The procession had wound through the city like a solemn but
unerring snake, weaving through district after district toward the castle gate.
The few remaining souls who had lingered in the alleyways were rewarded for
their curiosity by seeing firsthand the robe-wrapped body of the queen borne on
the arms of twelve monks, the shield of the Captain of the Royal Guard resting
upon her. The news had been spoken in the alleys, then in the houses, from the
windows, from the rooftops. “The Queen is dead!” came the cry. “The Queen is
dead, and her Captain! Mourn ye, for evil doth visit your houses this night.”
Wilted weeping hung from the candle-lit windows like funerary banners.
The events of that night had not faded one ounce from Zelda’s mind. Nor had the
sight of her mother’s form being laid out in a straight-boat the next morning,
her face and body wreathed in coniferous branches, the boat being pushed out
into Lake Hylia, the unnatural calm of the water, the
unnatural brightness of the flame as it caught the branches, the unnatural
thickness of the smoke had that robbed Zelda of her last glimpses of her
mother. Only when the boat sank into the water did the smoke clear. But it was
too late; she could no longer see. All that remained were the crowds of people
on the piers, jutting out onto the lake. Zelda did not recognize most of them.
“Who are they?” Zelda had asked her nursemaid.
“Your mother had many subjects, all of whom she regarded as her family,” Impa had told Zelda. “They were like her own children. As queen
she was the mother of many.”
“Well, I only ever had one mother,” Zelda had replied, “and now she’s gone.”
And ever since, this image was all that Zelda saw: her mother’s body claimed by
smoke, fire and water.
* * *
After the ceremony Impa escorted Zelda to the
graveyard in Kakariko village where Delphineas Zora had brought the
queen’s body to be entombed. “I only wish I could have done the same for my
wife, Nayru keep her,” said the Zora
king, recalling what Lutai had revealed concerning
the circumstances of his wife’s death. “You truly had a remarkable mother,
Princess of the Hylia.”
Zelda could not bring herself to smile, but she offered her thanks to the Zora king before he returned to the hidden waterways of Hyrule. Then Zelda was alone with her nursemaid.
For some time Zelda stared at the stone pillar with the names of the members of
the Hylian Royal Family—her mother’s name was the
most recently carved of these; Zelda marveled at the
nearness of it. Then she shuddered at the thought that her name would one day
be on this pillar; a testament in stone that she had lived. Yet, the cold,
unyielding stone could never personify her…or her mother; it could never tell
of the queen’s selflessness, her devotion to the Goddesses, or the sacrifices
she made to serve her people. Zelda could not help but think that she was one
of those sacrifices…and her face bent in an uneven frown as she choked on her
regrets, catching them in her hands as they fell away from her, leaving her
hollow.
Zelda was grateful that her father’s name had not joined her mother’s on the
cold, blank stone. Impa had explained that the
soldiers who protected her father had been reinforced by the Darknaughts once they had finally come to, and they had
kept him secure while the soldiers drove the remaining thieves from the town.
Then, as Zelda was lost in thought, she heard a voice she had almost forgotten.
“I heard…” Link stood by, letting Zelda have a moment to assimilate his
presence. “I…I’m really sorry.”
From anyone else it would have seemed false, but from Link—who truly understood
what it was like to lose the most important figure in your life—it was real.
Then, all at once the decisions Zelda had made that led to this end came
flooding back to her; it had been she who had sent Link to get the Spiritual
Stones, she had given him the Ocarina, she had let Ganondorf
into the temple…
“I…I wanted to help…” she mumbled, her mouth straining to form words through
the grief-wracking memories. “I just had a dream and I…I didn’t know, I didn’t
know…” Her mumbles faded into weary sobs.
Then Link put his hand on Zelda’s shoulder and all at once she fell into his
young arms with no more resistance than tissue, and seemingly just as fragile.
This reminded Link of something very familiar.
“She reminds me of you, you know…” he said, tentatively. Zelda pulled away from
Link’s chest. Judging from her expression, Link realized he would have to
explain. He looked at her tear-stained face kindly. “When you were older, you
looked just like your mom. When I saw her for the first time I thought she was
you…I thought I hadn’t gone back in time…but I had.” Link hoped this offering
was enough.
Zelda looked past Link, at the lawn between the gravestones. “…really?” she
asked. Link nodded. Then, before Zelda’s face could settle on a smile, it
contorted as a new stream of memories filled her mind. Link held her again,
squeezing her gently to show her he wouldn’t leave.
Once she regained her composure she pulled away again, speaking between uneven
breaths. “Im…Impa woke me
up this morning,” she said. Then Link’s face told her it was her turn to
explain. “She would always wake me up,” said Zelda, looking at her mother’s
name on the stone pillar again. “My father would always tuck me in at night,
and my mother would always come in to wake me up in the morning…sometimes I
would wake up on my own and just pretend I was asleep." Zelda looked at
her hands. “Sometimes she would stay with me so long the Sheiks would have to
remind her it was time to attend to her duties.” Zelda was lost in thought for
a moment, remembering pleasant memories, and she laughed—a soft, pure laugh
that made Link feel as if the world could never have been cloudy.
“She always came to me in the morning,” Zelda repeated. And in that
moment, though she did not know it, Zelda had decided that her children would
always know her as the morning; full of new light and new life; and full of
joy—the joy of knowing that no matter how pressing the affairs of the people a
mother’s place was with her daughter. And Zelda resolved to love the Hylia as her mother had—with the love of a mother for her
child.
* * *
That day as evening neared, Zelda and Link rode away from Kakariko,
across the fields of Hyrule; Link on Epona and Zelda on a new foal gifted to her by Malon. Impa rode some way behind
them, aloof, but observant.
“I have to go,” said Link.
“What?” said Princess Zelda, confused. “But we just started.”
“No, I mean I have to go. I need to…find someone.”
Zelda frowned. Of all the people that had offered her sympathy in the past
days, Link was the only one Zelda really wanted to talk to. Not even Malon could understand her. Link knew exactly what had
happened to her mother, and she felt he would be the only one she might ever be
able to rely on. And now he was leaving?
“What for?” Zelda asked, disbelieving.
Link was silent for a moment. “Do…do you remember when I first met you? You
knew who I was because I had a fairy. Well…now I can’t find her.”
“Link, she probably just went back to the forest to be with the Koroki…”
“No,” he said abruptly. Then his expression softened. “A Koroki’s
fairy is like his soul. She was my fairy. I…I have to find her…”
“Link, you’re not…”
“I know!” he blurted, kicking Epona forward. Zelda
watched Link as he slowed down a little ways ahead and then stopped, his head
bowing.
Little pools gathered in Zelda’s eyes. She looked away and then drew her hand
across her face. Then she urged her foal ahead to where Link was. She noticed
that he rubbed his eyes before she pulled her horse to a halt next to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this is important to you." Zelda thought a
moment. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know…” he said, staring off over Hyrule
field. “Probably to parts of the forest I’ve never been. I don’t know where
she’ll be.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked quietly.
“Not long, I hope…” Half his mouth smiled. The other half didn’t know whether
it could.
Zelda inhaled slowly and then let it out all at once. “Then I have something
for you,” she said.
“Really?” he said, taken aback. “What?”
“This,” she said, pulling a small blue ocarina from her saddle bags.
“Is…is this…?” he asked, taking the instrument gingerly from her.
“Yes.”
“But how…?”
“Rauru recovered it from your other self after he was
sealed in the Sacred Realm,” Zelda said. “It was important that it not be
lost.” Zelda sounded like she was quoting Impa.
Then a thought occurred to Link. “What do you think will happen to him…the
other me, I mean?”
Zelda shrugged. “Not even Impa and Rauru can guess. Maybe he’ll wake up in seven years, maybe
he’ll sleep forever…”
Link stared through the grass. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to meet
myself…” he said. “I wonder what I’d be like…”
“Well, if the other you is anything like this one…” she began, blushing. Then
she guided her horse nearer to Epona. Leaning over
she kissed Link’s cheek. Link’s face turned hot and he couldn’t move.
“Um…” he said, finally recovering. “I have to go, now…”
“You’re leaving already?” she said dejectedly.
Link nodded slowly. “I’m all packed up at the ranch.”
Zelda looked at him as if it was the last time she’d ever see him, taking in
the sight of his hair as it stuck out of his green cap, his shoulders as they
bore up his Hero’s Shield, his oversized green tunic, cinched at the waist.
“Just be careful,” she said. “And come back. Even though it was only a short
time…I feel like I’ve known you for…Well, I won’t forget you, anyway.”
“I’ll come back. Don’t worry,” Link said.
“Yes,” she said, smiling half-heartedly, nodding. “Of course you will…”
Half of Link’s mouth smiled again. “I’ll see you, then.” And he turned Epona back toward Lon Lon Ranch.
“If something should happen to you, Link, just remember the Goddess of Time.
She’s protecting you!”
Link turned to Zelda, smiling, framed by the glowing orb as it set behind the
low eastern mountains. And as he rode away toward Lon Lon
Ranch, Zelda could hear the breathy alto notes of the Ocarina floating across
the fields of Hyrule.
~fin~