Hello, if you're here wondering "Who is this person and why did I follow them again?" Then you're not the only one. Four years is a long time of inactivity, but I typed this up one afternoon that I happened to have inspiration, time, and energy (a rare combo these days) and was saving it for a bit of Halloween nostalgia, but didn't end up following through. For reference, I think I typed this out the summer after TOTK came out and I just kinda forgot about it. Oops.
I feel I should add a disclaimer. We didn't have Majora's Mask or a 64 growing up. And I don't have the time or budget for a Switch, or a copy of BOTW or TOTK. I don't even have a TV in my apartment anymore.
Still, I enjoyed Letsplay series of the games. I pick up things and what I don't know, I supplement with wiki research, cutscene uploads on youtube, fan content, and fan theories. It's not perfect, so forgive me if it's not all lore-accurate or canon.
And in the end, I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it too. Happy Halloween!
-Crow
"Argh!"
Link grunted as another stab of pain shot up from the Lizalfo arrow puncture wound in his calf. Of all the oozing wounds and throbbing bruises, that one was the one bothering him the most. Though, the fact that the other wounds began to feel numb was probably more concerning.
It was rotten luck, plain and simple. What seemed like a small camp of Bokoblins in the middle of a grassy field quickly spiraled out of control as a couple Lizalfos caught on to the disturbance and decided the join in (hence the arrows). Then, one of the Bokoblins decided to throw a barrel of explosives from their hoard of ambushed travellers' supplies. Naturally, the whole thing exploded, destroying the camp, most of the monsters, and sending Link flying right into the belly of the beast (or rather, onto the belly of a sleeping Hinox at the bottom of a hill).
Not expecting the onslaught, Link's weapons and shields were practically splinters. He barely managed to avoid getting flattened by the Hinox club several times before downing it with some well-aimed arrows.
And to add insult to injury, the blast didn't take care of all of the Bokoblins and Lizalfos. Cowering behind a couple rocks, they took their chance to ambush him when the bigger foe was dead and their target was exhausted. Suffice to say, he survived the encounter, if barely, but he'd drained his last potion midway through the fight and the area was surprisingly sparse on edible mushrooms, herbs, or wildlife.
He stumbled again, jostling the injuries which decided to remind him of their presence with a fiery passion.
He leaned against a particularly large boulder, mindfully taking some shallow breaths as he pressed against a particularly unpleasant Lizalfo slash in his side.
Taking stock, he began to plan. The nearest town he knew of was pretty far. Same with stables. He could use the Purah Pad to warp away somewhere, but doing that always left him lightheaded and with the amount of blood lost along with the fact that night was rapidly approaching, he'd keep it as a last resort rather than accidentally warp away to some random Shrine in a cave or mountaintop and pass out.
His best bet, was to carefully sneak across the fields to find a plant he could use as an impromptu wrap around his wounds to better staunch the bleeding. Maybe finding some fruit or herbs to cook up something to eat and regain his strength.
A plan in mind, he awkwardly stood and began an agonizingly slow pace towards a pillar of smoke in the distance he could only hope was a stable or town (and probably not one of those alarmingly-frequent Korok smoke-signals).
He made it over several hills before he stumbled again, rolling down the slope and aggravating his wounds.
Growling in frustration and pain, he lay there a moment before struggling to sit up without the world swimming slightly.
"Oh dear."
Heart racing, he grabbed one of his last weapons, a dull Traveler's Sword he picked up in the Bokoblin camp during the fight, and held it up in the direction of the unheard visitor. He hoped the fact that this sword was also obviously on its last legs wouldn't be noticed in the approaching twilight.
Just at the end of the pointed blade stood a man. A tall, thin man with a rather outrageously purple outfit; from his tunic to his pants to his coat to the slipper-like shoes with a large, whimsical curl at the toe. He was hunched from the weight of a massive pack strapped to his back. Unfazed by the weapon just inches from his neck, the stranger's unsettling grin widened.
"You look to have met something rather terrible."
Link finished wrapping the bandage around the last severe wound. Some bandages were already spotty with blood, but the oozing stopped with the constant compression and gauze.
He looked up to the strange man and with signed a simple 'Thank-you'.
"Oh, no trouble, no trouble at all!" The man exclaimed from beside the fire. His grin was unchanged, though his hunch was still evident even with his enormous pack set to the side of the log he sat on.
After their encounter in the field, the stranger invited Link to his campsite just atop the next hill over. Link was surprised to find the campsite already mostly set up. A campfire crackled in place with a cooking stand set over the flames, which cast a comforting glow under a sprawling, old tree. The tree was vast, and the only landmark in this area of the meadow, leaving Link wondering how he'd missed it.
The man had immediately set down his pack and reached in it to hand the wounded swordsman a roll of bandages and gauze along with a bottle of a simple salve. Link had offered to pay with some of the rupees he had on hand, but the man insisted they were free. 'Consider it an exchange for some company this fine night. Wouldn't do having a companion bleed out and die beside me! Oh-hohoho!'
As Link set about tending his injuries, while the stranger began unpacking some salted meats and bundled vegetables to cook over the fire. Link kept an eye on his movements the entire time, watchful for any signs of poison or tampering. The stranger would notice his intent gaze and merely chuckle as he continued stirring the pot and adding ingredients.
Admittedly, Link really hoped it wasn't poisoned. His mouth watered at the savory aroma of wild meat, hearty mushrooms, and crisp vegetables sautéing in the pan.
He wordlessly held out the remaining bandages and salve to the stranger, but the grinning man waved him off, "Nonsense, as I said, they are yours."
Link nodded gratefully and placed them in his own pack. They sat in silence aside from the spatter of the cooking food or the crackle of fire. Eventually, the man gave a happy little hum.
"Looks like it's finally done!" he exclaimed, pulling out two bowls from seemingly nowhere in swift, jerky, energetic motions. He ladled a portion of stew in each and offered one to Link. The swordsman waited until the other man was halfway through his own bowl before trying it.
It was good, without the telltale bitterness or cloying sweetness of any poisons he recognized. He happily began munching through his bowl, sheepishly slowing down when he realized he'd already finished two bowls while the stranger hadn't touched his after the first half. The man simply continued to grin and offered another ladleful.
His wounds dressed and his stomach full, Link was grateful to the stranger. Though, despite the man's kindness, he remained wary. Could it be a trap? Some absurdly-convoluted plot to heal him from grievous wounds, feed him unpoisoned food, then strike when he least expected it? It wouldn't be the first time, or the most ludicrous (the All-Seeing-Cucco came to mind). The bandages were good quality, the food was great, and the man had done nothing at all that wouldn't be interpreted as the signs of a good host, but something about them still unsettled him. Maybe it was the grin or the fact that Link was pretty sure he hadn't opened his eyes once since they'd met.
He scanned the surroundings of the campsite, carefully searching for seals, weapons, bananas, or other telltale signs of Yiga assassins.
All that the stranger had was his enormous pack adorned with a variety of masks whose eyeless sockets held unsettling shadows in the campfire's flickering glow.
"Hm-hm-hm"
Link flinched at the high-pitched, amused chuckle hummed by the stranger. "I'm not surprised by your suspicion."
Link had the grace to wince, feeling rude to the other man, but the stranger continued to grin widely and made a grand, jerky sweep of his arm as if brushing the matter away. "No matter, no matter, I assure you I take no offense! I suppose it is unavoidable to be suspicious of people on the road. Particularly after having to deal with those pesky nuisances whose obsession with bananas is rivaled only by that with their buffoon of a leader." His grin changed briefly to an almost annoyed smirk before returning, broad and toothy.
"Rest assured, hero, I am merely a humble, travelling salesman of magnificent and curious masks," In one motion, the man leapt to his feet, and bowed in a grand, low sweep.
Link straightened, a little surprised at being recognized. Albeit, he ought to be recognized after the whole Calamity issue or being at Zelda's side so often, but aside from close friends, many people didn't seem to realize they were talking about the hero in front of said hero most of the time.
'You, know, me?' he signed.
"Oh yes," The salesman nodded. "I have heard many names in my travels. Suffice to say, Link does suit you. But I shall continue to call you 'friend'. A man, a myth, a legend, you could go by a thousand names; Toshio, Joshua, Kotaro, Bartholomew, or perhaps even Slurmp or Loafus! Oh-hohoho!" He cackled delightedly at his own joke.
Link blinked, unsure what to make of the man. Particularly the names he suggested. Half of those sounded entirely made-up. Especially that 'Josh-yew-wah' one.
"Still, I am happy to have found you, my friend! It's particularly interesting as I was only passing through here briefly." The man hummed thoughtfully. "I am fond of reminding people that upon a meeting, a parting is inevitable. Whether that parting lasts or not depends on them and the wheels of chance, turning like clockwork. So, I suppose it is fate that we have met today, even if for only a short while!"
Link hummed in agreement as the man settled back onto his seat.
"Tell me, friend, do you believe in fate?"
The swordsman furrowed his brows and tilted his head in an unspoken question.
"Not the notion of a preordained path," the man waved an arm in a spastic impression of dismissal. "Our actions, inactions, and much more all tangle together to weave that particular tapestry. For instance, you could have died in that meadow. Perhaps, you should have died there… Preordained or not to defeat some evil beast, an unfortunate encounter is enough to end a destiny prematurely."
Link gulped at the chilling grin maintained as he said that. Then the man reared back with a delighted clap of his hands, "But that is not the case, is it? You are here and alive! Not a pile of gnawed hero-bones by a fiery roasting spit or a smear on a giant's club!"
A hesitant nod was all Link could think of responding with to that.
"But back to my original question," The salesman continued. "Do you believe in fate? The notion that someone is put on this world to accomplish something, to be present for a particular event, or perhaps for a particular person?
"I don't put much stock in that romanticized notion of soul-mates," The man continued. "But do you ever feel that there are people you were simply… meant to meet?" He trailed off with an even wider grin.
Link paused in consideration. He'd already been through enough waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection, restoring lost memories, and discovering a lot of friends and comrades who'd either passed away or became much older (or younger in Purah's case) in the 100 years of the Calamity. The uncanniness was understandable, but even then, something resonated with what the man said.
The way he'd look at Impa before the Calamity and sometimes not recognize her as the woman beside Zelda for so many years. Or how whenever he shopped with Beedle the travelling salesman, he had a strong sense of déjà vu.
Or how a chestnut brown horse with a blonde mane fearlessly trotted up to him one afternoon in Hyrule Field. He didn't need to tame it, or bribe it with treats, the horse simply stood there and allowed herself to be taken to a stable. He had yet to decide on a name for her, but it was always cloyingly at the tip of his tongue.
Or how the Master Sword, before it shattered, used to always feel like a comfortable grip, even when he first held it.
And this Ganondorf the Demon King. Every time he glimpsed the past through those mysterious drops of water in the geoglyphs, seeing the man's grayish skin, flaming hair, and craggy face seemed… unsettlingly familiar.
Even this salesman seemed unnervingly familiar in a way.
And Zelda…
Link gave the salesman a forced shrug and a 'so-so' hand-wobble.
"Hm-hm-hm," The man chuckled. "I thought you might. Perhaps those very meetings and partings were fate at work! Who's to say?
"Perhaps you were always meant to slay the monsters, save the princess, and be the hero. Perhaps, had you failed and the kingdom fell, some other destiny would eventually rear itself forth. Pitting you in another life to face that evil again, and again, and again.
"The world is littered with choices! Some big, some small, some that only seem small, and some that only seem big," The man continued, his manic, abrupt movements suddenly gone as he became very, very still.
"Though, perhaps, it's not always the case. Perhaps it is simply in your nature to help. Even when someone is simply lost in the woods, or stuck down a hole.
"Or missing something precious.
"You can't help but to help, because a hero is needed. Round and round, like the turning of a clock's gears, we must make the most of today, because tomorrow may not be a given."
He trailed off, letting the clearing be enveloped in silence aside from the faint crackle of burning wood. The man's closed-eye gaze wandered up to the night sky around them and Link followed.
The stars were dimmed by the brightness of a full moon. The last Blood Moon had passed a while ago, so there was no danger of that tonight. But the moon shone so brightly, that the sky might as well have been black velvet.
He was brought out of his thoughts to the sound of quiet humming from the stranger across from him. The salesman paused his tune as his he noticed his guest's attention.
"Oh, pardon, it's an odd habit of mine, you see. I'm not used to company, so I tend to entertain myself to break the silence with music. Do you mind?"
Link shook his head and the man continued his wordless, simple tune.
Link didn't recognize it as any traditional Hylian folk song, though he couldn't say he'd never heard it either. The tune felt familiar, comforting and at the same time unsettling. Like a lullaby sung through a long-forgotten nightmare.
Link chose to let his gaze wander to keep his mind off of the unsettling music.
In the firelight, the darkness seemed deeper just beyond their small campfire. The light of the fire likely just drowned out the silvery glow of the moonlight cast over the kingdom around them, but it felt like if he stepped out of the little ring of light, he'd fall into a void. Like nothing existed except the small patch of grassy meadow illuminated by the orange glow, the tree, the mysterious salesman, and the moon floating above it all.
Across his seat by the fire, the flickering glow played tricks on the dancing shadows within the dark recesses of the masks on the man's pack. For a man with such an ever-present grin and a happy disposition, his masks failed to capture that. Each mask either had a resigned frown, a wicked leer, or a fierce scowl.
"I've always loved masks."
Link was brought out of his thoughts by the man's quiet comment. The man had stopped his humming and now turned his head towards his pack and cargo of wooden faces.
"They capture something that nothing else can quite match up to. No painting or sculpture can quite compare to a mask, no matter how crudely made that mask may be. It seems to capture the essence of the figure itself.
"And some masks, perhaps, grant the user a small part of that figure's fate…"
Link looked to the man in silent questioning.
"Oh-hohoho! Nothing insidious, friend!" The salesman chortled. "I mean isn't that what masks are used for? For fun and frolicking at festivals, to immerse a theater player in their role, as a sign of belonging to a group, as a disguise?
"All to serve the purpose of allowing the wearer to not be themselves. If only for a little while."
A particular mask of a terrified, pale visage with a gaping mouth wailed soundlessly at Link. The shadows across each crevice and carving line made it seem like a face full of muscles twitching and writhing.
"To simply set a mask over your face and hide from fate. Or take on the fate of another. Like a cowardly stage actor becoming the fearless hero for a scene or two."
A fleshy-looking mask with a forlorn frown gazed back. In the dim, uneven light, the telltale signs of carving edges and eye holes seemed to fade into something unnervingly lifelike. Its bottom lip appeared to quiver as if on the edge of sobbing.
"Haven't you ever wondered what could have happened had you never picked up the sword?" The man continued, now turned towards Link fully.
"Had you simply… woken up one day, wandered aimlessly into a village where no one knew who you were, and began a quiet life on a ranch or a farm? Meeting some village girl and settling down? Content to be as much a bystander as anyone else in the Calamity, surviving each day as it comes and running when the monsters come knocking."
Link was unsettled. Admittedly, he had thought of it. Back then when he first awoke from the Shrine, if the ghost of King Rhoam hadn't met him, would he have done just that? Wandered aimlessly into the first town he came across with few people alive to recognize him and only vague memories of his life before? Could he have become a farmhand, a hunter, a husband, a shopkeeper? The choices seemed endless and yet…
"But that isn't you, is it?" the man interrupted the brief silence. "You must help those who need it because who else will?
"You step up to the plate when lives are on the line, you will boldly go forth to retrieve a child's lost toy, you fearlessly fetch any tedious item demanded of you. And yet, is it all your doing?"
A mask with a wicked and wide smile sneered up from the pack. The shadows between its teeth widening and waning, making it look like mocking laughter.
"Who is to say there aren't strings on all of us?
"But to be certain, there are many strings to you."
The man's eyes opened. Just a sliver. Enough for the swordsman to be chilled by the gray eyes peering beneath.
"You are the hero, your destiny is both unbound and unrestrained, and yet more caged than anyone else's."
Link shook his head fiercely with indignant denial!
"Oh-hohoho, I apologize, friend! I'm afraid I ran away with the hypothetical." The salesman's eyes vanished again into his perpetual grin.
"Still, I suppose it is for the best. After all, you are here today because of your actions, and Hyrule still stands because of those same actions."
To the side, a mask with a menacing snarl leered at Link from its hook on the pack, the flame's flickering light making its teeth gnash.
"We are all of us free.
"Free to roam, to belong, to discover, and to be. And yet bound in the chains of obligation, duty, responsibility, and fate.
"Isn't that right, hero?"
Link looked up at the man to deny- but his heart leapt to his throat. Ignoring still-tender injuries, he deftly rose to his feet and hefted his sword towards the man in a hasty defensive stance.
Behind the salesman were a multitude of figures he hadn't seen or heard approach. In the darkness behind him, he could make out many figures barely visible. A frightening pig-like snout. A yellow, fox creature. A young child with flowing, purple hair.
Just beside the salesman, stood a few close enough to make out in complete detail.
A rotund, rocky figure that was recognizable as a Goron. A slender, pale-blue figure that looked like a Zora, or perhaps a Rito with a strange tail on its head? A strange, childlike figure like a sad wooden korok with an otorok-like mouth.
And towering above them all, a terrifying mirror of his own face detailed in strange red and blue markings, with silver hair and colorless, glowing eyes.
"Whether we like it or not, the fates of many others influence our own." The salesman continued, either ignorant to the figures or pretending they weren't there.
A snapping branch beside the tree had Link glance towards it, ready to swing.
In the deep shadows of the tree, a small, crouched child-like figure peered from just behind the trunk. Their face was too hidden to make out aside from a wide pair of perfectly-round yellow eyes that stared intensely back with burning malice.
"Such is the way of life, hm?"
Around them in the void beyond the island of light, Link became aware of the rhythmic clunk of a machine that echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Like a set of massive gears ticking ominously within an enormous clock.
The void erupted with the echoing peal of bells, growing faster and faster by the second. Each frantic knell sent a shiver through him and a deep sense of dread in his heart.
"Ah," he murmured, entirely audible despite the din of the bells. "It seems our fated time is ended. Once again, as with each meeting, a parting must follow."
The salesman stood, his pack swung back on his hunched shoulders and his toothy grin wide.
"Until we reach the end of that final day, and meet once again."
The man's eyes opened.
They trailed up to the darkness above.
Link's followed.
The looming moon looked wrong-
"Hyahhhh-ugh!"
Link's limbs flailed as he felt himself falling and knocking the wind out of him. He briefly scrambled on the ground, heart thumping and alert to any threat as a hand swiped drops of sweat away from his eyes. It took a moment to reorient himself to the blinding light around him and the lack of immediate danger.
The world began to fade back into focus around him and he realized he was at the top of the hill in the vast meadowy grassland. The sky above was pale blue with the yellowish tint of early morning sunlight and the bright chirp of birdsong. The fire was just a pile of long-extinguished, cold coals and ash.
Fully taking stock, he noticed the cheery puffs of smoke from a stable clearly at the edge of the meadow. He could almost laugh at the coincidence of having been so close to shelter last night, and not seeing it in the darkness.
The ache in his back and the evidence behind him suggested the falling sensation was him rolling off of the log seat beside the fire.
He glanced towards the opposing side-
-and stared at the empty hill.
There was an empty expanse of the clearing. There was no tree, and from the unimpeded view, likely never was one. Especially one that sprawling.
There was no adjoining log on the other side of the ashes. No indents of a log or flattened grass from a rolled-out mat or a heavy pack. Had… had it all just been a hazy delusion from blood loss? Had he somehow found this place or set a fire and simply… fallen asleep to unsettling nightmares? There was nothing to suggest anything else. No evidence that there ever was a second person on that hill last night. Nothing except-
His eyes trailed down to his body. The wounds he'd sustained from the fight yesterday were still there, and they were now wrapped in the bandages and gauze gifted to him by the stranger.
By that strange, unflappably-happy mask salesman.
The swordsman pushed the thought of that unsettling man aside as he began ensuring his belongings weren't stolen in the night or left at the campsite and made his way towards the welcoming sight of the stable.
He glanced back at the hilltop. The only evidence of a campsite remaining was the lonely log and the scorch mark that would easily be overtaken by the meadow in due time. As the sun rose across Hyrule, Link turned back towards the stable and made the steady march to his destination.
Though, the entire time, he felt the dregs of something fading in the back of his mind. The echo of a two-toned bell. The man's eerie chuckle.
And the whispers of that strange tune the man hummed, drifting from hazy memories and fading into a forgotten past for a terrible fate that never was.
AN: Happy Halloween!
And with this, I return to my void.
-Crow