The Waters of Nayru
Chapter 3: Legacy
By, Frank Hunter

It was almost dark by the time Rigo and Amili returned to the dormitories, still in good spirits from the successful caper of the afternoon. They talked and laughed and practiced swordfighting as they walked, using small dowels they'd found discarded on the rooftops. In short, the day could not have gone better. Rigo enjoyed spending time with Amili. She was funny, she was compassionate, and, Rigo would never say this to her, but her smile made him flutter with sort of happiness he'd never felt for anyone else. He wondered if he "liked" her in the way some of the women sometimes did with the men across the river. He also wondered what exactly that meant.

Inside the dwelling, as they approached the small room that Rigo called home, his grandmother stepped out from behind the canvas flap that served as their door. She wore a scowl on her face that would have made vultures take flight, and it almost stopped Rigo in his tracks.

Grandmother looked over the both of them. "Amili, my dear," she said in a tone far more civil than she ought to have been able to manage. "Your mother is waiting for you I believe."

"Yeah, of course," Amili said hastily. She turned to Rigo, downcast now. "I told you we'd get caught," she muttered.

Rigo nudged her with his elbow, but she nudged him right back as she turned and made off quickly for her own small dwelling around the corner. Rigo was left alone with a force of nature.

"Get in here, boy," Grandmother hissed at him. "There's a pot of soup down beside the stove. Make yourself useful and put it up. The coals are already hot."

"Yes, grandmother," he said and trotted past her to do as she asked. She was silent as he got himself a stool and hoisted the large pot up. It took most of his strength, more than his grandmother was capable of in her elder years. She stared daggers into him as he worked, and he could feel her at his back, but he didn't know what to say.

As he set the pot above the fire, he turned to face her. "What?" he asked in his frustration.

"Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Rigo shrugged his shoulders exasperated and climbed down off the stool, setting it aside and out of the way. "It was just two apples! Like two apples would be a big deal. Like two apples will bring the whole marketplace crashing down…"

"It doesn't matter what it was or how many!" Grandmother cut in. "You forget the creed, boy. You forget that…"

Rigo cut right back in. "Gerudo are not to steal from other Gerudo, right?"

"More importantly than that, you are not to steal from other Gerudo. You cannot afford to be so careless!" Grandmother hobbled over to a small rocking chair settled in the corner across from the stove, where she could easily get up to stir the simmering pot as needed. She settled down slowly and with a groan that Rigo knew was pain in her joints and hips, a sound that disarmed him against her, quenched the fire that had been burning in him.

"You don't understand the importance of it, do you?" she asked him.

Rigo was at a loss. "It was just two apples," he repeated. He didn't have anything else to contribute.

"Need I remind you, boy, that a male child is born to the Gerudo only once in a hundred years?" she said.

"No," he said sullenly.

"Need I remind you that you are that male child?"

"No."

"Then you remember your destiny? You remember that you will be the king of this tribe and everyone in it on the day that you come of age?"

"Yes."

"You are thirteen years old, boy. That day is less than five years away. And when it happens, do you want this to be your legacy? To be known as the thief who stole from his own people in their own homes just so that he could enjoy an apple?"

"It could be worse," he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"It could be a lot worse. Our last king did much more than that, grandmother. Our last king was greedy. He was a blasphemer, he was a murderer…"

"You must not speak so ill of the Great Ganondorf, boy!"

"Why not!?" Rigo exploded again. Now that he had found his words, they just kept coming. "He did those things! He hurt people, he started a war that he lost, and got the Gerudo thrown out of Hyrule. You taught me all of this, grandmother. And still the people followed him. Still they served him. And you think they would condemn me over fruit?"

"It is precisely for that reason they would condemn you over fruit!" she shouted, and looked as though she surprised herself. She looked over her shoulder at the canvas door blocking their view into the main hall of the dormitories and the homes of dozens of other members of their tribe. Shadows were continually passing by.

"You should keep your voice down," Grandmother said, collecting herself.

"You were yelling, too," Rigo retorted.

"Shh," she whispered. Rigo sighed and settled down onto the floor.

"The failures of Ganondorf," she began quietly, "have shaken the faith of many good-hearted Gerudo who would have otherwise been faithful. You are right, Rigo, that Ganondorf made the Hylians afraid of our people. They came after us quickly once he had fallen. They came to the desert, and they had no mercy for what he did. And though we could not blame them for their anger, without the Great Ganondorf to lead us, we could not stand against them."

Rigo crossed his legs and rested his head on his fists. He fell silent. He always listened when Grandmother told the stories of their people.

"Those of us who survived the first battles had to retreat further into the desert, pulling back until we were farther away from water and life than the Hylian soldiers dared to go. And once we left, we could not go back. Our homes were abandoned, along with our temple, all of our treasures…"

"Treasures?" Rigo's ears perked up.

Grandmother nodded. "The riches of conquests past. All wealth gained through violence would be placed in the temple as tribute to the Sand Goddess."

"And…that treasure would still be there?"

Grandmother cocked an eyebrow. "It would be difficult to say, now. It's possible that poachers have come for it perhaps, but more likely that the Sand Goddess watches over what is hers. Regardless, leagues of desert stand between us and our past, and there is no going back there for it now."

"Right…"

"We traveled for weeks until we found the river here, and the town, Jirin, on the other side. And it is only through blind luck that we did. No one knew what would be deeper in the desert, and if there would be anything at all. And, the water aside, the Gerudo have always needed a race of males with which to procreate. If we had found no such race to replace the Hylians in this regard, we would have died as sure as if it had been on the sword. The people know this, Rigo, how close they came to utter extinction. They know it was caused by their blind devotion to Ganondorf as their king, simply because he was male. And though they are not so willing to break tradition and disregard the law for you to be the next king, you don't want to give them any excuse to see you as a threat to our race."

"But Sooru will have to give me the throne one way or the other. Even if I am a little careless now, I can still be a good king once I have the throne. I'd take it seriously then."

Grandmother shook her head. "Please, boy. Understand how delicate all of this is. Yes, Sooru's position is that of Stewardess. She is to lead the Gerudo only until you are of age. But that does not mean that she will want to turn the crown over. She would likely prefer to keep it herself, and she will be looking for a reason to do so."

Rigo had never seen his Grandmother get quite so serious. It was off-putting.

"It is important to create a legacy for yourself even now that the people can look up to and respect. It will make them more eager to accept you as their king, and it will better prepare you for the large boots you must fill. Please, boy. Learn to be trustworthy. Learn to be responsible."

Rigo reflected for a moment, but felt he did understand. He wanted to be king one day. He wasn't sure what he would do when he was, but he thought that he would do a good job when he got the chance. "Alright," he told his grandmother. "Alright, I'll try."

"Good boy."

That night, after soup and some written studies, Rigo slept. As he did, he dreamed of rooms with coffers that stretched to the sky, coffers filled with golden treasure that glittered in the darkness and seemed to call his name. And all of it would be his.