Well, here it is, folks: my first Zelda fanfic. This idea came to me after reading a wonderful story by Post Rapture, a very talented and all-around nice guy. I only hope that the following pages are enough to satiate your want of a good story and prove to be a worthwhile read. This is definitely a TWT (time, what time?) fic. Send all comments to me, but NO FLAMES. As always, thanks for reading. ^_^
Fairytale Dream
Today was The Day. When the sun slowly crept up upon the distant horizon and began to spill its fiery warmth upon the green, fertile earth, it wasn’t just the same old affable greeting announcing the day’s beginning. Oh no. This was The Day of all days, as pivotal in one fermented life in particular as the day the goddesses descended upon Hyrule so long ago. What made this day so dissimilar from others of its time? Why, this was the day that Malon of Lon Lon Ranch had decided to disclose something of the greatest importance in her life to her best and only friend, none other than the Hero of Time himself: Link.
She loved him.
This was no ordinary puppy love, not even similar to it by the smallest degree. This was Love: the kind that Naryu herself gently coaxes from a seed of innocent admiration to a vast field of unwavering adoration and limitless affection. It had all begun so unpretentiously with that fateful day in the Hyrule Market; where Malon, the young, fiery ranch girl had adventitiously chanced upon a small, singular faerie boy by the name of Link.
An innocent request to search for her sleeping father; a noisy cucco; a beautiful melody to tame a wild foal; one thing had lead to another until the little Kokiri boy and the petite farm girl had developed the beginnings of a boundless friendship that would endure throughout Ganondorf’s reign of evil. Malon realized now that she had never believed in Fate until that day in the marketplace.
While the slightest tendrils of their intertwining companionship had just begun to weave together, however, a great and utterly dismal calamity had occurred, which resulted in the loss of Malon’s only friend: Link had never returned after his visit to the Temple of Time. He had been so pleased with himself for finally collecting, after many long and laborious hours of gruesome battles and instinctual reflexes, the three Sacred Spiritual Stones of Hyrule left behind by the goddesses. After rushing to Malon to show her the three radiant jewels he had so meritoriously earned himself, she had urged him to journey to the Temple of Time, just as the princess had advised him to, to discover what awaited him there. In a state of childish curiosity and utter exhilaration, he had rushed off to the sacred place in hopes of unraveling his quest. A day had passed, then a week, followed sadly after by a month.
He never returned.
In that seemingly short, yet fearfully long, seven-year span in Link’s absence, Ganondorf gained control of the Triforce of Power and transmuted the once serene land of Hyrule into a nightmarish reality and lurid place of monsters, ghosts, and oppression. Unbelieving to the last, Malon felt that somehow things would return to the previously peaceful way of life, and that her existence at that time could not possibly get any worse than it had become. She soon discovered, however, that Ganondorf’s reign had been only the most outlying winds of the storm to come, and, like a redoubtable hurricane, the worst was far from over.
Soon after Hyrule’s decline into darkness, the horrendous future that awaited Malon revealed itself in the swift movements of Fate’s nimble fingers: her father was thrown out of his own ranch, leaving Ingo in charge of the once prestigious and renowned establishment.
And so, by the macabre humor of the darkest forces, a life of beatings, abuse, odium, and cruelty for Malon ensued Ganondorf’s abhorred judgment. If she ever filled the troughs too high or left the stable floor anything less than impeccable, a callous and brutal punishment delivered by Ingo’s drunken fists soon followed.
* * * *
Malon could hear the approaching sounds and smells of Ingo’s intoxicated drivel, carried by the harsh winds from the ranch gate to the stable. Working only by the light of a small, half-melted candle beside her, it suddenly became much more of a challenge to discern whether or not the wooden planks were clean. She began to scrub the floor even harder with the brush as his erratic footsteps could be heard drawing ever nearer to the stable’s wooden door. Remembering that he did not tolerate open horse stall doors, she quickly shut them all and knelt down once again to continue in her labor.
Silently, she prayed that the footfalls would pass by the stable and continue on toward the house. The goddesses, however, were silent that night.
The door creaked open at first and was then slammed against the wall, revealing Ingo’s drunken figure and fuming countenance. The tears begged to spring free and her fearful heart pounded restlessly in her chest. But, despite all her horrified fears, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower in his presence. She may have lost her hope, dignity, and self-respect, but she hadn’t lost her common sense. Showing fear to him was nothing less than an invitation to another beating.
After allowing his bloodshot eyes to adjust the dim light in the stable, he stumbled over the threshold, surveying the surroundings the best he could with unfocused eyesight. After his eyes had made one sweep around the building, his irate gaze fell on Malon, who was kneeling on the floor with her back to him, scrubbing away at the planks. She didn’t need to turn and confront his stare directly. The chills on her back assured her it was there.
“W...what ith thisth?” he slurred angrily, finding it hard to speak with a mouth of cotton. “I thhhought I told you to… clean thisth place uup?”
“I...I did, Mr. Ingo. I did everything you told me to. I cleaned the stalls, stacked the hay, fed the…” Malon responded, as best she could without fear.
“Shut up, you whore!” he interjected furiously, his speech becoming more coherent once he began to yell. “I told you to have this place spotless by the time I got back and look at this shithole! There’s hay everywhere, and the floor’s not even clean enough for the rats! It’s only clean enough for you!”
A solitary tear fell from her eye. No, she commanded herself, you will not show him you’re afraid! She just continued scrubbing the floor, attempting to block out the fear and reminding herself that she knew full well the floor was spotless and all the hay was in the horses’ stalls.
“Are you listening to me, bitch?! By the goddesses, I’ll make you learn to pay attention when I’m talking to you!” he raged, raising his fist.
The next thing she felt was the hard wooden floor rushing up to meet her face with a resounding thud. After hitting her in the head, he grabbed her by the hair and rammed her face into the nearest pole repeatedly until his arm tired. Blood seeping from the wounds on her forehead and face, he turned her to face him and punched her across the face, then in the eye. She fell to the floor, gasping for breath and crying uncontrollably.
The beatings always destroyed her resolve not to shed a tear.
Writhing in pain, she clutched her throbbing head and attempted to curl into a fetal position. But he quickly kicked her in the stomach once, twice, three times. He then swiftly kicked her in the head, ending his brutal punishment and storming out of the stable.
The throbbing pain coursing throughout her body was immense, as if thousands of swords and clubs were beating her about the body and some sharp spear was attempting to break through her skull from within. She had grown accustomed to the beatings themselves, but the pain was something else entirely; she would never be able to get used to it, never be able to block it out like she had everything else in her life.
I wonder what it’s like, she thought sadly, to be free like the wind…
The darkness of unconsciousness soon greeted her with open arms and she gladly accepted, although the tears never ceased nor ebbed while she lie there on the cold stable floor. Slowly, the light from the single candle faded along with her, and was finally snuffed out by the ever-pressing shadows.
No friends, no relatives, no dreams to comfort her could be found in that lonely, stark ranch. Each night presented its own malevolence and misery; each night she wished that Farore would grant her wings with which to fly, to be free of the living hell her existence had become and fly with the wind; and each night, silence and tears were the only visitors brought to her by the cold, harsh moonlight that illuminated the stable floor.
She was alone. Again.
Forever.
* * * *
Malon grabbed her hairbrush from the sparsely scattered belongings atop her wooden dresser and slowly began to brush the knots and tangles from her fiery hair. She made sure to brush each side of her hair extra carefully, should she miss even the tiniest unruly strand.
Everything had to be perfect, flawless.
After ten straight minutes of smoothing her hair, she walked to her white water basin near her bed and filled it with lukewarm water from the pitcher standing next to it. She washed her face numerous times, making sure to scrub every last spec of dirt from her sun kissed skin. Glancing in the mirror and scrutinizing every aspect of her features, she was finally satisfied with her appearance. Now, for the most important question of the morning: which dress to wear?
Immediately an idea presented itself. She rushed to the trunk at the foot of her bed, scrounged through the many memories contained within it, and, after a few moments of searching, sighed in content as she withdrew something from the box. Lovingly, she tried on the dress and admired its imperial quality it in the mirror.
It was made of a deep lavender fabric, a color usually reserved only for royalty. The sleeves reached down her arms to her small wrists, where the material came together in a point on the top of her hand. The waistline made a V that dipped down in the middle, leading the eyes to the skirt, which flowed gently around her in the traditional, graceful shape of a princess’s dress. Seeing the dress fit so perfectly over her curved and shapely figure excited her immensely, but her eyes shown only with sadly happy memories.
This dress had been her mother’s favorite, given to Malon upon her mother’s death, and she had never dawned it before now. Her mother had told her she only wore the dress when she felt it was going to be a singular, beautiful day: one that would never present its likeness again in her lifetime.
If there were to be any day more extraordinary or beautiful than this day in Malon’s life, she would have to journey to the Sacred Realm to find such a thing, for it wouldn’t exist in reality.
* * * *
Another bruise. I’m going to have to start wearing a veil to hide these hideous things from the visitors to the ranch. Mr. Ingo wouldn’t be pleased if strangers began to talk…Malon thought resignedly.
It had been six years since that night in the stable, but the memory of such a horrid event was no longer fresh in her mind. The beatings were far too common and savage to remember each one in punctilious detail. Besides, her memories of her life had dulled and faded with each aching blow to her body.
In the beginning of her imprisonment, for that’s exactly what it was, she had hoped that Ingo would realize the error in his cruel treatment and treat her more kindly. How naïve I was back then…I should have known that nothing would change she thought bitterly.
As the years of time progressed and lead her into the sixth year of hell, the labor and punishments only grew far worse than anything she could have imagined. As things stood now, Ingo didn’t even attempt to find an excuse to thrash her, sober or not. Sometimes he would attack her everyday, and then leave her untouched for weeks. With all this, she didn’t dare to even hope for a cessation to the beatings.
She had given up hope long ago, along with her dreams of becoming free like the untamed wind.
Such things were too childish to believe in, much like fairytales.
Sighing again as she sensed her bruised face and swollen lip, she gingerly touched each of the livid areas. A dull sensation of pain screamed in opposition to her touch. She knew she would have to apply a cool cloth to them later to reduce the swelling, but the workday had to begin with the cuccos clamoring.
Lifting her labor dress from the floor, she proceeded to dress herself. She brushed her hair with her fingers, for Ingo had taken her hairbrush along with her life, and tied her bandana around her neck to soak up the sweat that was to come. It was impossible to see what her appearance looked like, that is, if she had even cared to, because Ingo had confiscated her mirror as well. With eyes as lifeless as the cheerless moonlight that plagued Hyrule of late, she walked to the well to begin her day’s torturous labors.
As she filled the trough with just enough water, no more nor less than what was necessary, she glanced at her reflection in the cool water. Her once cheerful, sun kissed face had grown pale and impassive along with her eyes, which had lost their once radiantly green color and been reduced to a lackluster olive-gray. A smile was not to be seen on her lips, and one hadn’t surfaced for six long years.
Turning her attention from the water to the horses, her eyes seemed to grow more olive now than gray, the nearest expression of happiness she could muster. Working with the horses was the only thing really left in her life now. Although it was not enough to provoke a smile from her somber lips, it lifted her spirits a little more each time than she thought she was capable of.
Essentially, the animals were the only companionship she had left to look forward to. Anyone who happened to visit the ranch never spared her a second glance or even a greeting in passing, much less any form of conversation. They would leave after a few days and never look back, never return.
For some inexplicable reason, each time this happened she was overwhelmed with an unusual sadness, as if she had experienced this same scenario in another time or life. However, each time that feeling crept up upon her, she would brush it off with another stroke of Epona’s mane, knowing that no such thing had ever happened. No one had ever come to the ranch to talk with her; she had never had a chance to make such friends.
She was alone, a prisoner in her own home. Once, long ago, she had wanted to be free like the wild winds, to leave her captivity behind and fly somewhere, anywhere, else. But she had learned a hard and desolate truth these past five years that was forever etched upon her hollow heart.
Dreams, and the happiness that accompanied them, were not meant to come true for her.
* * * *
“Malon!” Talon called from downstairs, actually awake for once. “Is everything ready for tonight?”
Pulled from her reverie, Malon quickly took off the dress. “Yes, daddy. I’m going to pick up anything else we need in Kakariko,” she replied, laying the dress on her bed.
Her father had decided a few weeks ago it had been far too long since old friends had gathered together in the same place. So, to fulfill this void, he had invited everyone they knew to Lon Lon Ranch for a simple get together, where memories could be exchanged and old friends remembered. The spare storage building on the ranch had been transformed into a Great Hall of sorts, with benches and tables and numerous places from which to serve food. A bonfire had been arranged for the time when the goddesses laid the sun to rest, and musicians hired for dancing underneath a moonlit night.
Lon Lon Ranch had been a bustling place for the past week, filled with sounds of tables being constructed by Talon and Ingo and the smells of delicious food, exhaustingly prepared by Malon. Their arduous work, however, shown through in the magnificent final product of the storage building’s interior, and the stage was set for that night.
It was at this particular gathering that Malon planned to confess her love for her best friend. She wasn’t entirely sure what had induced her to tell him; perhaps it was the fact that her feelings had never been as intense or strong as they were now, or that she felt she owed it to him to let him know how she really felt about him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the smallest flickering flame of hope within her heart that told her she would never know how he truly felt about her unless she instigated it.
Several years of friendship had taught her that Link, while he was undoubtedly the bravest of heroes, was the most nervous, bashful person out of anyone she knew when it came to anything dealing with love.
Whatever the case may be, all Malon knew was that she was going to tell him tonight. But before she could even venture to think upon that matter, her chores for the day had to be finished. Hastily, she dressed in her usual working clothes and headed out to the stables, determined to make record time for finishing her daily labors.
* * * *
Malon collapsed into her bed with the moon already half way across the dark sky. She was tired, and not just physically. Her daily existence was becoming more and more of a challenge than she ever thought possible; simply waking up was a nightmare she dreaded more than the horrors she dreamt nightly.
Releasing an empty sigh, she glanced up through her window at the midnight heavens. They were dotted with thousands of winking gems and a crescent moon that quietly dominated the strangely foreign scene. I think that’s the first time I’ve really looked at the moon in the past seven years. Up until now, it’s always seemed so…bleak.
As usual, Ingo had been barking orders at her all day long, telling her to fill the troughs, empty them because they were too high, feed the horses, replenish the hay. It was exhausting work, but she didn’t dare rise against him in the slightest opposition. She had long before discovered Ingo’s foul temper when she had had the audacity to question his commands, and she had been smart enough to realize, after the first time, never to cross him again. She had learned the very hard way.
She didn’t know how much longer she could stand it: this feeling of loneliness and helplessness that plagued her day in and day out. Of course she had thought about, even attempted, ending it all with one swift stroke of the cutting blade. But every time she had endeavored to bring the knife down upon her wrist or throat, something silent had always held her back. It could almost be described as a pleading whisper.
Besides, death was the easy way out of things. Whatever splinter of pride she had left within her soul would not allow her to commit such a cowardly act; yes, it was more difficult to bear the constant pain and limitless suffering, but when everything was said and done she would still be able to hold her head up high in the end. That is, that’s what she believed she would feel if she could ever hope for an end to the anguish.
A hopeless dreamer…Malon thought. That’s exactly me.
Soon she became unaccountably tired with the day’s work weighing down upon her, and she lied down upon the stable floor on top of the mound of stinking hay and cloth that was her bed. As she attempted to roll over on her side her action was cut short by her wincing as the bruises on her arms and neck provided the sudden, dull rush of pain with which she was all too familiar.
No, she thought bitterly, I’m nothing but a blind fool.
And she soon began to drift in and out of sleep, as she usually did; a sleep void of any
dreams, but filled with an endless darkness.
* * * *
Talon huffed heavily as the last bale of hay was stacked upon the dozens already stored inside the barn. Today was not the day for his usual lethargic habits, oh no, today was a day to work, and work hard. After all, he had some very important people coming to his ranch that evening, including the princess herself, and the last thing he wanted was to be shamed by his un-orderly barn and stables.
A slight chuckle escaped his mouth as he watched his only daughter scurry around the ranch like a small bird before a storm. She was definitely looking upon this impending event with much anticipation, that much was clear, but Talon was simply at a loss as to what would get her into such a fermented state.
Smiling to himself, he shook his head as he realized he already knew the answer to that puzzle. Must be that faerie boy she spends so much time with.
It’s funny, he thought wistfully as he glanced up at the azure sky, one minute she’s my innocent little girl, then I turn around and there she is: all grown up. And looking more and more like her mother everyday…where does the time go?
Turning back to his work, he made sure the bales were tightly secured one on top of the other throughout the entire barn, then, satisfied, spun on his heel and strolled toward the house. It was almost showtime, and even a simple rancher had a desire to present himself as neatly as possible before company.
I guess Malon beat me today, he supposed as he saw her work boots lying on the floor, carelessly thrown there by obviously zealous hands. Glancing up the stairs, where sounds of rushing feet and splashing water could be heard, an anxious look crept into his experienced eyes.
* * * *
Her hand gingerly clasped her bleeding cheek, the stinging mark left by Ingo’s infuriated fists and leather strap throbbing unbearably. The swollen flesh surrounding her eye was already foretelling of another black eye, and all this over a jar of milk.
“If I ever catch you handing out free samples of my milk ever again I swear to the goddesses you’ll be begging for this kind of pain over the torture I will give you!” he growled, the bottle in his other hand already half empty. “Now get back to work, you whore!” he commanded, ending his last comment with a swift kick to her stomach.
After the slammed door’s banging had ceased, Malon collapsed on the wooden floor of the stable, hanging onto the edge of the water trough with her shaking hands. Her limbs were shaking and her eyes were dry. She never cried anymore. Still, she remained in that position for what seemed like hours. Then a sound she had come to dread could be heard reverberating throughout the entrance to the ranch.
It was the sound of a horse’s gallop, followed by the clanking of metal armor.
Hastily, she stood up, smoothed her hair and dress as best she could, and turned to busy herself with filling a water pail. She would not let the visitor see her like this.
The door to the stable creaked open with the apprehensive approach of the traveler, who was obviously searching for someone, anyone, who lived on the ranch. Tentative footsteps drew nearer and nearer to Malon until the stranger was standing within a few feet of her, at a respectful distance. “Excuse me, miss,” he began, then stopped as she slowly turned to face him directly.
There’s no point in attempting to hide it, she thought. He’ll see it anyway.
“Are you okay, miss? You look like you’ve been…,” the young man continued hesitantly.
Her heat had ceased to beat. Malon couldn’t believe what she was seeing; he looked so good it hurt. His figure was obviously well built and very muscular, and his blonde hair and deep blue eyes were enough to melt her where she stood. His manner of dress was a little odd, he was wearing the clothes of a faerie boy, but his general attitude of concern overwhelmed any second thoughts she had about his unusual fashion sense. She couldn’t remember the last time she had blushed at simply laying eyes on someone.
“Oh, a visitor! We don’t get visitors very often anymore. Ever since Ganondorf gained control of the Triforce of Power, all the people have either left town or turned evil. My father owned this ranch, but Ganondorf threw him out and put Mr. Ingo in charge. If I don’t do what he says, he treats m-…,” she faltered as the stranger’s gaze narrowed. “Th- the h-horses so badly…”
Prating on and on was her best defense against any kind of situation like this one. At least that way, Ingo wouldn’t be able to thrash her too harshly for daring to speak to anyone who happened upon the ranch.
The traveler’s eyes softened in understanding of her words. “That’s a shame. There are some really beautiful…horses here. If there’s anything I can do to help…” he offered gently, taking a step closer to her.
“Oh, please!” she begged, suddenly overcome with deep emotion. “Please, rescue Epona from Mr. Ingo. She deserves to be free…like the wind. She needs…to live…”
A single tear spilled down her sun-kissed cheek. A tear? Am I…she silently wondered, stunned.
“I promise,” the young man murmured softly, wiping the trailing wetness from her cheek with his thumb, “to do whatever I can.”
With that, he smiled gently at her and swept through the stable doors.
A few hours later, while Malon was on her only ten-minute break, she caught wind of a frighteningly familiar sound. Ingo was in a rage again.
Hastily, she took one last drink from the trough and rushed to the stable doors. Just as she came into the fresh, spring air, she saw a sight that made her heart soar higher than it had in years.
It was the green-clothed stranger, and he was riding Epona around the corral.
Ingo was yelling something about the young man not being able to leave to the ranch with the horse, and was obviously expecting a great deal of protest. Much to his, and Malon’s, surprise, however, the young man instead turned and trotted away from the gate. As he turned around, Malon quickly realized what he was going to attempt and swiftly moved out of the way.
With one quick command, the stranger had Epona cantering towards the gate. Amazed, all Ingo could do was watch in bewilderment as the horse sailed over the gate and landed at a galloping pace on the other side. Malon was overcome with joy; Epona was finally free! As the young man galloped past her, he smiled triumphantly at her. Then he was gone.
Thank you, she rejoiced silently, a salty tear falling from her face for the second time that day. Thank you…
* * * *
What do I do with my hair?! she panicked. I never thought that far ahead! I only have an hour left before they, he, gets here! Malon was in a fever. This night had to be perfect, flawless, and her she was with her long, shabby tresses hanging around her like a horse’s mane. There had to be something she could do with it…
Got it! She silently patted herself on the back and set to work twisting, looping, and pinning. Fortunately, her mother had shown her how to style her hair in some very elegant fashions, and her father helped her remember just how they were composed. Though she wasn’t sure how well it would turn out with only pair of hands to do the work. At the conclusion of the hour, however, she received her answer, and the final product was well worth the labor.
Perfect.
She had managed to braid all of her long, flowing hair into several, tiny braided portions. After many attempts, and many failures, she had succeeded in pinning all of the braids together in a single circle near the crown of her head, leaving a few strands blowing freely about her face. It was a style that was normally only seen on nobility, but not tonight. Tonight was hers and hers alone to cherish.
Or perhaps, if all went well, it would be cherished by herself and another someone special…
Giggling with excitement and anxiety, Malon made the final touches to her appearance and, satisfied with one last look in her mirror, turned and made her way to the party to welcome the arriving guests.
She had never been so nervous in her life.
* * * *
It figures, Malon thought bitterly. A day of joy is always followed by a night of suffering. Lately, though, it seems the suffering is outnumbering the joy.
Sighing, she dipped the rag in cold water again and gingerly applied it to her swollen face and the cuts on her arms. Tonight had been worse than normal; Ingo’s alcohol propensities combined with his earlier defeat made for an especially dangerous fist.
Somehow, according to Ingo, at least, it was her fault that the green-clothed stranger had won Epona and managed to escape the ranch. “If it wasn’t for you, I would still have that dumb animal to honor Ganondorf with. But you had to be the whore you are and talk to that guy; you probably told him how to win against me in the race, you little slut!” he had yelled.
That, of course, had been emphasized with a barrage of punches, kicks, and even broken bottles, resulting in the multi-colored, swollen injuries Malon now confronted in the reflecting water. There was only one thought allowing her to keep her stoic composure.
At least Epona is free. Maybe someday, I’ll even be able to join her…
“Ha!” she laughed out right at that last thought. Obviously, the dreamer in her hadn’t been completely beaten down by Ingo. But then again…
Some people dream of freedom. Others dream of helping people achieve it. I’ve just given up hope on the former…and so have become the latter.
* * * *
The sun was beginning to make its daily descent behind the hillcrests, flooding all of Hyrule with a golden-rust glow. Gently whispering in his ear, the evening winds blew calmly across Hyrule Field and carried on towards Gerudo Valley. The small gurgling creek ran placidly by the bank, splashing a few drops of water on a pair of brown boots hanging from the edge of a rock. The day had been perfect.
The night, however…
Sighing heavily, Link ran one hand through his blond hair and looked skyward. A flock of sparrows passed noisily overhead, squawking and flapping in all their confusion, then passed on. Judging by the position of the fading sun, Link supposed he should make his way towards Lon Lon Ranch; he was already more than fashionably late.
And so, with a wafting, soothing melody on the Ocarina and a swift kick to Epona’s flank, he sped off towards the ranch, all the while wishing his heart would cease keeping time with Epona’s galloping hooves.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this apprehensive about anything before, he thought with a sigh.
Naryu, please guide me…
* * * *
Lightning clashed as rain pounded down upon the little, desolate ranch. Nearly drowned out by the sounds of the raging fury of the squall, a pair of small feet could hardly be heard running, tripping, sliding through the mud that now covered the ground.
The rain began to fall harder, faster, beating the small young woman to the soaking earth in the middle of the ranch field. Thunder clapped relentlessly and the wind whipped her hair around as if it had a life of its own and was trying to break free.
She wanted to get away, as far away as she could, from him.
Ingo.
It wasn’t worth it anymore; it wasn’t worth the beatings, the berating, the work, the abuse, both verbally and physically. Life just wasn’t worth it. Especially her life. The storm that night was ironically perfect: it was the culmination of everything she had kept hidden deep inside the past seven, almost eight, years, and it had finally shattered and broken free.
Who am I kidding, she thought bitterly. No one cares about me, no one even remembers that I’m out here, and father isn’t going to come back. Ever. Besides, I’m just as replaceable as a maimed horse.
Then, suddenly, she tasted something salty in her mouth. Tears.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
Thunder pounded in the sky as a bolt of lightning streaked the turbulent heavens. It seemed as if voices from the past and present were haunting her, calling out to her, with each clap of lightning. This night reminded her of so many nights past, nights before and during her imprisonment…
“You’re worthless, no good, useless. You’ll never amount to anything, wench!”
“Who’s that? Oh, it’s just that farm girl…”
“Sorry, travelers like myself don’t associate with your kind. No offense…”
“Stop!” she screamed, desperately begging the flashing lightning and brewing tempest. “I don’t want to remember those things! I want to forget them!”
“Malon, remember this song. Whenever you sing it, I’ll be right there with you…”
“Mother?” she whimpered aloud. “Mother, please help me! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”
“Why are you crying, whore?! Does it hurt?! I’ll show you what pain is…”
“…he treats the…the h-horses…so badly…”
“Why won’t you stop?! Stop it, please! I can’t take it anymore!” she yelled in anguish, grabbing her head and collapsing to the soggy earth as lightning once again streaked the sky.
“That’s a shame. There are some really beautiful…horses here. If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“What are you doing, miss? Oh I see. Praying for a miracle, you say? Do you think the goddesses will answer you?”
The lighting clashed again, illuminating the sky. A brilliant reflection could be seen glinting in the momentary brightness: an object enclosed in the white knuckled grip of her hand.
Her father’s knife…
“Please, rescue Epona from Mr. Ingo. She deserves to be free… like the wind. She needs…to live…”
“Keep wishing girl, ‘cuz that’s all you’re going to be able to do. You’ll never be free. Ever. No one wants a hideous, useless girl like you.”
“Please…stop…,” she cried, her hysteria giving way to sheer desolation and despair.
“This ranch is all you’ll ever have; you were born here, you’ll live here, you’ll die here. Pathetic…”
The sky clapped deafeningly loud and was illuminated once again. She was crying uncontrollably, helplessly, by now. “I just…” she sobbed, clutching the weapon in her hand. “I just want the pain to stop…it hurts so…so much…”
A streak of lightning flashed through the night heavens.
She raised the knife high above, intending to strike her wrist.
The blade fell swiftly and sharply down.
Intense sobbing mixed with the sounds of the storm as she pounded the soaking ground with her other fist. The knife lay deeply imbedded in the mud, not three centimeters from her pale wrist. “Why can’t I do it?!” she lamented. “WHY?!”
She took up the weapon once again, intending to fulfill the morbid task this time, when the storm suddenly began to disperse as quickly as it had come. The clouds dissipated in the rays of the sun, the wind’s howl turned to a whisper once again, and the raindrops ceased their tyrannical onslaught. Then she heard, or thought she heard, the soft sound of music drifting on the last tendrils of the fading breeze.
An Ocarina.
She began to cry again, but this time, she shed tears of anger, relief, anguish, happiness, wonder, and failure.
* * * *
Everything was going wonderfully, perfectly, exquisitely. Almost. There was one small setback to the evening thus far…
Where is he?! she wondered, her anxiety not apparent on her smiling façade.
Everyone, including the princess, had arrived, and the party was well underway by the time the moon could be seen rising in the distance. She had scanned the rather large room for what seemed like every two minutes, searching for that one grinning face. It was nowhere to be seen.
Dejected, Malon made her way towards one of the many tables set up outside the barn beside the crackling bonfire. A slight breeze stirred the treetops, toying with the tendrils of hair around her face and playing the shadows across her despondent form. Then, the soft sound of padding footsteps on the grass could be heard approaching. Probably just someone out for a stroll. It’s getting stuffy in there…she thought, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of autumn absorb her, entrance her.
“Hey, Malon! Sorry I’m late.”
Her eyes were open now. Turning slowly to greet the voice she had been longing to hear all evening, she froze when she saw him. It was like seeing him for the first time, all grown up, all over again. She was thinking the same thing now she had been thinking all those years ago.
He looks so good, it hurts…
It was then that she realized she had been staring. Snap out of it! “Oh hi, Faerie Boy! G..glad you could make it!”
He smiled in return as his best friend walked over and embraced him. Giving her the once over, he replied, “You look…absolutely…wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that dress on you before…”
“That’s because you haven’t! But thanks, it was my mother’s. And you don’t look so bad yourself there, either,” she rejoined, smiling and lightly cuffing him on the arm.
“Thanks, I suppose,” he answered, grinning. He then turned toward the entrance to the building and announced, “Well, I guess I better return you to the party!” He then offered his arm, which she accepted with a slight chuckle, and escorted her through the doors.
From the rapid pace of their hearts, however, one would think they had just run the entire length of Hyrule over and back again.
* * * *
“W…what happened to you?” his voice, filled with concern for this poor ranch girl standing in front of him now, managed to choke.
She froze. She hadn’t realized someone had been watching her as she filled the troughs. It was the morning after the storm, and, like with all gales, it was calm and peaceful in the wake. Slowly, she lifted her head to greet a pair of worried azure eyes; eyes she had last seen when Epona had been freed. Almost a year ago. Has it really been so long?
“You look like something…someone…” he began, then stopped, the tacit meaning of his words evident by the way his eyes hardened.
Quickly, she snapped out of her daze. “N…no! No. I just…last night, with the storm and all….it was a rough night,” she supplied meekly, unable to reveal to him the true reason for her poor appearance that afternoon. She decided to change the subject. “So, what brings you back to Lon Lon Ranch?”
His face visibly faltered at her question. “I…I’m not really sure, actually. I just felt like I needed to come back, you know, check on things, see how you were doing…” Great! Now you’re rambling. Better say something else before she gets suspicious. “Epona is really turning out to be a great horse. She’s the fastest animal I think I’ve ever seen. I wanted to come back and thank you for giving her to me, as well.”
She chuckled. “I didn’t give her to you, you won her and saved her, remember? I’ll never forget that day, when you set her free.”
He smiled in return. “Anything I could do to help,” he assured her. “Beautiful creatures like… her… should never be immured within an inescapable prison,” he whispered, dropping his voice so low she could barely discern his words.
A quiet silence fell over them, and all that could be heard for the next few minutes were the sounds of the horses whinnying, stamping their hooves, and the rustle of the gentle spring breeze against the side of the stables. Then, suddenly, Malon began to giggle to herself, as if she had remembered some private joke from long ago.
Needless to say, Link began regarding her with a quizzical, if not completely confused, look.
“I just realized I don’t even know you’re name. You’ve done so much for me and I’ve never once thanked you by name,” she told him, shaking her head at the silliness of it all. Imagine, knowing him for almost a year now and I still don’t know what to call him by…
“Link,” he replied softly, then his voice grew. “It’s Link. And I don’t believe I know you’re name, either.”
Now it was her turn to smile. “Malon. I’m Malon,” she returned. Then, eying his clothing with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “Maybe I’ll just start calling you Faerie Boy. It’s much easier to remember, I think…”
His countenance quickly became one of good-humored indignation. “Now, hold on there, that’s not very nice of you…”
Before he had a chance to finish his argument, however, she abruptly cut him off at the sound of a door banging. Ingo was coming to check on her progress.
“Well, sorry, Faerie Boy, but I think you’re going to have to learn to live with it. I’ve got to get back to work,” she explained, concealing the fear she felt by waving him away with a grin.
Nodding, he turned and made his way toward the double doors that lead to the exterior of the stables, but stopped as she called out to him. “Will I see you again soon?” she asked hastily, with a barely traceable touch of desperation. “I mean, life out here can get so lonely with no one to talk to…”
“Tomorrow sound good?” he answered, flashing her a smile.
Wonderfully good. “Yes, that sounds great!” she replied with a little more enthusiasm than necessary.
He nodded once and opened the door. Before he left, though, he waved and added, “See you tomorrow then, Malon.”
“Goodbye, Faerie Boy.”
And it was then that she knew she loved him.
* * * *
Once inside, the blond and redheaded pair did not, could not, stay together for more than a matter of seconds. As soon as they swept through the great wooden doors, eager hands, friendly smiles, and buzzing voices pulled them in opposite directions at once. Malon was ushered toward a group of family friends, while Link found himself in conversation with one of his very close companions, her royal highness: Princess Zelda.
The night was going splendidly for all. The music was intoxicating, the company gay, and the moon hanging in the darkened sky illuminated the ranch. Soon, to escape the inevitable stuffiness that eventually engulfed the room, everyone had moved outside to continue the dancing and fellowship.
In what seemed to be all too soon a time, however, the festivities were beginning to draw to the close of a very entertaining evening. Although it had been a very enjoyable time, and all things good must eventually come to an end, there was one rather significant problem with the night’s approaching conclusion…
I haven’t been able to tell him yet! No! Malon silently screamed with tears coming to her green eyes, willing the party to continue for another few hours but without success. He just arrived an hour ago, and now it’s already almost time to part company…
She desperately glanced across the room at Link, who was still conversing with the princess. Suddenly, a new resolve enveloped her as she watched his face break out into a smile at something Zelda had whispered. Filled with a new sense of purpose, she gathered all her courage and will power and proceeded to where he was standing. If the moment won’t just present itself without any manipulation, I guess I’ll have to make it present itself.
She was close, and drawing nearer every second. Then, just as she reached out to get Link’s attention…
“Malon!”
The sound of her father’s voice made her jump, sending her heart beat soaring into the sky. What now?! “Yes, daddy?” she asked, trying her best to conceal her vexation at her father’s intrusion.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” exasperated Talon. “We need more wood for the fire or I’m afraid it will be going out long before our guests are ready to leave. Would you please go get some wood from the pile?” he explained, pulling her off to the side of all the chattering.
“But, daddy, I…” she began, rapidly becoming fearful that her chance to confess her long-kept secret was diminishing before her very eyes.
A glare from her father silenced any further protest she was prepared to utilize in her defense. “Malon, I’m asking you to do one simple favor for me. Now please, don’t make me repeat myself,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle.
“Yes, daddy,” she sighed, helpless and defeated. I suppose I can spare a few moments to gather some wood. What difference is a few minutes going to make? she reasoned with a heavy heart. No one ever said love was a swift thing…
Nodding her head in resignation, she slowly made her way towards the far end of the corral where the wood was kept, her backside illuminated by the warm flames. But soon the dancing light from the fire had faded from her path, and she was left in darkness, with only the moon to serve as her lantern.
* * * *
After that day at the ranch, the Hero of Time, when not battling fearsome enemies or completing redoubtable tasks, could frequently be found at Lon Lon Ranch in the company of the beautiful red-haired girl. Day after day, the pair would be seen wandering together everywhere from Hyrule Field to Kakariko Village, always deeply engrossed in one conversation or another.
A year came and went in what seemed to be a day. Acquaintance grew to friendship, and friendship grew to an inseparable bond between two very lost souls. To the normal passerby, Malon and Link seemed to be, in every sense, two people who were destined for each other.
However, it ran much, much deeper than that.
* * * *
There. I think that’s the last piece of wood he’ll be needing for a while, Malon reassured herself, setting the last medium-sized log on top of a rather large firewood supply. I just hope I haven’t missed my chance…
The music continued to drift sweetly into the night air as she made her way back to the crowd of people standing outside the storage building. After informing her father that she had stacked all the wood near the fire, she began to wander in search of Link, who had seemed to have disappeared while she had been fulfilling her chore.
A half an hour later, about ready to cease her search out of sheer frustration, she turned back towards the voices wafting from the party and rounded the corner to the house.
And stopped dead in her tracks.
Concealing herself in the shadows created by the waning moonlight, she once again looked toward the sight. Tears were forming in her eyes and her suspicions were confirmed as the two figures shifted position and became clearer in the dim light. Link…
…and Princess Zelda.
The embracing couple did not notice, nor detect the sounds of, a broken heart shattering and tears of anguish spilling forth as their lips met in a kiss beneath the blanket of stars.
Malon ran, not to escape the agony of the scene, but to keep her grief of a crushed love from resounding across Hyrule, and from reaching the ears of the one she had loved, did love, with all her soul.
Dreams, and the happiness that accompany them, are simply not meant to come true for me, she thought ruefully. Ever.
* * * *
Link,
Please understand that I had to leave. I cannot tell you where, and I cannot tell you why. Just trust that I’ll be safe. I do not know when I will return, but until that time does come, just forget about me. Please take care of yourself, and be happy.
For God’s sake, be happy.
Love, Malon * * * *
When I was a child a story would say
I wanted to tell you that my heart’s in your hands
You had somebody else
From the moment I wake up ‘til I fall asleep
’Cause you have somebody else
I may never get to hold you so tight
I always will be wishing
©PYT 2001 * * * *
© Kat 2001
A Story by Kat
Somebody would sweep you off your feet some day
That’s what I hoped would happen with you
More than you could know
I prayed for the day that I would get the chance
But just when I worked up the courage to try
Much to my surprise
’Cause these feelings I keep to myself
I imagine you not with her but with me
Talking and laughing
Sharing our dreams
It’s just a fantasy
’Cause these feelings I keep to myself
I may never get to kiss you goodnight
I may never get to look deep in your eyes
Or so it seems
You were mine
I think about what could be all the time
All the happiness that I could find
A girl can dream