OOT: NO LONGER KOKIRI
Link did not want to face any of the other Kokiri. Mido had said that he had killed the Great Deku Tree, which in a sense had been true. The Great Deku Tree had been curse, though, and Link had only been too late. Had he been able to save the father of the Kokiri in time, Mido would have merely regarded him with that smug jealousy that he always shot toward Link.
By now all of his friends—or at least, everyone he knew—would know what had happened. None of it mattered, though. The Great Deku Tree had entrusted him with a mission. Hyrule was in danger, and he needed to speak with Princess Zelda and collect the
other two Spiritual Stones.
Link ran across the bridge connecting their woods to the world outside—Hyrule. He had never been outside of the forest. He
rather looked forward to the journey ahead of him. His only regret was that he would probably not her for a while … or never again. His best friend--
“Oh, you’re leaving?” came a voice from behind him, and Link nearly tripped when he stopped.
He turned.
It was her. Saria. Her beautiful, short, green hair glowed in the sunlight shining down through the leafy canopy above them. Her lips had formed a thin line, her eyes brimmed with sadness that did not need to be spoken.
Link stepped back to her.
“I knew that you would leave the forest someday, Link,” she admitted, her gaze never faltering no matter how much she wanted to look away to collect herself. “Because you’re different than us.” Saria was then holding something, clutching it tight against her chest. “But that’s okay,” she said, blinking back a tear, “because we’ll be friends forever.” She looked him square in the eyes again, the emerald color of her fairy making her watery orbs sparkle like nothing Link had ever imagined. “Won’t we?”
Link did not know what to say. He had not been expecting to say goodbye....
But Saria just smiled. “I want you to have this ocarina,” she said, offering the reddish instrument in her hands out to him.
Link took it gently within his hands.
“Please, take good care of it,” she said.
Link and Saria exchanged a long, silent gaze, their eyes reflecting everything that their voices seemed incapable of expressing. Finally, the Kokiri girl spoke, “When you play it, I hope that you’ll think of me … and come back to the forest to visit.”
A loss for words washed over her then, wishing that he would say something, give her some reassurance that this was not goodbye … not forever. She would think of him from time to time, and she just wanted to know—wanted to hear him say—that his thoughts would dawn upon her once in a while, too.
But he said nothing. His eyes mirrored her sadness, but there was something else within his blue orbs that caused tremors to flood her heart. She knew what it was he thought then. He could not bring himself to say anything because he was not sure if he would be able to return. She understood, knew that he did not want to lie to her, to give her a false hope.
That was something. Link was always so sweet, always so careful and caring for others’ feelings. He had never hurt her, and she knew he would never do so.
She watched him leave then, watched as time seemed to slow as he memorized her figure, turned, and ran from their farewell … without looking back. And a deep sadness gripped her.
The forest already sounded hollow without his laugh, dim without his smile … lonely without him.
Please, Link … come back one day.