EPILOGUE: OF HEROES AND LEGENDS
The road back home had been the longest journey Link had ever taken. Over the past many months, no matter where he had gone, he had always had a companion. Even after Midna had left, he had journeyed into the city with Zelda, and he had left again in the company of Shad and Ashei. Now, his thoughts were all that kept him company, and they were sad and lonely thoughts even in his victory … even in his happiness and comfort.
He had delayed his leave from the Sacred Grove for some time after returning the Master Sword, but after a while he had accepted that he, too, needed to return home. He had left Shad in capable hands. “Wherever the road takes you, be safe,” Ashei had said in farewell, and he imagined that Shad had only vaguely been aware of his departure, as he had completely fallen into his work of discovering the forgotten wonders of the Temple of Time.
Link did not speed his way home, although he wanted to. Instead, he allowed Epona to take the journey at a steady trot, for he had asked too much of her during Hyrule’s reigning despair. He tried to empty his mind of all but the voice of the wind in the forest and the melody of his surroundings as the branches swayed and their leaves danced. Yet, with every ray of light there lay a vessel of shadow, and with it brought stinging memories.
“Did you think I’d disappeared?” came a giggle from his mind, as he looked into the shadows. Midna had mocked him then, returning him to Faron Woods after their first meeting inside Hyrule Castle. Back then he had hoped he would never have to see her again, but now, he searched the shadows, trying vainly to see her black figure and her single impish eye staring out at him. He remembered the first time she had risen from his shadow, how it had startled him. Even with the constant threats against his life, he would have given anything to relive his yesterdays, for every tomorrow was so hard to accept without Midna.
“None could return from it to the world of light,” she had once said of the Twilight Realm, and she had seemed so jealous then. “…forever doomed to live in the twilight, flitting in the half-light of dusk, mere shadows of Hyrule.”The memory made him wonder if she was happy once more in the Twilight, or if she was still envious and angry that she had been forced to live in such a dark, eerie place. He remembered, though, how she had described the Twilight upon the eve of their journey into her world … the night he had learned the truth about her heritage. “Some call our realm a world of shadows, but that makes it sound unpleasant…” she had said. “The twilight there holds a serene beauty.”Link had seen that for himself, and he had hoped to see and feel that beauty one more time. Now, that was impossible, and he vowed he would never lose those memories, never forget the warmth of the Twilight, nor the silken, shadowy beauty of his companion.
When he arrived home, it was in the dead of night, and no one was there waiting to welcome him home. He was thankful for that, thankful that the children had not dawdled around his house day and night waiting for his return. Now, he could settle back in in silence and in his own time.
He gazed up at his tree house and took in its dark silhouette. It looked lifeless, as if no one had lived here in years rather than only a few months. Its façade greeted him like an old friend, and he could almost see a face in its bark, welcoming him home from a life of adventure, but something seemed different. He had never trimmed the landscape around his home; he had always let nature live and grow in whatever ways it preferred, and so the grass and weeds surrounding his home had risen nearly to the porch before his door, and vines had begun to coil around the rungs of the meters-tall ladder that led up to it. Leaves that had blown free from their branches had collected on the rooftop and window panes.
Slowly, Link dismounted and led Epona over to her alcove. He removed the weights from her back and set the saddle and bundles down near her. As she nestled down for the night, the grass tickled her, but she found comfort in the warmth it provided. She snorted happily as Link patted down her mane and scratched her ear. Link bade her goodnight and headed up the ladder.
When he opened the door, its hinges creaked and echoed into the void of his hollowed home. Stepping tentatively inside, he had never realized how big it was, how the hollow tree made him feel equally as empty. It was … strange to feel so alien inside his own house, to feel like an outsider within the very walls he had helped carve. Moonlight poured in through the windows high above, and he left the door open as he moved forward. There was enough light for him to see that nothing had been touched since he had left. No one had even stopped by to tidy his house, for everyone knew that he preferred privacy and solitude.
Or did he?
Standing in the shadows in the night, he saw the items Colin had given him over the years, the paintings of Link, Ilia, Epona, and him. Link stepped up to the wall where they hung and ran his fingers over the face of Colin, a boy who had once been a timid little thing content with a simple, happy life … and then his fingers stopped on Ilia, his childhood friend. He moved his hand over the drawing next to it, an older drawing, one that pictured a very young Link with a very young Ilia and Fado. It was this drawing that Link had crafted himself ten years ago. Ilia … a girl he had long cared for, a girl he had known all his life.
He looked down at the table where he had set the other crafts Colin had made. There were wooden dolls dressed like Link and Colin and Rusl; a small ocarina that, though it was a good attempt, had never really been able to carry a decent tune; and his fishing rod. Link realized he was leaning against the wall, fingers still covering the picture he had drawn as a child. Seeing Ilia’s young face reminded him of something she had said.
“…something I wanted to give you before you left on your journey.”
Link opened one of the pouches hanging from his belt and pulled out the horseshoe charm Ilia had made for him. He remembered the way Ilia had sobbed into his shoulder, the way he had held her tight and promised, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”He would always be her friend, the confidant to her every tear, but there was another vow he had made, and it pained him that he had broken it.
“Wherever it is you go, I will follow.”
His promise had shattered with a single tear. Midna had left in an explosion of light and shadow, departing from his world as quickly as she had giggled into it. He had been mesmerized by her transformation, and he remembered reaching out to touch the smoothness of her glossy new face, only for his fingers--just inches from her skin--to fall away from the weight of his pain as he had fallen into numb oblivion.
Link unstrapped his scabbard and laid it down on a table next to the one before him. He looked from the hilt of the Ordon sword, once more sheathed in the hero’s scabbard, to the fishing rod.
Two separate worlds … colliding all this time to produce his greatest challenge yet. The choice everyone had faced when Ganondorf had been defeated: the choice of how to move on, how to live. And he realized it was not a choice of which friend was more important, whom he would defend with his last breath. It was a choice of staying put or moving on, living in constant isolation and peace or taking to the wonder and unpredictability of adventure.
He could choose the wood, or he could choose the road. He did not have to abandon one to accept the other. If he left he would always have a home to return to, and if he stayed, the horizon would be there to greet him the next day … and upon every morrow.
But what if he suffered a permanent injury if he stayed, an injury that prevented him from traveling, or if he settled down and had a family and his responsibilities as a husband and father prohibited him from leaving their side?
Yet, if he left, what if he got lost and could not find his way home? What if he took to the road and enjoyed it so much that he forgot about his friends he had left behind?
He unsheathed the Ordon sword, stepped back and twirled it in his hand before looking into its surface. The solution was right before him, his answer in the glimmer of the steel. With this sword he would carry every memory with him. If he stayed he would always remember his journey with Midna, and if he left he would always have it to remind him where he came from.
Still, he could not choose. After bringing peace to Hyrule, he had seen happiness return to every denizen of Hyrule. Which choice would bring him happiness? Protecting Hyrule had never been a choice; it had been an obligation he had felt to his very core, but now … now it was he who could decide where his road led.
“Some say … he went on to live out his days in Hyrule Castle as a knight. Others believe he settled down, had a family; others still, say that he left Hyrule, in search of adventure, never to return to his birth land.”Link remembered the words of Auru on the night he had asked the fate of the hero of old and wondered if it had been just as impossible for him to decide.
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Link had not found much sleep that night, and when the first signs of dawn broke through his window, he decided to seek counsel from the only man he thought might understand his plight. Carefully, he traversed back down the ladders from his bed and slipped into his tunic and boots. He tried to leave the house without his sword, but he felt too light without it and ended up going back for it.
He took the road at a steady pace, leaving Epona behind to rest from their travels. He needed time to prepare for the many faces he would encounter at any rate. When he arrived in the village, only the adults were awake and seeing to the chores of the day, and he stopped as each greeted and thanked him for the safe return of their children and to spend some time asking about his travels. Link was finding it easier since his journey with Shad to open up about a few of the details of the lands he had crossed and the wonders he had seen. No conversation lasted too long, however, for none wished to keep Link from his path and Link did not want to keep them from their chores. Everyone noticed the sling around his arm immediately and a kind “Get well” was everyone’s parting words.
When he had stopped to talk with Jaggle at the pumpkin patch, Link’s attention fell on the mayor’s house, and he considered diverting his intentions to see Bo and his daughter. Yet, with his decision still weighing in his mind and his heart still heavy, he could not bring himself to walk across the bridge.
Instead, Link continued on his course up the path toward Rusl and Uli’s house. He knocked and waited, the moment hanging uncomfortably until the door opened. The face of Rusl greeted him jovially. “Link! We didn’t know when to expect you!” he said, and Link knew he meant the entire village rather than only his family. “Come in. We’re about to eat. Hungry?”
Link had not expected so much pomp and circumstance, and it made him a little timid to enter. He had come with the intent to seek Rusl’s guidance, but with the household awake and together, it would have been rude to intervene. He had not eaten properly since visiting the bar in Castle Town, where Telma had been certain to force food down him before he dragged Shad and Ashei out on their adventure. Yet, he still did not have much of an appetite.
Just as he was about to kindly decline, he heard Uli from the back of the room, “Of course he is! Link, please, join us.”
After setting the table and wiping her hands on a cloth over her shoulder, she came to greet Link with her squinting smile. Her concern for Link’s appearance was well hidden, but Link could still see the worry in her eyes.
“Hey, Link!” came the bright call of Colin, leaping down from his seat and marching up to Link with a bundle in his hands. Link heard a strange suck of air and a light moan, and his hand immediately went to his sword as he took a step inside. Just as his eyes searched the room, Uli and Colin giggled as Rusl shut the door.
Rusl clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Link, though puzzled, relaxed. He nodded toward Colin, toward the bundle that he carried.
“Look, Link,” he said. “I’m a big brother now, too!”
Link realized he had not even paid attention to the size of Uli’s belly. Colin turned to the side, and then Link could see … a small babe, already with a full head of blond hair and two blue eyes staring up at him. A smile tugged at Link’s lips, and he could not refuse sharing a meal with the family that had taken him in as one of their own. His family.
There was much laughter to be heard around the breakfast table as the morning wore on, and Link could not remember a time when he had laughed so thoroughly and joyfully nor felt so at ease and at home. As he spent time with the people that had cared for him all his life, and whom he had given everything, he thought perhaps he had made up his mind. Later, as Uli tended to his wounds and changed his bandages, he listened to Colin’s tale about their trek through the fields and the woods and told him all about how he helped his mother care for his new sister, already a month old. And as Link listened, he remembered how life used to be, the simplicity of it, the natural order of things, how the highlight of the day could be something as simple as carving a pumpkin or chasing the chickens.
He felt absolutely and undeniably at home and entirely at peace.
“There.” Finished with her work, Uli wrapped Link’s gnarled and bruised wrist and fingers in fresh, thick bandages and returned his arm to its sling. “It’s healing well,” she said. The same thing she had said about his side wound when she had checked it. He still could not move his fingers, however, and he wondered if he had permanently lost the use of his hand.
Suddenly, Colin reappeared at his side after having cleared the table. “Dad and I made something for you,” he said, and Link remembered when the boy had made every other gift how it had been Uli to announce the gifts and prod her son into presenting them to Link. “Well, Dad did most the work. I just helped him paint it,” he corrected, as Rusl returned from having left the room some time ago. He carried something large and flat in his hands, and he set it down on the table.
Link stood and tentatively approached the table, a strange tingle creeping up his spine. He did not know what gift they could have possibly deemed so important, especially given its size. They did not need to present him with gifts, and just as Link was about to courteously refuse, Rusl urged him on. “Go ahead, Link. It’s all right.”
Still uncertain if he could accept their generosity, Link looked to Colin … finding his awestruck eyes impossible to refuse. Slowly, he lifted the folds of the fabric … and discovered a very familiar metallic sheen underneath.
A shield. His Hylian shield, the one Ganondorf had utterly destroyed.
Involuntarily, Link grabbed his right forearm, the sight of the shield spurring the pain he had felt from Ganondorf’s blow to rise once more. It looked as flawless as the day Renado had given it to him, like it had never seen battle, but Link knew better. He would have died countless times had it not been for this plate of steel before him.
Though Colin and Uli watched on with smiles, Rusl’s had slowly faded. When Link had gripped his arm at the sight of the shield, he knew what memory had triggered within Link’s mind. Rusl clenched his teeth, guilty at having caused him pain. His own memories of watching Link be beaten down again and again surfaced, and just as he was about to step in to comfort Link … Link’s hand fell and his fingers touched the crimson bird painted on the shield. Rusl realized he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled an anxious breath.
Link traced the spread of the bird’s wings and then ran his fingers across the embossed Triforce symbol above it. He did not know what to feel standing there, faced with a hero’s shield. Being back home, being with his family, he thought he had finally figured things out. He thought he might stay and return to his simple life in the woods. But the remnants of his time as Hyrule’s hero continued to crop up and would never really go away.
“I….” He looked up at Colin, and then locked eyes with Rusl. “Thank you,” said Link with a smile.
But Rusl knew he was pretending. Perhaps he truly was grateful that his shield had been fixed, but there was something wrong, something Link was not saying. Rusl did not have the chance to question him, however, for it was not long after that Link took his leave, Hylian shield once more resting against his back.
When Link left Rusl’s house, he had every intention of finally going to see Ilia, but once he stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the porch of her house, Link felt weighed down by the steel on his back. His brows furrowed in his confusion. Why could he not bring himself to enter? How could he just stand there? He pursed his lips, looking from the door to the dirt at his feet, and when he returned his gaze to the door, he let out a restless breath and turned away.
As he walked away, up the hill toward Fado’s ranch, his eyes were still heavy with confusion and … was it sorrow he felt? As if he knew he were walking these paths for the last time, saying goodbye to every rock and tree, everything and everyone. But how was it he felt like this? He had not decided his road yet.
At the ranch Link prayed he might find some solace, and when he came to the gate and saw the goats in the field and Fado near the stable, he leaned against the gate and watched, as if lost in some dream. Even through the excitement of his adventures, he had missed this, missed the free, open air of the ranch and the sound of the goats as they traipsed about and picked at the grass. Link could not believe what his eyes were telling him … that he had done what he had set out to do, that after everything … he had finally returned home.
Everyone was safe. Everyone was home.
Yet, he still felt … broken … incomplete…. No, those did not describe it, and he could not put his finger on it.
Just then he saw Fado waving in the distance and running toward him. Fado fumbled to open the gate, and when it creaked open, he flung his arms around Link tightly … and squeezed out a genuine laugh.
Though Link could not help in tending the goats, he still wanted to stay and help, thinking that perhaps returning to his routine might help ease his mind. As he worked, however, cleaning the stable and tossing down fresh hay into the pens, his mind wandered. He had finished with his chores before he had realized the passing of time, and when he stepped back out into the late afternoon sun, it was to find Fado herding the goats. Link leaned against the outside of the stable and watched his friend as he weaved this way and that on the back of the brown horse Fado had raised and Link had trained. Link had rarely ever seen Fado on horseback, but he knew that with his absence, Fado had finally been forced to take full responsibility of his ranch.
He doesn’t need me anymore, Link realized, and though the thought made him happy for his friend … there was a spark of sadness that crept into his smile.
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Lost in thought, Link paid little attention to his surroundings as he descended into the village again. His feet had guided him along these paths so many times, that his body mindlessly trudged on, but a soft gasp broke his step and his racing thoughts. Turning, his eyes met the emerald glow of Ilia.
Link’s mouth hung open, at a loss for words as he realized he had passed her house and taken one step across the small bridge. “Link…” breathed Ilia. She took slow, careful steps toward him, and Link did likewise. When they met, the silence hung awkwardly as Ilia’s eyes began to water. Link could see the worry etched in her face, the lines that had wrinkled her face in the weeks they had been apart.
“You’re back,” she said softly. She reached out, and when she touched his shoulder, proving to herself that he truly did stand before her, her breath caught through a sudden smile.
Her touch made Link’s heart beat faster, and he did not know what to say. He had been trying to figure out how to approach her ever since he had returned. There was so much to say, so much left unresolved between them, but so much that he did not know. Yet, seeing her now, feeling her….
Link kindly took her hand in his and smiled as he gently squeezed her fingers. He could see that she was expecting more, expecting him to say something, wanting him to assure her that he was back … back for good.
He knew what needed to be said, but he could not give her an answer yet. He did not know how best to tell her, and he hoped she would understand. He just needed a little more time.
At the door of her house, Link noticed Bo waddling out only to stop at the sight of Link and Ilia. He looked as though he might retreat to give them privacy, but Link released Ilia’s hand, nodded at the mayor, and turned back down the road.
Ilia watched him go, afraid that her worst fear was coming true … that she was losing Link.
Link’s chest felt tight, the kind of sick feeling that came from uncertainty and fear of the unknown, fear of making the tough decisions, fear of how it might affect those closest to him. His mood only slightly improved as he grew closer to the edge of the village, where he was met by the excited yelps of the children. Beth and Malo ran up to him, asking question after question about the Twili and his return trip. Talo had been standing atop Beth’s house trying to knock down another bee’s nest that had formed since their absence, but he halted immediately at the sight of Link and clumsily clambered down the side of the house.
“Link! Dad said you were back,” he said.
Link nodded.
“Will you play with us?” asked Malo all of a sudden.
But Beth snapped back before Link could answer. “Of course he can’t! Look at his arm, idiot!”
Link snorted a laugh, and while Malo and Beth continued to argue, Talo approached him … more timidly than ever, and he reminded him of how Colin used to be. “Uh, Link….” Talo stumbled over what he wanted to say, but Link understood, could hear the gratitude in his tone, and waited. His thanks came with the offering of the item in his hand, the item he had been playing with. “Here, I never gave this back to you.”
Talo opened his fist and presented Link with the slingshot he had made as a boy and the one he had loaned to Talo nearly a year ago.
“Keep it,” said Link, and Talo’s face lit up.
“Really?”
Link nodded, and watched as Talo ran around, yelling for Beth and his brother. Link watched for a little while as they played, but when he spotted Ilia’s house in the distance, his grin faded once more. He turned back down the path, continuing on his way out of the village and feeling more conflicted than he could ever remember.
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That evening, Link brought Epona to the spirit spring. Together, they bathed in the calming waters and washed away their aches, washed away the weariness. As they soaked in the water, Link’s defenses rinsed away layer after layer until he was at last just the boy of Ordon again. He let the worries of his journey finally trickle away and fade into the ripples of the spring. As he combed Epona’s wet mane, however, the deep reds and violets that braided with her hair turned Link’s attention to the setting sun, sky ablaze with the goddesses’ paints.
“…just look at the sky! Isn’t the black cloud of twilight looking beautiful today?” Link heard, but he knew he was only imagining the voice.
Suddenly solemn again, Link sat down in the water, and he could hear Epona do the same behind him. He looked up into the sky, wondering what Midna might be doing, if she was lost in her duties … or if perhaps she, too, were thinking of him.
“…is perpetual twilight really all that bad?” she had once asked Zelda, and Link thought that if every sunset were as beautiful as this … as warm and welcoming as the air of the Twilight Realm … he could have lived like this forever.
Link laid back into the water, and it pooled gently around his body. He closed his eyes, remembering the cool yet warm sensation of the Twilight, but then another memory sprung into his mind … one where he had woken to a completely new world in an eyeblink. King Bulblin and his cohorts had crashed into the spring and changed Link’s life forever. Link had splashed into the water, helpless to stop the king from taking his friends. Back then, fear had possessed him. Now, as he lay there, he could accept everything that had happened, and he even wondered where the great ogre had gone since the defeat of Ganondorf.
When he opened his eyes, a swirl of bright pink lights hovered around him. Surprised by the appearance of the light and thinking that perhaps the light spirit had come to speak with him, he jumped to his feet. Yet, this light was different. The little orbs floated all around, humming and whistling as they drew nearer and nearer. They sparkled like diamonds, and as one broke formation and flitted around his head, he realized that these were small sprites, fairies that lived in the forest and who were said to be very skittish around people.
Link reached out as if to greet the little creature, but it flew away, and as he spun around to watch as it soared around him, he felt a burning sensation flow through his right arm. The feeling spread into his chest and abdomen as the little sprites circled him, dusting his body with their purifying glitter. His body tickled and itched at the same time, and just as suddenly as they had come, the fairies zipped away, disappearing once more into the forest.
The tension in his body had lifted, the painful tightness in his arm rinsed away. First, he looked to his stomach, where he found only a scar, his crusted blood and stitches melted by the magic of the sprites. Tentatively, he unwrapped his arm and discovered that he could bend his fingers, every bone now perfectly reset. Looking beyond his hand, he spotted his reflection in the water … and he could barely recognize himself. The scars of his journey still remained, and each held a memory like Ashei said. Even the mark of the divine beast had remained, the symbol still faint but recognizable against his forehead.
But the worst scar lived within him. The mark Midna had left….
“Loneliness always pervades the hour of twilight,” came a voice, and Link turned to see Rusl watching him from the shadows.
Link bowed his head, remembering the evening Rusl had first spoken those words, a time when he had still been ignorant to the world … ignorant to loss. “Someone once told me … it’s the only time when our world connects with theirs,” said Link. He gazed upon his left hand and rubbed the scar he had received during his first night as the wolf, the first night he had met Midna. “The only time we can feel the lingering regrets … of those who have left us….”
Rusl knew exactly who he was thinking of and stepped closer. “You, Link, restored faith to the people of Hyrule. Don’t let your victory drain your hope.”
Hope.
His journey had always been about hope; it had seen him through. Hope he would find the children, Epona, and Ilia; that Princess Zelda could save Midna from death; that he would not meet the same fate as the Shade … hope that the people of Hyrule would not lose their dreams to a tyrant. Hope had kept him alive, and it would fuel his journey through life.
Finally, Link admitted what he had kept bottled inside ever since he had witnessed that strange, beautiful face vanish. “I will never see her again.” It hurt to finally say it out loud, to finally make it real. “I keep wondering why … but I think I knew all along … that it would end like this.”
“You can never lose hope, Link,” pressed Rusl, and Link wondered if he was simply consoling him or if he truly believed that. “Hope is what made all this possible.”
“…last potential link….”
By Midna’s testament, finding a way into the Twilight Realm would be impossible … but the goddesses had brought miracles to life countless times before.
“You’re leaving aren’t you?” Rusl finally asked, but he already knew the answer.
Link looked into his eyes, studying his mentor and hoping to find his answer there, but Link turned away with a sigh. “During my journey … I found out who I was…” he said, struggling to put words to the thoughts that had been spinning in his head for so long now. “So why do I feel…?” He huffed, angry until he was finally able to put a name to his feelings. “Now that I’m back, I’ve never felt so lost.”
Rusl could see every vulnerability in Link in that moment, every doubt and every worry he had ever had. He could see the pain and the happiness, could see his life written in his scars, and for once … he had no answer. “Link, I wish I could help you,” he said, “but my days of guiding you are over. I think you have to find your own way now.”
Lips pressed tightly together, Link looked toward the sky once more. Deep in thought, he did not hear Rusl take his leave. Drinking in the colors of the horizon, feeling the warmth of the setting sun, and remembering the round little face of a curious little creature … Link made his decision.
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That night, Link had found some peace in his sleep, and when he woke the next morning, he laid there a moment, breathing slowly. No matter what it meant, how it affected those around him, he had not changed his mind. It was time to get back to his life, and the way he spent his days was his choice. Like Rusl had said, he had to find his way, and as he lie there he realized … he had made up his mind a long time ago.
Link rolled out of bed and worked through the dawn to bring some order to his house, cleaning his small kitchen area, straightening his shelves and drawers, sweeping the dust from his floorboards. Once his house had been cleaned, he stepped outside to gather up the bundles he had left beside Epona. Before, he had not been able to carry them up due to his arm, but now the use of his fingers had been returned to him. He carried everything inside and unraveled the items on his table and floor. Sprawled before him were the things he had collected along his journey. There was his bow and empty quiver, the boomerang, his small lantern, an empty bomb bag, and the armor the late Queen Rutela had given him.
At first, he had thought to put some of these items away, but….
“If your father has taught me anything it is to always be prepared,” he remembered telling Colin once, and so he began reorganizing his things.
He did not know what he may need on the road ahead.
After packing for the road, bundling his items as well as packing a healthy amount of food for his journey, he donned the hero’s garments once more. He stuffed the empty bomb bag into one of the pouches and tightened the strap of his scabbard across his chest. He clasped the leather straps of his gauntlet and bracer over his right arm, and the tightness around his limb again felt good.
Once dressed, he descended into the basement of his house, which was dark even in the brightest days, but a single ray of light peeking in from the windows above was enough to guide him toward the single small chest he kept on the overstocked shelves. He had wrapped it in the small, torn blanket that he had worn when Rusl had found him as a babe, and inside of the little blue chest--ornamented with golden edges--was the single item Rusl had found on his person all those years ago. A beautifully woven coin purse--one that Link liked to think belonged to his mother--and inside was a single violet rupee, its value worth quite a bit in trade.
Link tied the strings of the purse around his belt, closed and wrapped the chest, and set it back down on the shelf. He started back for the stairs, but stopped mid-step when he saw a long, rectangular mirror resting in the corner. He stepped over to it, and when he looked into its reflection, the corner of it cracked, he remembered the morning Midna had left his side. Link stared at his reflection and saw the eyes of the feral beast looking back at him. He would never be the same, and yet he would always be Link….
He touched the symbol that had branded his forehead, and, instead of ruffling his bangs to hide it, he pushed his locks away. He saw the shadows of the basement surrounding him, and he smiled. Midna would never truly be gone. Link would see her, feel her, in every shadow.
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Arrows freshly crafted and Epona saddled, Link sat on a rock as he sharpened his blade. The rhythmic and rough chime that sounded each time whetstone and steel met numbed his senses, and he lost himself to his thoughts--trying to think of how to say goodbye to Ilia and the others. He realized how hard it must have been for Midna to leave everything she had come to care for. Once finished, though, he still did not have his answer. He wiped down his blade with a cloth and returned his sword to its sheath as he walked over to Epona, who stood just outside his house. Link tucked away the whetstone and then lifted bundles and blankets, strapping them behind her saddle. Just as he tied his lantern to dangle from the side with his food pack and waterskin, he noticed movement and looked up.
There stood Ilia, hands clasped at her waist as her eyes held back tears and a breath escaped through her open jaw.
Link bit his lip. This had not been how he had wanted Ilia to find out. He looked away for a moment, to gather his nerve. He did not want his emotions to get the better of him; he did not want her to think that this was goodbye. Goodbye was so final.
Ilia took slow steps toward him, and every footfall panged through Link like a fresh stab. Her eyes were watering with tears ready to fall when she at last stopped just a few feet away. She patted Epona’s mane, and it was as if it were many months ago as they stood in the spirit spring.
Link could not decide what to say; nothing seemed right. And Ilia did not want to accept what she saw, did not want to make it real.
But it was real.
“Ilia…” Link finally breathed, but the rest of his words escaped him, for with that single word he witnessed Ilia’s tears falling silently. Her lips quivered, and as her cheeks flushed and she swallowed a deep breath, he knew she was trying so hard not to fall to pieces in front of him.
“I thought…” she started, her tears strangling her voice. Her chin wavered under the quake of her lips, but she pressed on. “I thought we could settle back into our lives … start back where we’d left off.” She took a deep breath as she blinked and held her eyes closed for a moment. When she reopened them, fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she shook her head. “But we can’t … can we? Everything’s different now.” Finally, she looked at Link, looked at the boy she had known all her life and the man he had become. “You’re different.”
Link realized he had been clenching his jaw, perhaps in his attempt to hold back his own tears and swallow the emotions constricting his throat. He took a step forward as he said, “No. My name is Link. I am from Ordona.” He stepped closer with each sentence until he had closed the space between them. “And you are my best friend. No amount of time or distance will ever change that, Ilia.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted to know he would always think on her, but she could not be sure of anything anymore. Ilia collapsed into his arms, her grief overtaking her. “Please, I don’t want to say goodbye,” she pleaded into his chest.
Slowly, Link wrapped his arms tightly around her, just as he had done the day she had finally remembered his face and apologized endlessly. He closed his eyes and rested his chin against her head. He listened to her cries as a tear trickled down his cheek. She smelled so wonderful and fit perfectly within his arms, and he would miss her but….
“This isn’t goodbye,” he promised, and he lowered his cheek to rest against the side of her head. He whispered into her hair, “Never goodbye.” He pressed a light kiss into her hair and held her as she cried.
After a short while, Ilia sniffled and looked up at Link. “Can you at least promise me…. Just … come home” --she smiled softly-- “…one day?”
Link returned her grin and nodded. He took her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “One day.”
Ilia’s heart warmed at his promise, but then he stepped back and mounted Epona. When he urged Epona into a gallop, Ilia raced after him, suddenly afraid. She stopped at the corner of the clearing at the mouth of the path leading into Faron Woods. Holding her hands tightly together at her breast, watching as he quickly sped away and out of sight and into a world far away, she found herself crying again. She could hear the voice of Fado behind her, asking if she had seen Link, but she blocked him out, had to have these last moments with Link, as she watched his image fade away forever.
And she only hoped that one day he might honor his promise.
===============
As Link sped his way through Faron, he was surprised how the strands of his web of worry were quickly snapping and falling away. With each step his heart felt lighter and his spirits seemed to fly as he rode on. He would miss his home, miss his friends, but the world of Hyrule awaited his return. It had been waiting for him all these years.
He stopped when he reached the narrow path beyond the great wooden bridge. A long time ago, he had been dragged into a world of darkness right at this very spot. The pall of darkness that had plagued the lands had long since faded, but he could still remember every detail. In the days behind him he had had only one choice: fight and protect. Now, when he crossed through the wood and reached Hyrule field … there would be several paths from which to choose. He thought perhaps he could visit those he had met on his journey. He could visit the yetis in Snowpeak, or stop in at Zora’s Domain to finally introduce himself to their new sovereign, or perhaps he could return to the old sheikah woman.
Whatever his path, he would have friends that welcomed him or a fire to keep him warm, and as he rode toward every tomorrow, he would always have his yesterdays. He pulled out the ornament Ilia had given him. He would always belong to Ordon, just as he would always belong to Hyrule, and he would never forget his childhood friend as he kept the charm close to his heart. He would never say goodbye.
He thought of Midna then, thought of her giggle and of her curious little face.
She had never really left him. It was as if she was there with him now, hanging as nothing but shadow. “So, shall we go then?” she asked--just as she had beckoned him into the twilight covering Eldin.
“Yes,” he replied. He tucked away the charm and he threw Epona into a canter.
See you later, Link said to Midna, and he smiled, knowing that he would see her as often as he liked in his memories. He knew in his heart that she thought of him in the same way, but even through the sadness of their parting, he knew they had shared something special, something that would warm them even through their darkest days.
Link would see her smile and the sparkle of her red eyes every time the sun set over his world, every time their separate worlds intersected. Separate worlds, forever bound.
Now, it was time to ride into the horizon of tomorrow.
===============
Princess Zelda stepped through the ruined throne room, inching her way toward the giant velvet seat from which her father had once proudly ruled. The memory of Ganondorf’s reign was still fresh in her mind, and with the walls and ceiling destroyed in the tryant’s rage, she wondered how her hero had survived at all. She gazed up at the broken carving of the goddesses, headless bodies gathered in a circle around the Triforce … and she thanked them.
A castle was nothing more than stone, and the only thing running the length of its veins were cool drafts. She stood there, in the midst of the destruction, among the ruined stones of her home, and smiled.
It could have been worse. Ganondorf could have won. More could have died. Hyrule could have perished.
But none of these things had happened.
Auru came up behind her, and he asked gently, “Princess, what would you have us do?”
Zelda caught sight of something then, and bending over, she found the cloak she had given Link. She ran her fingers over its thick cloth as she looked over its sheikah designs. There beneath it were the ruined shards of the dark crystal Link had crushed, and she remembered the first time she had met Link, a curious animal with bright sapphire eyes. She smiled, remembering his kindness, his selflessness … and his reassuring grin.
It was thanks to him that her kingdom could shine once more.
She looked up at the carving again before turning away. “We will rebuild.”
Auru bowed as she left his side and she made her way back through the rubble to reach the balcony at the bottom of the stairs outside. She grasped the railing and looked out onto her kingdom, saw the lush greens and blues, heard the laughter even from this height, felt the wind as it tumbled through her hair and kissed her cheeks.
Zelda wondered if Link was out there somewhere, riding against the horizon. She did not know when she would see him again, be it tomorrow or in a year, but wherever he went and whatever he did, she knew she would always hear stories of him. Such was the nature of heroes and legends.
He had delayed his leave from the Sacred Grove for some time after returning the Master Sword, but after a while he had accepted that he, too, needed to return home. He had left Shad in capable hands. “Wherever the road takes you, be safe,” Ashei had said in farewell, and he imagined that Shad had only vaguely been aware of his departure, as he had completely fallen into his work of discovering the forgotten wonders of the Temple of Time.
Link did not speed his way home, although he wanted to. Instead, he allowed Epona to take the journey at a steady trot, for he had asked too much of her during Hyrule’s reigning despair. He tried to empty his mind of all but the voice of the wind in the forest and the melody of his surroundings as the branches swayed and their leaves danced. Yet, with every ray of light there lay a vessel of shadow, and with it brought stinging memories.
“Did you think I’d disappeared?” came a giggle from his mind, as he looked into the shadows. Midna had mocked him then, returning him to Faron Woods after their first meeting inside Hyrule Castle. Back then he had hoped he would never have to see her again, but now, he searched the shadows, trying vainly to see her black figure and her single impish eye staring out at him. He remembered the first time she had risen from his shadow, how it had startled him. Even with the constant threats against his life, he would have given anything to relive his yesterdays, for every tomorrow was so hard to accept without Midna.
“None could return from it to the world of light,” she had once said of the Twilight Realm, and she had seemed so jealous then. “…forever doomed to live in the twilight, flitting in the half-light of dusk, mere shadows of Hyrule.”The memory made him wonder if she was happy once more in the Twilight, or if she was still envious and angry that she had been forced to live in such a dark, eerie place. He remembered, though, how she had described the Twilight upon the eve of their journey into her world … the night he had learned the truth about her heritage. “Some call our realm a world of shadows, but that makes it sound unpleasant…” she had said. “The twilight there holds a serene beauty.”Link had seen that for himself, and he had hoped to see and feel that beauty one more time. Now, that was impossible, and he vowed he would never lose those memories, never forget the warmth of the Twilight, nor the silken, shadowy beauty of his companion.
When he arrived home, it was in the dead of night, and no one was there waiting to welcome him home. He was thankful for that, thankful that the children had not dawdled around his house day and night waiting for his return. Now, he could settle back in in silence and in his own time.
He gazed up at his tree house and took in its dark silhouette. It looked lifeless, as if no one had lived here in years rather than only a few months. Its façade greeted him like an old friend, and he could almost see a face in its bark, welcoming him home from a life of adventure, but something seemed different. He had never trimmed the landscape around his home; he had always let nature live and grow in whatever ways it preferred, and so the grass and weeds surrounding his home had risen nearly to the porch before his door, and vines had begun to coil around the rungs of the meters-tall ladder that led up to it. Leaves that had blown free from their branches had collected on the rooftop and window panes.
Slowly, Link dismounted and led Epona over to her alcove. He removed the weights from her back and set the saddle and bundles down near her. As she nestled down for the night, the grass tickled her, but she found comfort in the warmth it provided. She snorted happily as Link patted down her mane and scratched her ear. Link bade her goodnight and headed up the ladder.
When he opened the door, its hinges creaked and echoed into the void of his hollowed home. Stepping tentatively inside, he had never realized how big it was, how the hollow tree made him feel equally as empty. It was … strange to feel so alien inside his own house, to feel like an outsider within the very walls he had helped carve. Moonlight poured in through the windows high above, and he left the door open as he moved forward. There was enough light for him to see that nothing had been touched since he had left. No one had even stopped by to tidy his house, for everyone knew that he preferred privacy and solitude.
Or did he?
Standing in the shadows in the night, he saw the items Colin had given him over the years, the paintings of Link, Ilia, Epona, and him. Link stepped up to the wall where they hung and ran his fingers over the face of Colin, a boy who had once been a timid little thing content with a simple, happy life … and then his fingers stopped on Ilia, his childhood friend. He moved his hand over the drawing next to it, an older drawing, one that pictured a very young Link with a very young Ilia and Fado. It was this drawing that Link had crafted himself ten years ago. Ilia … a girl he had long cared for, a girl he had known all his life.
He looked down at the table where he had set the other crafts Colin had made. There were wooden dolls dressed like Link and Colin and Rusl; a small ocarina that, though it was a good attempt, had never really been able to carry a decent tune; and his fishing rod. Link realized he was leaning against the wall, fingers still covering the picture he had drawn as a child. Seeing Ilia’s young face reminded him of something she had said.
“…something I wanted to give you before you left on your journey.”
Link opened one of the pouches hanging from his belt and pulled out the horseshoe charm Ilia had made for him. He remembered the way Ilia had sobbed into his shoulder, the way he had held her tight and promised, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”He would always be her friend, the confidant to her every tear, but there was another vow he had made, and it pained him that he had broken it.
“Wherever it is you go, I will follow.”
His promise had shattered with a single tear. Midna had left in an explosion of light and shadow, departing from his world as quickly as she had giggled into it. He had been mesmerized by her transformation, and he remembered reaching out to touch the smoothness of her glossy new face, only for his fingers--just inches from her skin--to fall away from the weight of his pain as he had fallen into numb oblivion.
Link unstrapped his scabbard and laid it down on a table next to the one before him. He looked from the hilt of the Ordon sword, once more sheathed in the hero’s scabbard, to the fishing rod.
Two separate worlds … colliding all this time to produce his greatest challenge yet. The choice everyone had faced when Ganondorf had been defeated: the choice of how to move on, how to live. And he realized it was not a choice of which friend was more important, whom he would defend with his last breath. It was a choice of staying put or moving on, living in constant isolation and peace or taking to the wonder and unpredictability of adventure.
He could choose the wood, or he could choose the road. He did not have to abandon one to accept the other. If he left he would always have a home to return to, and if he stayed, the horizon would be there to greet him the next day … and upon every morrow.
But what if he suffered a permanent injury if he stayed, an injury that prevented him from traveling, or if he settled down and had a family and his responsibilities as a husband and father prohibited him from leaving their side?
Yet, if he left, what if he got lost and could not find his way home? What if he took to the road and enjoyed it so much that he forgot about his friends he had left behind?
He unsheathed the Ordon sword, stepped back and twirled it in his hand before looking into its surface. The solution was right before him, his answer in the glimmer of the steel. With this sword he would carry every memory with him. If he stayed he would always remember his journey with Midna, and if he left he would always have it to remind him where he came from.
Still, he could not choose. After bringing peace to Hyrule, he had seen happiness return to every denizen of Hyrule. Which choice would bring him happiness? Protecting Hyrule had never been a choice; it had been an obligation he had felt to his very core, but now … now it was he who could decide where his road led.
“Some say … he went on to live out his days in Hyrule Castle as a knight. Others believe he settled down, had a family; others still, say that he left Hyrule, in search of adventure, never to return to his birth land.”Link remembered the words of Auru on the night he had asked the fate of the hero of old and wondered if it had been just as impossible for him to decide.
===============
Link had not found much sleep that night, and when the first signs of dawn broke through his window, he decided to seek counsel from the only man he thought might understand his plight. Carefully, he traversed back down the ladders from his bed and slipped into his tunic and boots. He tried to leave the house without his sword, but he felt too light without it and ended up going back for it.
He took the road at a steady pace, leaving Epona behind to rest from their travels. He needed time to prepare for the many faces he would encounter at any rate. When he arrived in the village, only the adults were awake and seeing to the chores of the day, and he stopped as each greeted and thanked him for the safe return of their children and to spend some time asking about his travels. Link was finding it easier since his journey with Shad to open up about a few of the details of the lands he had crossed and the wonders he had seen. No conversation lasted too long, however, for none wished to keep Link from his path and Link did not want to keep them from their chores. Everyone noticed the sling around his arm immediately and a kind “Get well” was everyone’s parting words.
When he had stopped to talk with Jaggle at the pumpkin patch, Link’s attention fell on the mayor’s house, and he considered diverting his intentions to see Bo and his daughter. Yet, with his decision still weighing in his mind and his heart still heavy, he could not bring himself to walk across the bridge.
Instead, Link continued on his course up the path toward Rusl and Uli’s house. He knocked and waited, the moment hanging uncomfortably until the door opened. The face of Rusl greeted him jovially. “Link! We didn’t know when to expect you!” he said, and Link knew he meant the entire village rather than only his family. “Come in. We’re about to eat. Hungry?”
Link had not expected so much pomp and circumstance, and it made him a little timid to enter. He had come with the intent to seek Rusl’s guidance, but with the household awake and together, it would have been rude to intervene. He had not eaten properly since visiting the bar in Castle Town, where Telma had been certain to force food down him before he dragged Shad and Ashei out on their adventure. Yet, he still did not have much of an appetite.
Just as he was about to kindly decline, he heard Uli from the back of the room, “Of course he is! Link, please, join us.”
After setting the table and wiping her hands on a cloth over her shoulder, she came to greet Link with her squinting smile. Her concern for Link’s appearance was well hidden, but Link could still see the worry in her eyes.
“Hey, Link!” came the bright call of Colin, leaping down from his seat and marching up to Link with a bundle in his hands. Link heard a strange suck of air and a light moan, and his hand immediately went to his sword as he took a step inside. Just as his eyes searched the room, Uli and Colin giggled as Rusl shut the door.
Rusl clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Link, though puzzled, relaxed. He nodded toward Colin, toward the bundle that he carried.
“Look, Link,” he said. “I’m a big brother now, too!”
Link realized he had not even paid attention to the size of Uli’s belly. Colin turned to the side, and then Link could see … a small babe, already with a full head of blond hair and two blue eyes staring up at him. A smile tugged at Link’s lips, and he could not refuse sharing a meal with the family that had taken him in as one of their own. His family.
There was much laughter to be heard around the breakfast table as the morning wore on, and Link could not remember a time when he had laughed so thoroughly and joyfully nor felt so at ease and at home. As he spent time with the people that had cared for him all his life, and whom he had given everything, he thought perhaps he had made up his mind. Later, as Uli tended to his wounds and changed his bandages, he listened to Colin’s tale about their trek through the fields and the woods and told him all about how he helped his mother care for his new sister, already a month old. And as Link listened, he remembered how life used to be, the simplicity of it, the natural order of things, how the highlight of the day could be something as simple as carving a pumpkin or chasing the chickens.
He felt absolutely and undeniably at home and entirely at peace.
“There.” Finished with her work, Uli wrapped Link’s gnarled and bruised wrist and fingers in fresh, thick bandages and returned his arm to its sling. “It’s healing well,” she said. The same thing she had said about his side wound when she had checked it. He still could not move his fingers, however, and he wondered if he had permanently lost the use of his hand.
Suddenly, Colin reappeared at his side after having cleared the table. “Dad and I made something for you,” he said, and Link remembered when the boy had made every other gift how it had been Uli to announce the gifts and prod her son into presenting them to Link. “Well, Dad did most the work. I just helped him paint it,” he corrected, as Rusl returned from having left the room some time ago. He carried something large and flat in his hands, and he set it down on the table.
Link stood and tentatively approached the table, a strange tingle creeping up his spine. He did not know what gift they could have possibly deemed so important, especially given its size. They did not need to present him with gifts, and just as Link was about to courteously refuse, Rusl urged him on. “Go ahead, Link. It’s all right.”
Still uncertain if he could accept their generosity, Link looked to Colin … finding his awestruck eyes impossible to refuse. Slowly, he lifted the folds of the fabric … and discovered a very familiar metallic sheen underneath.
A shield. His Hylian shield, the one Ganondorf had utterly destroyed.
Involuntarily, Link grabbed his right forearm, the sight of the shield spurring the pain he had felt from Ganondorf’s blow to rise once more. It looked as flawless as the day Renado had given it to him, like it had never seen battle, but Link knew better. He would have died countless times had it not been for this plate of steel before him.
Though Colin and Uli watched on with smiles, Rusl’s had slowly faded. When Link had gripped his arm at the sight of the shield, he knew what memory had triggered within Link’s mind. Rusl clenched his teeth, guilty at having caused him pain. His own memories of watching Link be beaten down again and again surfaced, and just as he was about to step in to comfort Link … Link’s hand fell and his fingers touched the crimson bird painted on the shield. Rusl realized he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled an anxious breath.
Link traced the spread of the bird’s wings and then ran his fingers across the embossed Triforce symbol above it. He did not know what to feel standing there, faced with a hero’s shield. Being back home, being with his family, he thought he had finally figured things out. He thought he might stay and return to his simple life in the woods. But the remnants of his time as Hyrule’s hero continued to crop up and would never really go away.
“I….” He looked up at Colin, and then locked eyes with Rusl. “Thank you,” said Link with a smile.
But Rusl knew he was pretending. Perhaps he truly was grateful that his shield had been fixed, but there was something wrong, something Link was not saying. Rusl did not have the chance to question him, however, for it was not long after that Link took his leave, Hylian shield once more resting against his back.
When Link left Rusl’s house, he had every intention of finally going to see Ilia, but once he stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the porch of her house, Link felt weighed down by the steel on his back. His brows furrowed in his confusion. Why could he not bring himself to enter? How could he just stand there? He pursed his lips, looking from the door to the dirt at his feet, and when he returned his gaze to the door, he let out a restless breath and turned away.
As he walked away, up the hill toward Fado’s ranch, his eyes were still heavy with confusion and … was it sorrow he felt? As if he knew he were walking these paths for the last time, saying goodbye to every rock and tree, everything and everyone. But how was it he felt like this? He had not decided his road yet.
At the ranch Link prayed he might find some solace, and when he came to the gate and saw the goats in the field and Fado near the stable, he leaned against the gate and watched, as if lost in some dream. Even through the excitement of his adventures, he had missed this, missed the free, open air of the ranch and the sound of the goats as they traipsed about and picked at the grass. Link could not believe what his eyes were telling him … that he had done what he had set out to do, that after everything … he had finally returned home.
Everyone was safe. Everyone was home.
Yet, he still felt … broken … incomplete…. No, those did not describe it, and he could not put his finger on it.
Just then he saw Fado waving in the distance and running toward him. Fado fumbled to open the gate, and when it creaked open, he flung his arms around Link tightly … and squeezed out a genuine laugh.
Though Link could not help in tending the goats, he still wanted to stay and help, thinking that perhaps returning to his routine might help ease his mind. As he worked, however, cleaning the stable and tossing down fresh hay into the pens, his mind wandered. He had finished with his chores before he had realized the passing of time, and when he stepped back out into the late afternoon sun, it was to find Fado herding the goats. Link leaned against the outside of the stable and watched his friend as he weaved this way and that on the back of the brown horse Fado had raised and Link had trained. Link had rarely ever seen Fado on horseback, but he knew that with his absence, Fado had finally been forced to take full responsibility of his ranch.
He doesn’t need me anymore, Link realized, and though the thought made him happy for his friend … there was a spark of sadness that crept into his smile.
===============
Lost in thought, Link paid little attention to his surroundings as he descended into the village again. His feet had guided him along these paths so many times, that his body mindlessly trudged on, but a soft gasp broke his step and his racing thoughts. Turning, his eyes met the emerald glow of Ilia.
Link’s mouth hung open, at a loss for words as he realized he had passed her house and taken one step across the small bridge. “Link…” breathed Ilia. She took slow, careful steps toward him, and Link did likewise. When they met, the silence hung awkwardly as Ilia’s eyes began to water. Link could see the worry etched in her face, the lines that had wrinkled her face in the weeks they had been apart.
“You’re back,” she said softly. She reached out, and when she touched his shoulder, proving to herself that he truly did stand before her, her breath caught through a sudden smile.
Her touch made Link’s heart beat faster, and he did not know what to say. He had been trying to figure out how to approach her ever since he had returned. There was so much to say, so much left unresolved between them, but so much that he did not know. Yet, seeing her now, feeling her….
Link kindly took her hand in his and smiled as he gently squeezed her fingers. He could see that she was expecting more, expecting him to say something, wanting him to assure her that he was back … back for good.
He knew what needed to be said, but he could not give her an answer yet. He did not know how best to tell her, and he hoped she would understand. He just needed a little more time.
At the door of her house, Link noticed Bo waddling out only to stop at the sight of Link and Ilia. He looked as though he might retreat to give them privacy, but Link released Ilia’s hand, nodded at the mayor, and turned back down the road.
Ilia watched him go, afraid that her worst fear was coming true … that she was losing Link.
Link’s chest felt tight, the kind of sick feeling that came from uncertainty and fear of the unknown, fear of making the tough decisions, fear of how it might affect those closest to him. His mood only slightly improved as he grew closer to the edge of the village, where he was met by the excited yelps of the children. Beth and Malo ran up to him, asking question after question about the Twili and his return trip. Talo had been standing atop Beth’s house trying to knock down another bee’s nest that had formed since their absence, but he halted immediately at the sight of Link and clumsily clambered down the side of the house.
“Link! Dad said you were back,” he said.
Link nodded.
“Will you play with us?” asked Malo all of a sudden.
But Beth snapped back before Link could answer. “Of course he can’t! Look at his arm, idiot!”
Link snorted a laugh, and while Malo and Beth continued to argue, Talo approached him … more timidly than ever, and he reminded him of how Colin used to be. “Uh, Link….” Talo stumbled over what he wanted to say, but Link understood, could hear the gratitude in his tone, and waited. His thanks came with the offering of the item in his hand, the item he had been playing with. “Here, I never gave this back to you.”
Talo opened his fist and presented Link with the slingshot he had made as a boy and the one he had loaned to Talo nearly a year ago.
“Keep it,” said Link, and Talo’s face lit up.
“Really?”
Link nodded, and watched as Talo ran around, yelling for Beth and his brother. Link watched for a little while as they played, but when he spotted Ilia’s house in the distance, his grin faded once more. He turned back down the path, continuing on his way out of the village and feeling more conflicted than he could ever remember.
===============
That evening, Link brought Epona to the spirit spring. Together, they bathed in the calming waters and washed away their aches, washed away the weariness. As they soaked in the water, Link’s defenses rinsed away layer after layer until he was at last just the boy of Ordon again. He let the worries of his journey finally trickle away and fade into the ripples of the spring. As he combed Epona’s wet mane, however, the deep reds and violets that braided with her hair turned Link’s attention to the setting sun, sky ablaze with the goddesses’ paints.
“…just look at the sky! Isn’t the black cloud of twilight looking beautiful today?” Link heard, but he knew he was only imagining the voice.
Suddenly solemn again, Link sat down in the water, and he could hear Epona do the same behind him. He looked up into the sky, wondering what Midna might be doing, if she was lost in her duties … or if perhaps she, too, were thinking of him.
“…is perpetual twilight really all that bad?” she had once asked Zelda, and Link thought that if every sunset were as beautiful as this … as warm and welcoming as the air of the Twilight Realm … he could have lived like this forever.
Link laid back into the water, and it pooled gently around his body. He closed his eyes, remembering the cool yet warm sensation of the Twilight, but then another memory sprung into his mind … one where he had woken to a completely new world in an eyeblink. King Bulblin and his cohorts had crashed into the spring and changed Link’s life forever. Link had splashed into the water, helpless to stop the king from taking his friends. Back then, fear had possessed him. Now, as he lay there, he could accept everything that had happened, and he even wondered where the great ogre had gone since the defeat of Ganondorf.
When he opened his eyes, a swirl of bright pink lights hovered around him. Surprised by the appearance of the light and thinking that perhaps the light spirit had come to speak with him, he jumped to his feet. Yet, this light was different. The little orbs floated all around, humming and whistling as they drew nearer and nearer. They sparkled like diamonds, and as one broke formation and flitted around his head, he realized that these were small sprites, fairies that lived in the forest and who were said to be very skittish around people.
Link reached out as if to greet the little creature, but it flew away, and as he spun around to watch as it soared around him, he felt a burning sensation flow through his right arm. The feeling spread into his chest and abdomen as the little sprites circled him, dusting his body with their purifying glitter. His body tickled and itched at the same time, and just as suddenly as they had come, the fairies zipped away, disappearing once more into the forest.
The tension in his body had lifted, the painful tightness in his arm rinsed away. First, he looked to his stomach, where he found only a scar, his crusted blood and stitches melted by the magic of the sprites. Tentatively, he unwrapped his arm and discovered that he could bend his fingers, every bone now perfectly reset. Looking beyond his hand, he spotted his reflection in the water … and he could barely recognize himself. The scars of his journey still remained, and each held a memory like Ashei said. Even the mark of the divine beast had remained, the symbol still faint but recognizable against his forehead.
But the worst scar lived within him. The mark Midna had left….
“Loneliness always pervades the hour of twilight,” came a voice, and Link turned to see Rusl watching him from the shadows.
Link bowed his head, remembering the evening Rusl had first spoken those words, a time when he had still been ignorant to the world … ignorant to loss. “Someone once told me … it’s the only time when our world connects with theirs,” said Link. He gazed upon his left hand and rubbed the scar he had received during his first night as the wolf, the first night he had met Midna. “The only time we can feel the lingering regrets … of those who have left us….”
Rusl knew exactly who he was thinking of and stepped closer. “You, Link, restored faith to the people of Hyrule. Don’t let your victory drain your hope.”
Hope.
His journey had always been about hope; it had seen him through. Hope he would find the children, Epona, and Ilia; that Princess Zelda could save Midna from death; that he would not meet the same fate as the Shade … hope that the people of Hyrule would not lose their dreams to a tyrant. Hope had kept him alive, and it would fuel his journey through life.
Finally, Link admitted what he had kept bottled inside ever since he had witnessed that strange, beautiful face vanish. “I will never see her again.” It hurt to finally say it out loud, to finally make it real. “I keep wondering why … but I think I knew all along … that it would end like this.”
“You can never lose hope, Link,” pressed Rusl, and Link wondered if he was simply consoling him or if he truly believed that. “Hope is what made all this possible.”
“…last potential link….”
By Midna’s testament, finding a way into the Twilight Realm would be impossible … but the goddesses had brought miracles to life countless times before.
“You’re leaving aren’t you?” Rusl finally asked, but he already knew the answer.
Link looked into his eyes, studying his mentor and hoping to find his answer there, but Link turned away with a sigh. “During my journey … I found out who I was…” he said, struggling to put words to the thoughts that had been spinning in his head for so long now. “So why do I feel…?” He huffed, angry until he was finally able to put a name to his feelings. “Now that I’m back, I’ve never felt so lost.”
Rusl could see every vulnerability in Link in that moment, every doubt and every worry he had ever had. He could see the pain and the happiness, could see his life written in his scars, and for once … he had no answer. “Link, I wish I could help you,” he said, “but my days of guiding you are over. I think you have to find your own way now.”
Lips pressed tightly together, Link looked toward the sky once more. Deep in thought, he did not hear Rusl take his leave. Drinking in the colors of the horizon, feeling the warmth of the setting sun, and remembering the round little face of a curious little creature … Link made his decision.
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That night, Link had found some peace in his sleep, and when he woke the next morning, he laid there a moment, breathing slowly. No matter what it meant, how it affected those around him, he had not changed his mind. It was time to get back to his life, and the way he spent his days was his choice. Like Rusl had said, he had to find his way, and as he lie there he realized … he had made up his mind a long time ago.
Link rolled out of bed and worked through the dawn to bring some order to his house, cleaning his small kitchen area, straightening his shelves and drawers, sweeping the dust from his floorboards. Once his house had been cleaned, he stepped outside to gather up the bundles he had left beside Epona. Before, he had not been able to carry them up due to his arm, but now the use of his fingers had been returned to him. He carried everything inside and unraveled the items on his table and floor. Sprawled before him were the things he had collected along his journey. There was his bow and empty quiver, the boomerang, his small lantern, an empty bomb bag, and the armor the late Queen Rutela had given him.
At first, he had thought to put some of these items away, but….
“If your father has taught me anything it is to always be prepared,” he remembered telling Colin once, and so he began reorganizing his things.
He did not know what he may need on the road ahead.
After packing for the road, bundling his items as well as packing a healthy amount of food for his journey, he donned the hero’s garments once more. He stuffed the empty bomb bag into one of the pouches and tightened the strap of his scabbard across his chest. He clasped the leather straps of his gauntlet and bracer over his right arm, and the tightness around his limb again felt good.
Once dressed, he descended into the basement of his house, which was dark even in the brightest days, but a single ray of light peeking in from the windows above was enough to guide him toward the single small chest he kept on the overstocked shelves. He had wrapped it in the small, torn blanket that he had worn when Rusl had found him as a babe, and inside of the little blue chest--ornamented with golden edges--was the single item Rusl had found on his person all those years ago. A beautifully woven coin purse--one that Link liked to think belonged to his mother--and inside was a single violet rupee, its value worth quite a bit in trade.
Link tied the strings of the purse around his belt, closed and wrapped the chest, and set it back down on the shelf. He started back for the stairs, but stopped mid-step when he saw a long, rectangular mirror resting in the corner. He stepped over to it, and when he looked into its reflection, the corner of it cracked, he remembered the morning Midna had left his side. Link stared at his reflection and saw the eyes of the feral beast looking back at him. He would never be the same, and yet he would always be Link….
He touched the symbol that had branded his forehead, and, instead of ruffling his bangs to hide it, he pushed his locks away. He saw the shadows of the basement surrounding him, and he smiled. Midna would never truly be gone. Link would see her, feel her, in every shadow.
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Arrows freshly crafted and Epona saddled, Link sat on a rock as he sharpened his blade. The rhythmic and rough chime that sounded each time whetstone and steel met numbed his senses, and he lost himself to his thoughts--trying to think of how to say goodbye to Ilia and the others. He realized how hard it must have been for Midna to leave everything she had come to care for. Once finished, though, he still did not have his answer. He wiped down his blade with a cloth and returned his sword to its sheath as he walked over to Epona, who stood just outside his house. Link tucked away the whetstone and then lifted bundles and blankets, strapping them behind her saddle. Just as he tied his lantern to dangle from the side with his food pack and waterskin, he noticed movement and looked up.
There stood Ilia, hands clasped at her waist as her eyes held back tears and a breath escaped through her open jaw.
Link bit his lip. This had not been how he had wanted Ilia to find out. He looked away for a moment, to gather his nerve. He did not want his emotions to get the better of him; he did not want her to think that this was goodbye. Goodbye was so final.
Ilia took slow steps toward him, and every footfall panged through Link like a fresh stab. Her eyes were watering with tears ready to fall when she at last stopped just a few feet away. She patted Epona’s mane, and it was as if it were many months ago as they stood in the spirit spring.
Link could not decide what to say; nothing seemed right. And Ilia did not want to accept what she saw, did not want to make it real.
But it was real.
“Ilia…” Link finally breathed, but the rest of his words escaped him, for with that single word he witnessed Ilia’s tears falling silently. Her lips quivered, and as her cheeks flushed and she swallowed a deep breath, he knew she was trying so hard not to fall to pieces in front of him.
“I thought…” she started, her tears strangling her voice. Her chin wavered under the quake of her lips, but she pressed on. “I thought we could settle back into our lives … start back where we’d left off.” She took a deep breath as she blinked and held her eyes closed for a moment. When she reopened them, fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she shook her head. “But we can’t … can we? Everything’s different now.” Finally, she looked at Link, looked at the boy she had known all her life and the man he had become. “You’re different.”
Link realized he had been clenching his jaw, perhaps in his attempt to hold back his own tears and swallow the emotions constricting his throat. He took a step forward as he said, “No. My name is Link. I am from Ordona.” He stepped closer with each sentence until he had closed the space between them. “And you are my best friend. No amount of time or distance will ever change that, Ilia.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted to know he would always think on her, but she could not be sure of anything anymore. Ilia collapsed into his arms, her grief overtaking her. “Please, I don’t want to say goodbye,” she pleaded into his chest.
Slowly, Link wrapped his arms tightly around her, just as he had done the day she had finally remembered his face and apologized endlessly. He closed his eyes and rested his chin against her head. He listened to her cries as a tear trickled down his cheek. She smelled so wonderful and fit perfectly within his arms, and he would miss her but….
“This isn’t goodbye,” he promised, and he lowered his cheek to rest against the side of her head. He whispered into her hair, “Never goodbye.” He pressed a light kiss into her hair and held her as she cried.
After a short while, Ilia sniffled and looked up at Link. “Can you at least promise me…. Just … come home” --she smiled softly-- “…one day?”
Link returned her grin and nodded. He took her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “One day.”
Ilia’s heart warmed at his promise, but then he stepped back and mounted Epona. When he urged Epona into a gallop, Ilia raced after him, suddenly afraid. She stopped at the corner of the clearing at the mouth of the path leading into Faron Woods. Holding her hands tightly together at her breast, watching as he quickly sped away and out of sight and into a world far away, she found herself crying again. She could hear the voice of Fado behind her, asking if she had seen Link, but she blocked him out, had to have these last moments with Link, as she watched his image fade away forever.
And she only hoped that one day he might honor his promise.
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As Link sped his way through Faron, he was surprised how the strands of his web of worry were quickly snapping and falling away. With each step his heart felt lighter and his spirits seemed to fly as he rode on. He would miss his home, miss his friends, but the world of Hyrule awaited his return. It had been waiting for him all these years.
He stopped when he reached the narrow path beyond the great wooden bridge. A long time ago, he had been dragged into a world of darkness right at this very spot. The pall of darkness that had plagued the lands had long since faded, but he could still remember every detail. In the days behind him he had had only one choice: fight and protect. Now, when he crossed through the wood and reached Hyrule field … there would be several paths from which to choose. He thought perhaps he could visit those he had met on his journey. He could visit the yetis in Snowpeak, or stop in at Zora’s Domain to finally introduce himself to their new sovereign, or perhaps he could return to the old sheikah woman.
Whatever his path, he would have friends that welcomed him or a fire to keep him warm, and as he rode toward every tomorrow, he would always have his yesterdays. He pulled out the ornament Ilia had given him. He would always belong to Ordon, just as he would always belong to Hyrule, and he would never forget his childhood friend as he kept the charm close to his heart. He would never say goodbye.
He thought of Midna then, thought of her giggle and of her curious little face.
She had never really left him. It was as if she was there with him now, hanging as nothing but shadow. “So, shall we go then?” she asked--just as she had beckoned him into the twilight covering Eldin.
“Yes,” he replied. He tucked away the charm and he threw Epona into a canter.
See you later, Link said to Midna, and he smiled, knowing that he would see her as often as he liked in his memories. He knew in his heart that she thought of him in the same way, but even through the sadness of their parting, he knew they had shared something special, something that would warm them even through their darkest days.
Link would see her smile and the sparkle of her red eyes every time the sun set over his world, every time their separate worlds intersected. Separate worlds, forever bound.
Now, it was time to ride into the horizon of tomorrow.
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Princess Zelda stepped through the ruined throne room, inching her way toward the giant velvet seat from which her father had once proudly ruled. The memory of Ganondorf’s reign was still fresh in her mind, and with the walls and ceiling destroyed in the tryant’s rage, she wondered how her hero had survived at all. She gazed up at the broken carving of the goddesses, headless bodies gathered in a circle around the Triforce … and she thanked them.
A castle was nothing more than stone, and the only thing running the length of its veins were cool drafts. She stood there, in the midst of the destruction, among the ruined stones of her home, and smiled.
It could have been worse. Ganondorf could have won. More could have died. Hyrule could have perished.
But none of these things had happened.
Auru came up behind her, and he asked gently, “Princess, what would you have us do?”
Zelda caught sight of something then, and bending over, she found the cloak she had given Link. She ran her fingers over its thick cloth as she looked over its sheikah designs. There beneath it were the ruined shards of the dark crystal Link had crushed, and she remembered the first time she had met Link, a curious animal with bright sapphire eyes. She smiled, remembering his kindness, his selflessness … and his reassuring grin.
It was thanks to him that her kingdom could shine once more.
She looked up at the carving again before turning away. “We will rebuild.”
Auru bowed as she left his side and she made her way back through the rubble to reach the balcony at the bottom of the stairs outside. She grasped the railing and looked out onto her kingdom, saw the lush greens and blues, heard the laughter even from this height, felt the wind as it tumbled through her hair and kissed her cheeks.
Zelda wondered if Link was out there somewhere, riding against the horizon. She did not know when she would see him again, be it tomorrow or in a year, but wherever he went and whatever he did, she knew she would always hear stories of him. Such was the nature of heroes and legends.