7: Gift

The bond of sworn brothers was far stronger than the mountain rock.

As many a Hylian would tell you, the Gorons of Death mountain were, by any stretch, a rather peculiar lot.

Scholars thought them dull witted, and quite often strained their patience to hold civil conversations with the mountain faring tribe. Soldiers found them to be a belligerent and stubborn group, impossibly headstrong or else, simply too literal to talk tactics with. Hylian blacksmiths were well known for either bitterness against them for their fierce business rivalry, or reverent respect for the masters of masonry and ironwork. Even the judgemental nobles found the Gorons to be 'good for a laugh', and quite a few highbrow jokes and quips centred around their 'brothers'; confidence taken in the fact that no rock dweller would pick up on them as the vague insults they were.

To the Gorons, however, high up in their simple city of rock and carving at the summit, it was Hyliankind that seemed strange. The difference was, in true fashion to their humble and uncomplicated culture, such opinions went unvoiced. To speak ill of their brothers was a dishonour, and terribly rude, even if pointed ears were not privy to such things. Even so, despite hearing of their oddness as perceived by outsiders, the Gorons returned such speculation only with respect and goodwill...

Perhaps even, to their detriment.

As was customary now between the two races, every three years would be held a gathering to celebrate their alliance and encourage continued relations to go favourably. It was a grand political opportunity to gain some standing in the eyes of the other, based on hospitality, and offerings and gifts were commonplace.

But this year's festivities seemed dimmed for the Goron's patriarch, his dark eyes scanning the visitors to this proud city of his as they all lingered outside the entrance; the rocky vista painted by the setting sun in shades of red and orange. Usually, Darunia favoured his own turn to host these occasions, often the first to indulge in music and spirited dancing, but as he stood surreptitious to lean against the rock, he found he simply couldn't bring his feet to move without the hot beat of the forest whistling around him.

Blunt fingers tapped idle against his bicep as yet another representative approached the square platform in the middle of it all, a basket of wines placed within the circle of rock with other offerings. He was thankful for the usual harshness of his face, barely able to hide the disappointed grimace that took it even as the beat of Goron drums filled the air to sway lanterns.

He wouldn't say a word. No Goron would dare turn away a gift given, especially under such circumstance, but the simple fact was the gifts received this year were of poor selection. Gorons did not drink spirits, nor enjoy pot pourri. They could not eat the fine and exotic fruits, had no use for swords, regardless of their workmanship, and their culture passed information through generations by mouth, not book.

As the evening wore on, Darunia had all but lost faith in his 'sworn brothers', their gifts a sure but simple sign that they did not care to think outside of their own ways and needs—a stark and foreboding reflection upon the political affairs to follow in years to come, surely.

Where normally the stubborn patriarch would feel anger in his belly, it worried him to find only a sad longing for bygone times, to the days before Ganondorf, when he and the Hyrulian King were still so mutually inclined... Mutually understood.

A hefty sigh left him with a slump of his heavyset frame, a slight grinding of his back ridges upon the wall as he did so, and with a hint of defeat he turned toward the great door with disappointment.

From the edge of the crowd, struggling with a grunt and red cheeked from the journey, the padding of soft soled boots rang out as the guests fell strangely silent; an odd gasp and snicker here and there. He paid no attention to the others of his kind, this late arrival, and with some effort moved through them as they studied his peculiar cargo.

"Surely, that's not his gift?" whispered a woman in the back, surprise and mortification etched onto her features.

"Do you know that boy? I've never seen him before..." asked someone of the Goron beside him, though he received only a grin in response.

Stopped by curiosity, Darunia turned slowly, a bemused frown lasting only a second as a verdant green caught his gaze. No sooner did he catch the glimpse of him did the Patriarch's foot tap, the ghosting melody he adored running through his head, ringing of the forest from which the boy hailed.

A crunching thud caused many to flinch as the burlap sack he carried was more or less heaved upon the offering platform, and with a relieved sigh and a cheeky grin, the lad took a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, brushing blonde bangs aside. Blue eyes fixed upon his old friend, and the gold of his bracelets, so familiar, shimmered fondly back at the Goron chief.

"Sorry I'm late, Darunia. You have no idea how heavy things are for me now that I'm small again."

The Goron's stony expression cracked, and to the shock of the other guests, a barrelling laughter erupted from Darunia's belly, jovial and loud. "Link, my Brother!" it was warm and fond, full of relief as bulky arms were held out to him in welcome. "It is good to see you have not forgotten us!"

The boy gave a pleased pat to the mysterious cargo he'd brought, as a furrowed brow stole his boyish features, though not enough to rid him of his smile as all eyes turned to him. "It's not much... But it was the best I could find by myself." he mused self consciously, ruffling his hat and perusing the assorted offerings, knowing well of their worth.

As the other Hylian representatives watched on, embarrassed and intrigued by this strange child's appearance, the whispers were many fold. But when Link, to their great horror, reached into the sack and produced no more than common rocks, he received instead a happy cheer from the Goron's gathered around. Confused glances were shared alongside questions and shock, but it was clear to the visitors that this boy had outdone them all when the lofty tribe members cleaved to him with smiles and friendly pats to the back, praising his thoughtful gift. It was decided, very quickly, that the lad was as peculiar as the Gorons, simply unable to understand the appeal of rocks over wines.

But when the large hand of Darunia came to clasp his small brother's shoulder, his dark eyes shone brightly with renewed hope for the future.

"It's the best gift I could ask for, Brother." he chuckled, thankful. "Now play us that tune!"