IN THE GARDENS WHERE FAERIES DWELL
In a beautiful land older than record, a twin brother of the age-old mountains and valleys it sat upon, stood tall the great Hyrule Castle and its sisterly town to rest beneath it as a glittering beacon of boundless prosperity; and there was newfound peace in this shining land and in the hearts of its people: the many who travelled its stone pathways, bearing neither fear nor worry in a time of such vast wealth and joy. Moreover, the townsfolk had come to keep great trust and belief in the foresight and guidance of their venerable chief, the good King of Hyrule.
It had been very nearly a year since that fateful, sombre day, when the stars fell out of the sky to streak across the night; and the hour of destiny was come when the traitor from the barren desert had been condemned as such. The payment for treason was one's life, thus her good father had said unto her. And the young boy of nine—the chosen one who conspicuously bore the mark of the Triforce of the Sacred Realm—had come and gone with him, vanished away on the back of his stalwart horse, toward and into the deep of the woods: the forbidden place whither faeries and other fanciful creatures of magic make their home. It was a place her mother had forewarned her of, the same place of her many visions to which, on lonely, cold nights, had come to her unbidden. But he had gone there nevertheless, back to where he hailed from: to a new land, a place unknown to her, and on a journey she knew not the account of. No visions had come further, no fantasies to write out the future to be strange and bewildering, like some vile marish of a land beyond the boundaries of her kingdom. But nightly she prayed to the many goddesses. Prayed that he might return triumphant to the castle gates, perhaps even in secret to the innermost sanctum of the castle courtyard where they had first met. And as the sun passed a hundred times and in its wake a shadow lay across the land, her prayers went unanswered, and the boy did not return.
When the day of her tenth year came about, her mighty father had come to her. In his majestic regalia that drug along the carpeted floor, resplendent in gold and the colour of red, he appeared before her one starless, moonlit night. His beard was long and groomed, the now ashen-white hair a sign of age long beyond his years. He sat upon his carven chair near her study and hearth to speak in his strong voice.
And thus her father, the king, said.
"The boy is lost, and with him a considerable charge: a treasured fragment of the Golden Power. It would be the infinite wisdom of kings; of a father even, for I to command you to cease these fanciful invocations which you tender nightly in your prayers. Nought said in words or of the mind can wrest him from the place that swallowed him. And you have only devoted yourself to further wrong, my good daughter: there, before the golden altar of our goddesses and from within the sacred temple that houses them, have you entreated the Goddess of Time to shield the lad. That is profanity, I say! O Nayru! O Din! O Farore! I beseech of you to absolve mine child for her naivety. Pray you be understanding, neither wroth nor vengeful!"
"What is it then I should do?" said Princess Zelda.
"Forget of him, so you might flourish and grow," answered the King of Hyrule.
"I cannot," said the princess. "For I have given him my heart; and I have bestowed upon him the artifact of our ancestors who made this castle their home for ten thousand years."
"The instrument?" asked the king.
"The very same," she said.
"Foolish child," said the king. "That magical instrument has passed through the Royal Family for a time not to be understood. You know not what you have done. But I have spoken thusly, and my only daughter will do as I saith. So will it be!"
Then he stood up from his carven chair, and in front of the crackling fire of the hearth, bade her kiss the royal signet wrapped around his little finger to affirm this very wish.
Thus the days went on as normal yet again, and her piety neither dwindled nor grew. She was born into the worship of the goddesses, and such a pious path had been preordained from birth. But the manner of her prayer had changed, the number of candles lit before the altar had ebbed with her shrinking heart, much like the ebbing tide of the great sea beneath the wondrous vales of a waxing moon.
And she went back to her old ways, to the lonesome days before she had met the boy from the forbidden woods. She was well-tutored and learned in the studies of a noblewoman, of a beautiful Princess of Hyrule. She found solace in such things: in poring her mind onto her ancient, time-honoured crafts, to sewing, to the study of language and manuscript; her family followed the ancient ways, and there was nought to do but commit herself to these practices. But one day, when her twelfth year had come, there arose a new confrontation. Her great father, the king, had once again sent word to her, bidding her come before him.
And very soon the young princess stood before him: in not the carven chair of her bedchambers, but as he sat there on his majestic throne of power from which he had not moved for quite some time; a place where light, growing dim, from the high stained-glass windows, showed his aged blue eyes and wrinkled face looking far into the future, as if sprung up by the magical foresight bestowed to those of her family's bloodline. Overhead, the golden icon of the Triforce glittered in the gloomy darkness of the hall, and she watched her father stir there on that throne, one which commanded all the land, and even realms beyond the void common folk understood to be insuperable.
"You have grown beautiful," he said, "and your golden hair now flows freely and long to your waist as a shining symbol of your heritage. The day of your womanhood is come; and the illustrious blood of Hyrule, that which runs through your very veins, must continue onward! Before these days of mine are over, I will see to it you are wed; and our line established to continue for another age, indescribably long as that is."
"But my heart is blackened," said the young Princess Zelda.
"Yes," answered he, "I know."
"And a black heart," the young princess said, "knows not love or companionship. It is so, and there is nought you can do."
"Even so," said her father.
"Father, my king," said Zelda. "Whatever you bid me do will fall to ruin. I durst not consent to such a union, for my black heart cannot be mended."
And her father asked: "Does the boy still fill your dreams of late: he who was blessed by the Golden Power?"
"Yes," answered she, "each starless night I close these eyes of mine. But they are not visions of the future."
"What then are they?" asked the king.
"Just dreams," said Zelda. "Dreams of a blackened heart."
Unbidden thoughts of him came to her then, charged from her dark heart and made yearnful by the fantasies of her hero who had been born from dreams. She recalled that momentous day, there in the castle courtyard, when he had come before her unexpectedly. The boy had startled her, but there on his young face, she saw his heavy golden brow; and saw the weariness of his gaze and wisdom of manifold years beyond his age. And there on his left hand, shining and golden, was a magical rune: one which her family had worshipped since the birth of their kingdom. He was the hero of her many visions: her dreams and nightmares of a future ruined. His name was Link, and her black heart would never forget such a thing.
He was something wondrous to her. As the princess of a magical line herself, she understood the boy had been sent by the goddesses; to capture and hold her heart, and to rescue her kingdom from the very clutches of evil. But just as soon as he had ridden into her life, ever did she find him riding away, wordless as to where his travels would take him. And thenceforth, there seemed to the princess an uncanny feeling: a festering hole in her chest, one which nought but one could fill.
"Your people demand the eminent line of our family continue to rule over them. They have chosen wisely," the old king said, "and as my only daughter, my only child, you must be the one to see it to continuation. Follow the ancient custom and wed a lesser lord from another realm. There are suitors elsewhere; many will come, even to sail across the sea, just so they might bear your gentle hand in their own. Whither it will lead you, to happiness or despair, that I cannot say for certain. But as my daughter, the Princess of Hyrule; as a future sovereign over this golden land, one which houses the great secret, your established duty must take precedence! So thus have I spoken!"
And from his wrinkled finger, he removed one of the many jewelled rings about him and gave it to his daughter, saying: "This golden ring was once kept by your mother: one which she bore before her ill-timed death. It is no mundane thing; let you wear it, and let it safeguard you as it once did her. For when I am dead and gone, there will be nothing to protect you now the Golden Power is shattered."
And the young princess took it though she knew that no such trinket could avail her.
Near the Castle of Hyrule there was a vast garden, where the expansive lawns were neatly trimmed, and bountiful shrubs cut to be square shapes as an art. She had been dwelling in these gardens as of late, half-expecting, half-hoping that something unexpected might occur there. But she loved these gardens, with their striking, marbled fountains shining beneath the pale moon and stars above: their glittering, sprinkling waters unending like the turning cogs of time. She neither prayed here, nor dreamed. Rather, it was the place where she yearned for the boy from the forbidden woods. She walked these pathways daily now, cloaked in a dark robe, her golden hair hidden by a sable-coloured hood. And she was not to be disturbed here: the surrounding perimeter was under the heaviest guard of the castle premises. And yet if an unwelcomed guest did disturb her, they would be greeted by an uncaring gaze, a withered shape powered by a black heart; something haunting to look upon even.
It was scarcely dark in the garden when she had left the Castle of Hyrule, but now the threat of darkness was full upon her, and the stars were bright and the waxing moon was already deep in its turning arch of a cycle. The clouds were grey, brightened by the natural light of the darkened sky. And alone she roamed these gardens like that, underneath starlight and moonlight, whither not but her dampened thoughts and memories of a boy lost pervaded her mind. And though it was calamity to persist as such, as her wise father forewarned. Though it was folly to yearn for a boy of her dreams, yet her blackened heart could do little but this: seeing in her mind the bluest of his eyes, wondering of his own feelings—whether his true and valiant heart held something more for her, what mortal could know?—in her prayers she besought an answer, but indeed she knew there in front of the castle gates, the fateful day he bid her farewell; and as she held his solemn gaze and he her own, there was an answer there to this question, one her young age of nine years knew not herself able to ask.
Nobody can tell you about one's heart more than the eyes; and his glassy blue eyes were a portal to his soul, and words need not speak of it any more than what is said there. To look into them was to hear a new song, or to read a long, bewitching form of poetry, spoken deeply from the centre of his being. Enough that it was once the moment she dreamt of nightly. She recalled a night whence she lay in bed. A strange, pale-blue light filled her bedchambers through the tall windows; and she could see him there, gazing back at her: his eyes resolute and unwavering, the shield she had gifted him personally was strong across his back. His sword, sheathed, but ready to be drawn. He was a warrior apart, with the strength of those thrice his age; and he bore in his courageous heart the daring of a hundred men of the guard. That was the boy from the woods beyond; her hero who she yearned so greatly for.
And now with this thought on her mind, she was pulled back to the living world of the gardens by the rustling of bushes, just off the pathways she was familiar to. It was much later now, with evenfall laying deep and heavy across the horizon. The dwindling moon had passed further, dimming the skies and the lawns of the garden. But the luminous barrier of the stars still shone her way as she found herself gazing toward the queer bushes. These bushes do not move in such ways, so it was the strangeness of this which put her on guard.
"What manner of creature lurks in such bushes," asked Zelda, "in this place, of all places?"
And as she had said this, the shrubs again shook as something large scampered through them. The twilight showed this quite clear, which made the princess step backwards with fright. She had not expected that.
Night was advancing now, and the moon and stars had seemingly vanished, the air growing black like the cloak she wore now. She bundled her hood up around herself nervously, and then listened in silence as the bushes stilled again. She heard nought but the fountains in the distance, and the call of one or two owls.
She found herself afraid of the dark now. Of the unknown. Her voice reflected this.
"Venerable creature," said the princess, "I mean you no harm. I will be retiring now."
And with these stammering words, she turned on the heel of her travelling boots and began walking back from whence she came. And from these footsteps, the bushes on her left shook fervently again, as if trailing her retreat. With this, her brisk walk hastened quickly into a scamper as she made her way through and down the stone pathway. Passing the fountains now, she neared the courtyard which led back into the castle grounds and behind the safety of stone walls. After all, fear had overtaken curiosity, and she did not care to learn of what made her garden its new home.
Presently, as she neared the stairs to the courtyard, the frightening rustling of the bushes grew even louder. This stopped her tracks, and she turned her gaze to the left. And as Zelda looked there, she saw an odd, misshapen, and fantastical-looking creature. It queerly reflected some manner of tree, as if its skin had been cut and its body shaped from a shade of bark. They looked at each other with large, round eyes, although the creature's appeared sullen she thought.
"Hullo," said the creature.
"Hullo, venerable creature," said the princess.
The creature was speaking her language, she knew that almost immediately; but it was distorted in an eerie way, almost as if the creature had been weeping beforehand. But the creature knew the language of her people; she thought it preferrable to be polite. Their language was spoken all throughout the land, of course, for there were few languages, and her people and those beyond their borders used the same.
"What are you?" asked Zelda.
"A deku of the woods," answered the deku.
"I have heard stories of your kind," the princess replied.
"Have you?" the deku asked. "I hope it was things of good nature."
"Yes," answered Zelda, "but I must be going now. Fare-thee-well, deku of the woods."
"Whither?" asked the deku.
"To the castle," the princess replied.
"May I come with you?" said the deku.
"N-no," answered Zelda.
"The night brings the cold," said the deku child, "and there are no flowers here for me to burrow."
The princess thought for awhile. It was true. The threat of darkness had brought the cold air with it, and one ought to become ill if exposed to such harshness for a time. She thought awhile of what she might be able to do with this strange deku, and then of her own home. She wondered of what her father might think if she allowed this creature stay in her bedchambers.
"N-no," said the princess.
"I pray you, I will be not a bother," said the deku.
"My father will not be pleased. I should be on my way," said the princess. And she walked on gravely home. Had it not been for the threat of her father, she might have allowed the deku stay in the castle where things were warm and cosy.
When she found herself traversing the hallways lit by flickering flame, she thought of the deku again. He had appeared young, perhaps even a child. She recalled the strange shape of his eyes, and how sombre they seemed. They were sad eyes: a reflection of her own heart, and the night itself. Where had he come from she thought? Or did he have kith and kin to call his own? As dusk drew in she crept into her bed, and hugged one of the several pillows strewn about tight to her chest. To-night, she did not dream of the boy from the forest; rather, she dreamt of the deku child and how she had left him naked in the cold beneath the starless night sky.