deku Tree said that was merely a fraction of their army. If he planned on rescuing his friends, he was going to need more than just a little help.
"I need to get to the Deku Palace," said Link, "there isn't much I can do by myself, and I still don't have a good picture of what's going on. The Deku scrubs might have a better idea. Then maybe I'll go visit the Great Fairy."
The Happy Mask Salesman let out another brief chuckle. "I think you would surprise yourself, child," he said, "One tends to severely depreciate his own individual talent, yet you are right to seek help in this situation."
Link nodded and took one last bite of the meat before throwing the bones into the fire. He watched the rest of the fat burn off as he tried to lay out the rest of his plan. His thoughts slowly drifted back to the Happy Mask Salesman, who he had been ignoring for the past few minutes. There were still a few questions that needed answers.
"Why did you help me?" he asked.
The Mask Salesman shrugged the shoulders of his fur coat. "Random acts of kindness, perhaps?" he said. "Does a gesture of geniality ever warrant a reason? People in this land have been hurting and destroying each other for thousands of years, and I've lived through a lot of it. We don't need more bystanders; we need heroes."
Link had been so overwhelmed by the monologue that he found himself just staring at the Happy Mask Salesman. The tall man smirked and let another one of his "ho, ho, ho" laughs. He removed the pressure cooker from the skewer and placed it on the snow next to Link. Steam sizzled from beneath the cooker.
"Now," said the Happy Mask Salesman, "the most important question I will ask you tonight." He put his hands behind his back, and Link breathed in heavily. "Cats or dogs?"
The Happy Mask Salesman pulled out two tankards from behind his back. Both were adorned with stencil drawings. One tankard had a cat and the other tankard had a dog. Link thought for a moment; the choice caught him off-guard.
"Dogs," he eventually said. Dogs reminded him of wolves, and he always had a fascination with wolves.
"Interesting," said the Happy Mask Salesman, grinning widely. He handed Link the tankard with the dog and filled it with tea from the pressure cooker.
Putting the tankard beneath his nose, Link breathed in and smelled oranges. The scent was warm and smooth and a lot more pleasant than that half-burnt hunk of meat. He took a shallow sip from the tankard. It was the perfect temperature, and it soothed the irritation in his throat. Sleep seemed to call out to him distantly, yet he decided that he had slept enough that day.
"You see," said the Salesman, sitting cross-legged in the snow next to Link, "something as simple as choosing one drawing over the other says a lot about a person. Cats are certainly wonderful creatures, but they prefer to live a solitary lifestyle. They hunt alone, eat alone, sleep alone. Unless they have grown up with other cats or in the care of a loving family, they lead a mostly independent existence. Dogs, on the other hand, enjoy a social atmosphere. Long spans of time without intimate contact can leave lasting effects on their growth and stability."
"I can relate," said Link.
"Exactly. And that's why you picked the dog."
Link sipped his tea to give himself time to think. "I don't think I could ever live alone. Even now, I'm already feeling empty. I used to go see the Great Deku Tree with all my questions, but now I can't. I used to go see Saria whenever I wanted to take a walk in the woods, but now I have to take those walks alone. It really gets me wondering: how much of this forest have I taken for granted?"
The Happy Mask Salesman pursed his lips. "You seem to me like someone who enjoys reminiscing the past. There's nothing wrong with that. Just be careful you don't live in it. That's how grudges are formed, and I don't just mean grudges with other people—I also mean grudges with yourself."
He poked Link in the chest with one of his long fingers and stood up. Link watched him walk over to the haversack and open the top. The curiosity at this point was just unbearable.
"Who are you really?" Link asked, "and what are you doing in the Lost Woods?"
The words hung in the air as the Happy Mask Salesman retrieved a small woodwind instrument from the haversack. It looked like a fat, tan flute. Once again ignoring Link's questions, he sat down next to the bag and whistled through the instrument. A faint, mellowing tune breathed through the air and warmed Link's heart; he almost forgot what he had just asked.
"This is an ocarina," said the Happy Mask Salesman. He took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, wiped the mouthpiece, and looked up at Link. "I want you to have it. I thought about giving you one of my masks, but right now, the only face you need is your own."
Deciding to test his legs, Link set down the tankard with the tea and shimmied his way out of the blankets. He hesitated, and then pushed himself up from the ground. His legs didn't hurt, but they felt weak. Link thought he could fall over at any moment. The Happy Mask Salesman reached out with the ocarina in hand, and Link slowly made his way over. When he reached out for the instrument, the salesman pulled back. That stagnant smile was no longer there.
"My home is in a distant land, and it is an even more distant memory," he said quietly, "I've collected many masks in my travels, and some, in spite of what may seem commonsense, are more dangerous than others. My quest is confidential, and I ask that you respect my words. If you wish to repay me a favor, then please consider this: do not follow me, keep away from the shadows, and above all…" He paused for a moment and then smiled. "…believe in your strengths. Believe."
The ocarina fell into Link's hands. He pushed it into his pocket and tried to avoid eye contact as he made his way back to the nest of blankets. Those ominous words repeated in his mind, over and over. Link had never been so spooked—and so intrigued—in his entire life. For the first time, his mind drifted away from his friends in Hyrule Castle; he thought about the Happy Mask Salesman and his "confidential quest". What had he meant by "keep away from the shadows"? What distant land did he call home? What dangerous masks was he seeking out?
Link's throat desperately sought warmth. He picked up the tankard and downed the rest of the tea; the scent of orange filled his mouth and nose. Fatigue hit him almost immediately; it seized his limbs and added weight to his eyelids. The blankets and the snow suddenly felt as soft as ferns, and they begged him to lie down and shut his eyes. Before he knew it, his head had hit the earth. The Happy Mask Salesman laughed from the other side of the fire. Link could see him dismantling the skewer and placing his things back into the haversack. Everything started to blur, but Link forced his eyes to stay open.
"I'm afraid I've piqued your interest just a smidge too much, young Link," said the salesman, "the tea should help you rest. Unfortunately, I can't have you following me." He walked in front of the fire and took a bow. "I wish you best of luck on your quest. I'm sure our paths will cross once again."
Darkness fell.
When Link awoke, his health had returned and it was no longer snowing. Although a cold chill still bit the air, the mid-day sun was out and sent shimmers across the grounded snow. The Happy Mask Salesman was nowhere to be seen; he had taken the empty tankard, the skewer, and the pressure cooker, but he had left behind Link's sword and shield as well as a small scroll. After stomping out the rest of the fire and dressing himself in his equipment, Link sat on his makeshift bed and opened the scroll.
You wanted to know how I healed you, the letter read. Link recognized the calligraphy as Modern Hylian. Music is sometimes the best medicine.
Beneath the note was a rough sketch of a musical spreadsheet. As Link read it over, he fished the ocarina out of his pocket. The tune on the scroll was a fairly simple one; it wouldn't take too much trial and error to play it on the ocarina.
There were a few more sentences written below the music: Be wary of its power. Like words, a few notes is all it takes to save a life… or condemn one.
Link reread the entire scroll several times before folding it and placing it in his pocket along with the ocarina. Then, he rolled up the blankets, strapped them to his back, and made his way out of the crater.
As he reached the ravine leading up and out, he turned around to take one more look at the Great Deku Tree. The trunk was gray—a sad reminder of what had once been healthy, brown bark. Its fallen branches littered the crater like mortared bricks, and the evergreen leaves had long since rotted away. In the springtime, tall grass transformed the dim crater into a verdant meadow, but now that the Deku Tree was dead, perhaps the grass would not sprout this year.
Link was reminded of his quest. The forest needed him. He climbed up the ravine and headed south toward the Deku Palace.
