It's been much, much too long since I updated this story. I am very sorry it's taken me so long, but I must say I am glad to finally have this chapter complete. Sometimes getting something written down that I like is a real struggle for me. I never forget my stories in progress, however long it takes me to update. Thank you all for your patience and especially to Arison Nakaru. You've been wonderful!

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess and all its characters and places still belongs to Nintendo.

Ith How the World Crumbles

Chapter 3: Summer of Sun-Burned Fields

"Why she sad?" little Colin asked, hanging back and clinging to Ilia's hand as she stroked the blue flank of a beloved goat.

"She's sad because she lost her kids," the girl replied softly.

"Why? Where'r dey?" he quizzed, eying the animal rather warily from around Ilia's shoulder.

She didn't pause to correct the mistakes of a two-year-old tongue. "She…she just lost them, that's all." She blinked several times in an attempt to keep the tears back, and again looked at her best friend. "…You'll understand when you're a little older, Colin."

She continued petting the indigo hide, while her other hand had been captured and drawn back by ten fingers still plump with baby fat. Even as the girl spoke, Link held Fern's head in his hands and seemed to be whispering things none but the faithful goat could hear. He stroked her face; whenever she bleated so quietly his eyes became just a bit moister as he murmured and smoothed the hair under her chin. The few splashes of clear liquid present on her face could have been evidence of her grief, except for the fact that goats have no tear ducts.

Just an hour before, the children had buried the two tiny doelings at the edge of the little forest clearing in which they liked to play. Fado willingly lent his large hands to the digging process of the single, two-foot-deep grave. Both Ilia and Link had decided that the two kids, one stillborn, the other following shortly after a few breaths, should be together in death; they wrapped the tiny bodies in a worn-out, outgrown shirt which belonged to golden-haired boy and lowered them to their final resting place.

Ilia turned her head away as the boys solemnly filled the hole once again; her eyes flitted to Hyram, who was standing apart from them a bit, and leaning with one fist against a tree. She felt a quick burst of irritation at him for being there. What was he doing, anyway? He wasn't aiding in the labor of digging or filling and every few seconds his jaw moved, betokening that he was working on a bit of spruce gum. He caught her gaze and straightened his posture almost imperceptibly; his own eyes slowly drifted back to Link's bent head and shoulders as he and Fado shoveled the last remnants of the disturbed soil.

The task complete, the child with the pointed ears wiped at the sweat on his forehead and nodded to Fado. Then he stepped toward the eldest boy. "Thanks for coming, Hy," he said simply, grime covering his face, neck, and arms. Even at almost ten years old he was developing some muscle.

"Heh," the other half-snorted. "At least those whiny little kids aren't here. I can't stand their dumb questions."

"Hey!" Ilia glowered at him. "I know he's annoying sometimes, but don't you talk about my little brother like that!"

Hyram held up his hands in mock defeat. "I didn't mean it like that, you know. I just think they would have spoiled an occasion like this."

The girl relaxed. "Well, we left them at home because we didn't want them to be in the way. They're too little to understand a funeral anyway." She lifted her head as she said it.

Link tried to muster a smile and he shifted his gaze between his best friend and the boy with whom he was still learning to be friends. His thoughts, however, were wandering toward the barn and the mother who'd lost both her doelings.

"Yeah. Colin might have been all right, but the other two…" Fado commented. "Talo would'a been all in the hole and poking the dead little goats. He and Gilles are such a pair, my mom says."

"Colin isn't any better," Hyram added with some scorn. "He's such a mama's boy. Every time I see him he's clinging to someone's hand."

"That doesn't mean you have to make fun of him," Ilia retorted. "He's only two."

Whatever rejoinder was about to escape the throat of the eldest boy was lost to time as Link quietly announced his intention to withdraw. With a nod to the others, he began moving away.

"Wait, Link! I'll come with you," the girl called after him. She made just two hurried steps and then suddenly turned back to the thirteen-year-old. "…Thanks for coming, Hyram. It was a nice thing to do. I suppose Gilda didn't want to?"

"Nah," he replied. "My cousin thinks animals are 'horrid creatures'." He took pleasure in holding two sets of doubled fingers in an exaggerated motion. "She's dumb." He bit his lip to keep from adding that girls in general were dumb.

"Well, thank you," she said again, not knowing what else she could really say.

She turned, her somewhat forced smile fading as she followed her best friend. Fado, with an equally glum expression on his well-tanned face, took up both shovels and dragged them back. Though he'd always liked Fern, he wished he could become as skilled and attached to the goats as both his father and Link seemed to be.

A short time later when the children were still in the barn, Juble came hurtling through the doorway and hurried toward a couple of pitchforks and a lantern that hung upon the wall. Only when he was about to exit again did he notice the miserable threesome clustered around the grieving animal.

"What're y'all doing here?!" he demanded, a strange sort of urgent ferocity in his tone. "Get back to yer homes, d'ye hear me?!"

The two older children jumped up. As if he could sense some kind of danger, Link's hand stole to that of his best friend and looked to see that Colin was peeking out between the two of them.

"What do you mean, Uncle Juble?"

"What's wrong?" Ilia inquired, a nervous tremor creeping to her voice.

"No time for questions! Go on, get!" he shouted, rapidly ushering them outside.

The large man scooped up the smallest child and loped back to the village proper, where he unceremoniously left Colin on the mayor's porch. By that time the toddler was crying; as Link and Ilia ran up, the girl went to the side of the two-year-old and put her arm around him while her large eyes darted from Juble to her friend. Link looked around, knowing something serious was happening but yet unable to figure out what. He too watched as the rancher hurried to meet Rusl and Hanch on the other side of the stream; the blacksmith carried his sword and Beth's father awkwardly held a rather short, stout bow. Before he could see where the men headed, the abrupt sound of a door opening arrested the boy's attention.

"There you are, Ilia!" Emeline exclaimed, withdrawing from the safety of the house to put her arms around her daughter. "Come inside, hurry! No, not a word of protest! You too, Link!"

The girl clung to her mother with one hand; meanwhile, the mayor's wife all but dragged them inside, upon which she immediately turned and bolted the door. Colin was wailing and begging pitifully for his own mommy while Link patted his shoulder and nervously alternated his gaze between him and the fair-haired lady.

"Mama, what's happening?!" Ilia's tone broke with fear and she grabbed for the end of her mother's shirt.

Emeline knelt on one of her thick rugs and pulled the children closer. "Shhhh, shhh, it's okay, my dears. You're safe. We're all safe right here." She picked up the smaller boy and hushed him gently.

"But Mama…!"

The mayor's wife put one hand behind her daughter's head and tilted it upwards until their eyes met. "Now Ilia, I told you we're safe. I will explain everything to you and Link but first we have to calm poor Colin. You don't want to frighten him anymore, do you?"

She shook her head quickly but still kept a firm hold on Emeline's embroidered garment. The girl again gazed toward her friend; he had moved around to his aunt's back and had proceeded to make all manner of goofy faces for the benefit of the little fellow who wailed inconsolably. The woman murmured softly to Colin, held him close and rubbed his back. Ilia gulped the protest that rose to her lips, sniffled once and, loosing her mother's hem, joined Link in playing peek-a-boo.

His sobs morphing into little hiccups, Colin finally quieted. By that time, the others had moved to the back room where Gilles had all the time been blissfully playing with some unevenly shaped blocks. Emeline set the second blonde boy on the floor and there he remained, gnawing at his thumb and watching the formation and immediate destruction of several little towers. The mayor's wife drew just a short distance away and bade the two older children follow her. She seated herself on one of Bo's stump stools and drew her daughter closer. Link leaned against her knee.

"My dears, I am glad you are here, safe with me. You see, Jaggle spotted a monster of some sort and all the men have gone to hunt it down. That is why Juble was in such a hurry. But do not worry…nothing can harm us here."

Ilia trembled and burrowed a little further into her mother. She knew how much she was acting like a clingy toddler, but she found it most unnerving to have such a fearful thing in their peaceful little village where nothing happened outside of the usual childish hijinks. She figured that her best friend put on a braver face than did she, but she was too preoccupied to look at him. The boy shivered as he recalled the nasty creature from which the golden wolf had saved him and he too drew closer to his aunt.

"Are they going to be okay?" came her muffled voice.

Link chimed in, "Yeah, they'll be okay, won't they? Uncle Juble took the pitchforkth!"

"Of course they will," the lady replied, though her own voice held a thread of uncertainty.

The children looked at each other, concern lighting a blaze in their eyes. Ilia was certainly most worried about her father, but her best friend could not have chosen which uncle he should most be worried about if perfect speech depended on it.

"But what about Fern?" he asked, trying to keep the tremble he felt at his fingertips from traveling up and coming out his lip.

"She'll be fine. The men won't let it anywhere near the barn or the goats. Now, we're not going to sit around worrying," Emeline declared as she rose from her seat. "Ilia, why don't you come to the kitchen with me and we'll fix up something for the men when they get back. Link, you can stay here and play with the little ones, unless you'd rather help us."

"I'll…stay here," he replied after a moment of thought.

He squeezed his friend's hand before she quit the room with her mother and then he turned to look at the toddlers. He wished he did not have to be alone with them, but at the same time he would not go with the females as he was afraid he would embarrass himself in his nervousness. Though he squatted on the floor and tried to entice Gilles to share his toys, his mind was swimming with thoughts and concerns. Fear of the unknown, creeping up his spine like a vine of ivy, brought a furrow to his brow and a frown to his lips. He snapped at Ilia's brother for monopolizing all the blocks and the younger child retaliated by throwing three of those items, one of which hit Link in the cheek.

"Ow, that hurt!" he cried petulantly, shaking Gilles' shoulder. "You naughty little boy! Don't throw things at me."

The exasperating little child stuck out his tongue and proceeded playing as merrily as he had previously. With a little sound from Colin, Link realized the other two-year-old was devolving into tears again; with an exaggerated sigh he took the chubby hand and led him to the other side of the room. He wanted to express his concerns about the safety of the village and the sinking feeling that was like a rock to his stomach, but most of all he wanted to avoid more grief on the part of the other boy. Instead, he began tracing his finger in the dirt of the floor, creating a crude illustration of the small child who watched him, knuckle in mouth. Then he began to trace the letters which Granny had taught him, and explained each one to Colin even though he was too little to understand.

After a time, Gilles tired of playing alone with mere chunks of wood and he padded over to learn what the other two were doing so quietly on their side of the room. "Col?" he said, sticking a couple of fingers to the other toddler.

"Gill, stop that," Link warned him as he glanced from his spelling. "It isn't nice to poke someone."

The unheeding child prodded Colin again and the latter shrank away. "No, no," he whimpered, looking to the elder boy for deliverance.

What Link really wanted to do was allow his anxiety and fear to channel into anger at the little pest. "Gilles…" he repeated, both voice and ire rising, but then he stopped. Granny had always taught him that the elder children must set an example for the younger. It would be so easy to snap at Gilles to make him behave for all of a few minutes, but when he imagined Granny's disappointed look he clamped his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say, then?

"Gill, stop poking Colin right now." He sighed and scooted closer to both toddlers. "Look, I'll show you how to make letters in the dirt, okay?"

The timid child rose on pudgy legs and scrambled behind Link. With no one left to torment, Gilles commenced running his feet back and forth over the impressions in the dirt with a grim little expression on his grubby face. Though he ruined several of the Link's letters, the elder boy found that he hardly cared about their destruction. As he encouraged Gilles to draw in the floor his thoughts drifted outside.

Though he trembled at the mere thought of seeing the monster his uncles hunted, the desire to do something of use expanded in his chest until he felt like the room was closing in on him. The motions of his dominant hand slowed almost to nothing a few times as he thought of his goat and friend, depressed and alone in a stable of other goats who paid no attention to her. What if the monster-creature-thing somehow managed to evade the notice of the men who hunted it and sneak into the barn? He shivered again at the mental image of the monster jumping on Fern, and his imagination provided enough terrified screams to set his knees to quivering. Setting his jaw, he resolved upon a course of action.

As Colin seemed to be falling asleep and Gilles was more rolling around on the floor than drawing in the dirt any more, Link had no trouble in slipping quietly away from them. If Ilia saw him she'd want to join him and he would never consent to pulling her into danger with him; if her mother saw him she would stop him. He glanced toward the kitchen where they worked and saw his best friend peeling a potato; he knew if he breathed shallowly and carefully avoided all the many squeaky parts of the floor, he was sure he could get past them unnoticed.

Taking that route proved to be as complex and involved as going through a maze, requiring him to crawl under the mayor's big desk and stepping up on one of the shelves. He barely breathed as he tiptoed his way across the floor, but he reached the door at last. His hand on the knob, he was on the verge of silently letting himself outside when something grabbed at the leg of his trousers.

"Where'r, Li?"

He turned and found a blue-eyed toddler staring up at him. "Shh, Colin," he cautioned, putting a finger to his lips. "You're not supposed to be here." His eyes darted toward the door-less entryway to the kitchen and then he lowered himself to the two-year-old's level. "Go back and play, Colin. You can't come with me."

With mouth forming into a most pitiable pout, Colin fixed him with large baby eyes and clung to him. "Li…"

Link did his best to detach the child. "Stay here. I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay?" He stood and again placed his hand on the knob.

"And where do you think you're going, young man?"

The nine-year-old swung around again and gulped. With a spoon in one fist and the other hand placed on her hip, Emeline stood and viewed him disapprovingly from the kitchen entryway. At her mother's side was Ilia, who stared at him with expression devoid of her usual smile.

"I asked you a question, Link. What are you up to?"

"Uh…" he mumbled, lowering his eyes to the wood floor. "I, um, I just wanted to see Fern."

Ilia drew nearer as her face scrunched into a larger frown. "But it's dangerous out there! Mother said so!"

"Ah, what am I to do with you, Link?" The mayor's wife simultaneously shook her head and her spoon at him. "You must stay here, dear boy."

His gaze rested upon his bare feet and his mood lay somewhere around his toes. With both hands Colin caught again at his trouser leg and kept saying his name. In his current mood, Link might have shoved the little fellow away but he simply couldn't bring himself to be that mean.

"I only wanted to make sure she's safe," he muttered. He would not allow the tears that stung the corners of his eyes to escape.

His best friend came to him and put a sticky hand on his arm; he did not resist but he also kept his head down. Emeline also drew near and picked up the blonde toddler.

"Come to the kitchen, Link," she bade him, gesturing with her spoon. "We'll talk more there."

He allowed Ilia to lead him away from the door and soon found himself in the kitchen. The woman set Colin in one corner away from the fireplace and gave him a potato and carrot to amuse himself. She returned to the pot over the fire which held a mixture of meat, herbs and milk simmering inside, while at the table her daughter finished rolling some dough.

"Don't fret so, dear… Your goat'll be fine."

"Are y-you sure?" he asked, gulping as he imagined worst case scenarios again. "She's so sad she might not fight back. I don't want her to be hurt."

"And that's exactly why I can't allow you to go outside right now."

Lifting his head, Link met the eyes of the woman who stopped her cooking to stand before him. He blinked a couple of times and ran a hand down the side of his face.

"I know you're worried about your goat. How worried do you think I would be if you went out there?" Emeline asked simply. She fixed him with a long look before she turned back to food preparations.

A germ of understanding sprouted in the boy's mind like the grain the villagers raised in their fields. He wanted no less to go to Fern, but he knew he could circumvent his aunt's order until they knew it was safe. Meanwhile, he allowed Ilia to involve him in her task and he remained in the kitchen until the food was prepared. Then they all returned to the back room where they shared the repast and amused the toddlers.

When the men returned, darkness shrouded the land and a light drizzle of rain dampened everything and everyone. Only Rusl and the mayor entered through the front doors; the other men instead returned to their homes and families. Emeline offered to share the meal with the blacksmith, but Rusl declined, picked up his slumbering son and was gone with a few final words and a goodnight. Meanwhile, Bo wearily sat himself at the table and his wife placed portions of her cooking on a plate. The two shared a brief look as she set it before him.

"You look tired, dear. Eat now and tell me about your search. The others are well?"

Attempting to remain as inconspicuous as possible, the two children loitered nearby as soon as he had come in. Unable to contain themselves anymore, they pressed closer.

"Did you find the monster?" Link asked, pulling at his own fingers. "Did you kill it?"

"Are you okay, Father? You're not hurt?!"

Emeline placed both hands on her hips and stared them down. "Children! Don't bother your father so! Give him a chance to eat!"

The faces of both children drooped in disappointment. "But…" Ilia protested.

"Go on, now! It's past your bedtime. Go right upstairs and take Gilles with you."

Link's expression was like that of a kicked puppy. Ilia raised her head again. "But Mama…"

"Wait just a minute now," Bo groused, thumping a hand to the table and raising himself in the chair just a bit. "I s'pose they have the right to know."

The woman quirked her lips. "Hmhm. Well, if you don't mind, Bo, then I suppose… But you children must march right off to bed after that, understood?"

They nodded quickly and again drew near the mayor. He turned his gaze from his wife and Ilia, being the perceptive young thing that she was, paused as she noticed the tiredness lying behind the sternness of his gaze. She nudged her best friend and glance at him; he'd seen too.

"We did not kill the beast, but we surely wounded it. It won't be bothering our flocks anytime soon now," the man informed them. "We're all tired but we're not hurt, except Juble got his arm kinda scratched up."

"Everything's…okay, then?" the girl asked.

Link could only stare, hardly daring to believe they were quite safe after all that fretting and worrying.

"Yes, duckling," he replied, and she almost thought he was going to pull her into his lap, something he hadn't done in some time.

"All right, now, off you two go to bed!" Emeline said, ushering them from the kitchen and not considering further protest.

Between them, Ilia and Link dragged a stubbornly reluctant two year old to the loft, managed to divest him of the clothes he'd been wearing all day and get him into the bed which both boys shared. The two older children whispered to each other and neither of them had plans to join Gilles just yet; they had to make sure he was asleep first, as they did not want him to follow them. It took all of five minutes, in which Ilia checked every ten seconds whether her brother's eyes were closed, and Link kept peeking over the top of the stairs in an attempt to hear something.

"…Monster got a couple of the goats," grumbled Bo.

That was the first thing the two children heard as they crept near. Link's breath caught in his throat and he had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from making a sound. Ilia's hand found his and they both leaned nearer to catch every word, their hearts tripping through what felt like a field of brambles.

Emeline exclaimed quietly, grimly, "Oh no!" She continued to rub her towel over the clean dish in her hands. "First with the ones who died in the kidding, and now this…"

"Which is why we're startin' a watch at night. We can't let that blasted monster get any more of our livestock!"

The children could not see, but the woman's eyebrows furrowed and her lips tilted downward. Finally she seemed to realize the dish she held was long past being dry and she set it aside. "Is Juble all right?"

"The beast jumped him and he fought it off, but it chewed up his arm. It looked bad enough that it might not heal properly."

His wife's reply was a look, a further twisting of her lips.

"The boys will have to help more with the goats, with Juble with a bad arm. Fado is the logical one, and Link too. He's good with them goats."

Several moments of near silence followed, in which the children held their breaths for fear of being discovered. Bo inhaled a few more bites of his wife's cooking while she kept her hands busy in her kitchen and making sure he had enough to eat. The slight patter of raindrops punctuated the silence like tiny hands trying to push their way into the house.

The mayor lowered his spoon and stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping sound. "This is the first rain we've had in two months. I only hope it lasts."

However, that drizzle faded to nothingness before an hour had slipped away, and several months would pass before the village was again bathed in the life-giving tears of the heavens. The villagers awoke early the next morning, some with the hopes of finding the ground soaked through, but little else than the dust was affected.

Link's dreams the night before had been filled with images of his beloved goat, for he had not known for sure if she was well and whole, and he had not dared to interrupt the adults when he and Ilia were meant to be in bed. When he woke the next morn, his thoughts did not center on the rain or lack thereof. He sneaked from the house by climbing out the window; he ran all the way up the hill to the barn, slipped inside and when he found his horned friend he threw himself on her in a frenzied hug.

"You're okay. You're thafe!" he mumbled into her fur.

She bleated woefully.

A short time later when Juble entered the barn, followed reluctantly by his son, they both found Link at work milking those goats who were not nursing at all or who only had one kid. As he was so relieved that Fern was unharmed but concerned over the fact that she was so forlorn, he wanted to stay close as he could to her.

"Next time tell someone where you run off to, boy," the big rancher said, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down in a dark frown. His right arm was almost twice its normal size, as it was completely swathed in bandages. "Have you been milkin' this whole time?"

Link's fingers paused for a moment as he looked up at the man. He gulped a little as he saw that some blood had seeped through the bandages. "Um, no, Uncle Juble. I had to make sure Fern was safe…"

"You spend far too much time motherin' that goat. Let her look after herself!" He motioned to his son. "Fado, you and Link finish the milkin'. Let the goats out to graze, but do not let them go to the far pastures, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," both boys replied quickly.

With another grimace, Juble stalked from the barn. Link turned back to his task, his face tight and his pride smarting after that remark. Fado, too, looked utterly dejected as he stared at the many does in their stalls, a pail hanging loosely in his fingers. The poor goat who had Link attending to her probably wondered what happened to him, as he seemed to have forgotten how to be gentle.

For all his ire and frustration, his thoughts were diverted when he heard the other boy making a strange, half muffled sound in his throat. Link left the side of the doe he was milking and padded toward his friend. Fado, his shoulders hunched miserably, kept leaning toward the side of one of the goats and drawing back almost as quickly. Tears rolled down his cheeks and after every attempt he used his hand to push the moisture back, like piling more sticks against a failing dam. He didn't even notice the approach of the other child.

Link was unsure whether he should say something or not. "Fado?" he mumbled, after that moment of hesitation.

The other boy jerked and averted his face still more while he scrubbed away at the tears. His shoulders jumped as he tried to swallow his emotion.

The Hylian child knocked his brains about for a reason his friend should be upset. "Your dad is all right, isn't he?" he questioned.

Fado nodded his head slightly.

Link glanced toward the barn door as if he expected Juble to come stomping over the threshold. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't nervous, that he didn't care if the rancher scolded them for not doing their job, but he was not fully successful in so doing. He still bristled at the words the man had thrown at him, but he did not want to be on the receiving end of his temper.

Again the larger boy reached for the doe's teats, but she swiveled her head to look at him. He snapped his hands back as if she'd bitten him. "I'm… afraid," whispered he.

For a second, the golden-headed boy scrunched his brows and cocked his head in puzzlement. Then his eyes widened as he recalled how many times he'd helped Fado out by doing the milking for him, or rubbing down a sick goat, or basically anything else that had to do with getting close to the animals. It was hard for him to believe at first, as Fado was certainly bigger than Link, almost as big as the adult goats.

"It's okay. She won't bite you."

"I'm scared," Fado mumbled again, scooting back on the floor of the barn and drawing up his knees. "…D-do you remember when we were little and the goats trampled us?"

The other child shrugged. He'd been knocked about by the blue-furred creatures more times than he could count, earning himself bruises and broken bones; almost every time Juble had remonstrated him because he'd been doing something to annoy a goat, whether intentional or not. There were times after these mishaps when he was wary or even a bit afraid of the animals, but was too foolish or else too stubborn to give up.

"When I get close…I think about that…and I can't do it!" Fado looked at the large blue body of the goat, at her strong legs and hooves, and her head with the unique but terrifying horns. "And…if my dad finds out he'll be so mad!"

"I gueth they are kinda scary sometimes," Link said. "But they're also really nice when you get to know them. This one, I call her Britha. You see how she keeps looking at you?"

"Yeah, she doesn't want me to touch her."

The smaller child shook his head. "Her udder is full and she wants for you to milk her." He put both his hands under her chin, causing her to raise her head as he murmured a few comforting words to her. "She may be nervous because she doesn't know you very well or your touch. Pat her side a few times before you reach down and keep talking to her so she knows what you're doing."

"B-but what if she tries to kick?"

"She won't kick you and she won't bite. Come on, you have to try it, Fado. Slow and easy."

Link continued to caress the animal's head and the other boy touched her flank, only to drop back when she shifted her foot.

"I…I can't do it! I'm scared!"

The Hylian child let all his breath out in one exasperated huff. "Fado, you have to do it! If your dad comes in here and sees we haven't finished, he'll be mad for thure!"

Fado let out a small, wail-like sound, which would have made him feel utterly ashamed if he hadn't been so afraid. Again he stared at the goat, his eyes wide in all his dread. He then turned his eyes to his friend, who nodded to him. Holding his breath captive in his throat, the larger boy patted the goat's side tentatively, and then reached once more for her teats with fingers that trembled as if with a chill. He had one eye squeezed shut as he painstaking began milking her. Link kept the animal calm and she was very docile all the time it took Fado, at least three times more than an experienced milker would need.

"Th-there," he said, using the back of his hand to swipe at the sweat which drenched his brow. "I-I think that's enough."

"You did such a good job," Link whispered, and first Fado thought it was meant for him rather than the goat.

The younger child let her free then and she wandered to some of her sister goats who were munching away at the hay. Link picked up the bucket with the milk and looked at his friend. Fado was still staring at the animal as she trotted away, as if he couldn't believe what he'd done.

"Do you think you can do it now?" he questioned.

Fado took one long, shuddering breath. "I d-don't know… I guess I can t-try."

Link grinned and then returned to the side of the doe who probably thought he had forgotten her completely. As he leaned into her side so he could reach with his youthfully short arms, his friend followed him and slowly tried to work up to another of the goats waiting next to him. While Fado managed to milk that one more doe, the other boy finished those that remained.

"Ehm, Link?"

The hylian child tilted his head to look at his friend.

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you? Especially my dad."

"I won't tell," Link promised.

The breath Fado had been holding escaped all in a rush. He trembled, more from relief than the fear which didn't have him clutched quite so tightly in its unforgiving claws.

The two boys opened the barn and then transported their buckets of milk to the cool underground cave where the villagers stored their perishables. Juble, wrenching one-handedly at a fence several yards from the barn, saw them and gruffly asked what had taken them so long to finish their task. Fado cast an uncertain glance at Link, but the latter did not disappoint in keeping his word. Both boys replied with a mumbled apology and finished carrying the milk after the rancher's brusque command.

Upon back trudging back up to the ranch, Link noticed that his uncle had moved from his previous spot and was instead in the pasture, crouched next to a familiar goat. The boy's breath caught in his throat that first moment when he wondered what the rancher was doing next to his beloved Fern. As he came nearer, he could also see the much smaller blue head of a kid as it stood on trembling little legs and suckled from the doe.

He sank to his knees and began stroking both Fern and the sweet doeling. He took a peek at the man. "Uncle Juble?"

He grunted. "The mother refused to nurse this little one." Juble rose to his feet, swayed a mite, and put his good arm around the bandaged one. "You have work to do, Link."

The Hylian boy kept quite busy that day, working all morning with the goats, and helping Fado to become a little friendlier with the animals whenever Juble was not watching. Later he trooped back to the village and aided in the planting of the huge pumpkin patch. Ilia found him as he was sweating and bending over the little mounds.

"Hi, Ilie."

"Where did you go this morning, Link?" she queried, a little frown on her lips and her hands on her hips.

He sat back on his haunches and put a hand over his eyes as he glanced up at her. "I just went to see Fern."

"I wanted to come too," she said, a little pout coming over expression.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He jumped to his feet and reached for her hand. "Please don't be mad. I'll bring you next time, okay?"

She did not shrug away from his touch, crusted with soil as it was. She paused and then her face softened. "…Well, okay, only if you promise you won't forget next time."

He nodded, his mouth curving up and into a beaming smile. He crouched and continued with his task.

"Why are you smiling?" she questioned, giving him a look as she too took to her knees and helped him plant the seeds.

And then he explained to her how Juble gave Fern two kids to nurse, the one whose mother would not nurse her, and a small buck whose unfortunate mother had fallen to the claws of the monster the day before. He was properly sober when speaking of the casualty; knowing what the creature had done to a couple of the goats made him wish he was older and could have joined in the hunt. He kept that thought to himself, however, as he knew the mere mention of it to Ilia would cause her to worry and implore him to never do something like that.

The girl's eyes were bright with the enthusiasm which also filled her friend, and she had completely forgotten her previous dissatisfaction. "Ooh, I want to see them too!" she exclaimed and would have clasped her hands in delight if the one was not full of pumpkin seeds. Instead she let the seeds fall to the ground and stood up. "Let's go right now, Link!"

He rose too, though with some hesitancy. "Right now? Are you sure, Ilie?"

"We'll just be a couple minutes," she replied, brushing off her hands.

With one eyebrow still crinkled a bit uncertainly, he began to follow her out of the pumpkin patch. However, they'd only gone a few paces when they caught the attention of Jaggle, who was also working in the field.

"Where are you two off to?"

"We'll be right back, Uncle Jaggle," Ilia said.

The farmer frowned as his eyebrows took a dip over his eyes. "Link, you're supposed to be planting the pumpkins. Don't let me catch you sneaking off again."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, his shoulders drooping.

"And Ilia, if you're going to help stay with it. You can play later."

She made a similar response as had her friend, and they both trudged back to the spot where they'd been working. Her face was scrunched into a very child-like scowl. "Hmph," she muttered. "We weren't going to play. I only wanted to see the goats!" She was not satisfied until both of them had the opportunity to do just that.

It was Link's fifth year helping plant the village's pumpkins and he did not know to expect anything but the bountiful crop they had known during those other times. As he had the other years, he made at least one trek every day to the patch to see if any of the seeds had sprouted yet. Hyram still made fun of him for so doing, but Link had learned there was only thoughtlessness behind those words.

"You know you want the pumpkins as much as I do," the boy with the pointed ears retorted merrily. "Your mum's pumpkin pie is the best thing in the world!"

The youth rolled his eyes and gave the other child a friendly punch to the shoulder.

Link was bound to be disappointed, though. The growth of those much-cared-for vines began as they should, but the distinct lack of even the slightest precipitation made itself felt through the land before summer was fully upon it. The days were unexpectedly hot early in the season, which only served to further crack the ground and wither much of what grew upon it, whether planted by human hand or not.

Also early in summer was Link's tenth birthday. The villagers were all stressed and anxious about the weather and their crops, so it was something of a relief for everyone to put aside their worries, even for a little bit, in honor of their adopted boy's natal day. Everyone above the age of four had a gift for him, too, whether it was a simple, handmade tool or piece of clothing, or perhaps a few words of felicitations. The meal the ladies prepared was a simple one, as they were wisely cautious of the state of their pantries.

As was their custom on someone's birthday, the children made boats out of wood, bark, animal hide, or whatever else they could scrounge. They placed a lit candle stub in these small vessels and then set them to drifting down the creek which divided the village. Ilia had long been saving a light piece of wood which her father had helped her to better its boat-like form, and it was this which she presented her best friend.

"I hope it floats furthest," she whispered to him.

After setting the vessels free, the children all watched their boats and ran along the shore line to keep them in sight. Hyram's was a sturdy little thing and was caught in the same slight current as Link's. The two tiny vessels bumped each other a few times, causing the watchers to catch their breaths and fear that both boats might capsize. Ilia spared an annoyed look to the elder boy as if he was purposely making his boat operate that way.

The children gave a cheer when Link's vessel, with the lit candle still intact and burning within, kept floating down the creek after Hyram's got caught in some river weeds. If the winning boat belonged to someone other than the birthday child, the victor was expected to hand the right of making a wish to the other child in honor of the day. It was always considered especially good luck, however, if the best boat belonged to the one with the birthday.

Ilia beamed and turned to her friend. "Make a wish, Link!"

"I already did."

Ruben piped up, "What did you wish for, huh, Link?" but the other children knew the tradition and did not question. Those who knew the Hylian boy best could well guess his desire, however.

"I wished for rain," he said the following day, to the one person he was willing to tell.

"Hmph," mumbled the old lady as she ceased her rocking. She fixed the boy with a strangely keen look. "You are better off praying to the goddesses, child, than trusting to wishes. That and trying whatever you can to help yourself and the village."

His eyebrows crinkled. "What do you mean, Granny?"

She only closed her eyes and leaned her head back in her chair, which of late was something she seemed to be doing more, as if she knew there was little left to life. Link went away with a frown puckering his face. He wandered to the pumpkin patch to take a look at the sad, yellowing vines which held stunted pumpkins. He stared long and hard at them, wondering what Granny could possibly expect him to do.

He started, his head flying up and out of his pensiveness. Juble was shouting at him to quit gawking at vegetables that would not grow just by staring at them, and for him to come help Fado with the goats. Link trudged up to the ranch, his mouth still screwed into a frown. He even snapped at his beloved pet when she, still with her adopted daughter by her side, tried to stray away from the others. Fern knocked him aside with one not quite gentle thrust of her head, and continued where she had a mind to go. She slipped easily through the gate, which Fado had left open, and the doeling followed her.

Picking himself up, he ran after her, his angry pride smarting more than anything else. "Come back here!"

He caught up to her only after she reached the village's creek. She bent her marvelously horned head and serenely lapped the clear water with her tongue. Link came up just short of her, his breaths coming in little exasperated gasps, and she raised her dark eyes to look at him.

"Baa-aaaa!" she said, as if she was asking him why he was in such a sweat; all she wanted was a drink.

He stared at her for a long moment, scrunching up his face before he realized what he was doing. Then he let all his breath out in one big sigh, and with it the foul humor he was in. He padded over to her side and caressed her head, his expression forlorn.

"I'm sorry, girl," he whispered, leaning near her ear. "It's not your fault you don't like to drink from that old trough. But the adults don't let us waste any water and it's a lot of work to carry it up to the ranch…"

His words trailed off as he stared at the slow trickle of the creek. Leaning over the surface of the water, he plunged in his hand and drew it out, staring at his dripping fingers. His eyes widened and his mouth curved upwards. Then he hugged Fern, earning a surprised "Baaa-aa!" from her.

When her thirst was satisfied, she willingly followed him up to the ranch again and only stopped to nibble at a bit of half-dried grass. As soon as she was safely back in the pasture, the boy hurried to Juble and eagerly begged him to let him off. When the rancher gave the slow and grudging permission for him to leave, Link dashed off to find the mayor.

"May I please do it, Uncle Bo?" he pleaded after so rapidly explaining his idea that the poor man had a tough time keeping up.

"Slow down, lad, slow down," the leader of the little village told him. "I'll talk to the others and see what they think. For now, get on back to the ranch and help with them goats."

"But…!"

"Link," Mayor Bo warned.

The boy hung his head, his enthusiasm deflating a bit. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, and headed back to the ranch.

A little while later, however, Ilia came trotting up to the pastures and told him that her father gave permission. "What's this all about, Link?" she added onto the end of her message.

Instead of responding, he grinned, grabbed for her hand and began running back toward the village.

The girl, her eyes bright with excitement, stumbled for a few steps and then adjusted her pace to match his. She still thought it was terribly unfair that he was always bigger than she was, but her father always said she had excellent stamina and she had no trouble in keeping up with her best friend. Usually it was he who had to keep up with her and her excited, child-like ideas and ventures.

"Where're we going?" she questioned, a bit breathless this time.

He turned his head briefly and beamed at her again. He popped into one of the outdoor sheds and quickly emerged with a pair of wooden buckets which saw so many uses in the village.

"Come on, this way! To the pumpkin patch!"

The following half hour saw Link laboring tirelessly in hauling water from the stream to the thirsty plants. Ilia helped him as well, and truth be told she spilled more than a little of her water so she could match the number of trips that her friend made. Her father scolded her for the waste when he came by to check on the little project; she promised to be more careful.

Any villager between the age of five and ninety-five at some point or another helped Link carry a few bucketfuls of water and gave him some indication of their encouragement, though the babies were too little and Granny too unsteady. By the blessing of the goddesses, the stream dwindled but never dried up, its source somewhere deep underground.

It was thanks to Link's idea and continual labors to water the patch that the villagers had any pumpkins that year. While the harvest was skimpy and hardly enough to stock the pantries, the bright orange vegetables were the best they could boast, as the other crops were all but killed by the drought. Even the goats' milk was less and there was little extra to go around. There was no trip to any of the other towns to sell produce and cheese that fall.

It will be a little while yet before Link is at the right age when the events of the game start happening. I have more hardships and drama to put these villagers through, more growing on the children's parts. I do hope you enjoy and I will see you later.

01-18-2018 ~ Published