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My dear Mavourneen,
Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are that we’re able to exchange letters—happy, of course, but surprised. This journey is a bit more… extensive, than the ones I’ve taken before. Turns out a portal made of darkness can traverse more than just physical space. Who knew? I’m in a new land, one I suspect is just Hyrule’s past (or its future, you know how time can get around me). It’s not as safe as I know you’d like, but if it were, I doubt we’d be here.
Yes, we. I’m not the only hero this time. I suppose the Goddess finally realized that there’s strength in numbers and that She should stop sending lone children, huh? I don’t have much paper at the moment, but as soon as I find more, I’ll tell you all about the others. They’re going to need quite a bit of paper.
How is Epona doing? And your father? And you, of course. Stay safe while I’m out here. I swear I’ll find a way to visit—it seems whatever brought us here likes to bounce between eras. Until then, Malon.
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
Since he’s just saved the lot of us, I think I’ll start by telling you about the Champion in this one—or as the younger ones call him, Wild. It’s certainly fitting. He’s a… unique character, that’s for sure. Quite the survivalist, and I’ve never seen skills like his with a bow and arrow before.
(I should mention—we tend to go by our hero titles around each other, since it seems a prerequisite for being a hero of courage is being named Link. Very original of Hylia, huh?).
Wild comes from an era far beyond any of the rest of us, and he carries around unique skills and items. I didn’t know what to make of him at first. He’s got this strange device called a “Sheikah Slate” which takes perfect images of people and things and uses what’s probably magic to do so (though Wild insists it’s just technology, which earns him a lot of skeptics).
NEVER leave him alone with things that make fire, by the way. That merits its own line.
He’s very much an absolute terror to his enemies, and I’d never leave him as supervision for anyone else, but Wild’s a capable warrior. His adventure involved the loss of every single one of his memories—family, friends, personality… he doesn’t speak of it much, but it’s obvious it bothers him on occasion, even if some memories have returned. The way he lost them isn’t pleasant either. I’m impressed by his ability to persevere.
I mentioned that he saved all of us—without his archery skills, we would have likely been outnumbered last night. He shot three arrows at once without breaking a sweat, and I’m absolutely positive he’s got some sort of time manipulation ability, since he shoots even faster when he’s falling through the air. I’ve said it already, but he’s impressive.
He doesn’t just help the group by shooting things and using Sheikah magic, though. He’s a unique hero for a lot of reasons.
….He’s also the only one of us who can make food that tastes good, which is extremely valued.
If Wild offers to help make a meal or outright cook it for you, say yes. I’ve no clue where he learned, but we more or less rely on him completely so that we don’t starve at this point. One or two of us can make palatable meals, one of us should never touch a cooking pot, and the rest simply aren’t great, but Wild is unbelievable.
(Don’t make him mad. He dumped Goron spice in dinner one night and nearly destroyed Four’s sinuses permanently over some teasing. I won’t say he was wrong, but that might be because I didn’t mind the heat.)
But I’m nearly out of paper, so I’ll leave off. Don’t worry too much about me while I’m out here, okay? I can take care of myself even when I’m busy stopping the younger ones from lighting a forest on fire. I miss you every day, love. I hope we get near the ranch soon.
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
Since he’s the reason we have downtime—I believe we’re a couple thousand years before you or I are even born, resting at a blacksmith for the night as I write—I believe I’ll tell you about our smallest hero. He calls himself the Hero of the Four Sword, but I think I know one of his other titles: Hero of Men. Remember telling me the legends of that one? He’s only sixteen, as it turns out, and that’s quite a bit older than he was when he started.
If he does have “the strength of four men combined” he hasn’t shown it overmuch, though at times I wonder… he’s barely taller than the Master Sword is long, Malon. Poor kid gets made fun of a bit by the others for that, though it’s slowed down considerably since he punched the worst offender below the belt.
Four’s interesting, for someone our era loves to put on a pedestal. Quiet. Secretive (not that I can say anything). Wise for his age, certainly, but who among us isn’t? The history is accurate—he’s a talented blacksmith, and learned from his grandfather. There are things about his journeys he won’t recount (again, not that I can say anything) but I somehow ended up being the one who knows how he has the strength of four men combined. For his sake, I won’t tell, but suffice to say it’s different than the legends you told me.
He’s more responsible than most of them, too, which is helpful when I have to be separated and can’t act as supervision—I’m one of four legal adults out of nine people, can you believe that I’m the one who has to be responsible? You’d like him, he’s a hardworking and honest kid. If you ask Four to get something done, it’ll be done. Unless he’s mad at you for whatever reason, then don’t count on the finished product actually working.
Four was a little hard to pin down at first. He seems to fluctuate between emotions rather quickly at times, usually when we’ve had a long day, but once you’re used to the fluctuations he’s not quite as mysterious. He’s mature, and intelligent, but he is still a teenager. I’m glad he’s kept a few of the traits someone his age should have.
All in all, a responsible kid and honorable hero, if a bit strange. He likes to sit on the counter in his kitchen to eat breakfast, apparently, and his grandfather simply works around him when that happens. He also talks to nothing on occasion (I swear I’ve seen his shadow move on its own, too, but that’s not really my business, is it?).
As for our journey, it’s getting… stranger. The other day, we encountered a Moblin that refused to go down until all nine of us had gone at it. I alone should have been able to kill it—any of us alone should have been able to. I’m beginning to think it wasn’t an isolated incident, either. Keep a wary eye out for me, okay? (Also, I walked away relatively unscathed, no need to worry. The forest was full of fairies, and you know how they are to me).
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
I’ve made an interesting discovery about a member of the group, so I suppose I’ll just tell you everything about him in one go. The Hero of the Skies—just Sky, really—is kind and soft-spoken when you first meet him. The thing that I paid the most attention to in our first conversation is the sword he carries, and I’m a little ashamed to admit that it took over a lot of my perception of him.
He forged the Master Sword into what it is, Malon. I’m sure you understand why I was more than a little wary of him at first, though I’m not using that as an excuse.
Sky is very much the quintessential hero—matter of fact, he’s the original hero of courage. He started his quest before the country Hyrule even existed because his best friend disappeared and forged the Master Sword in the process of that. It has a soul, apparently. A spirit that befriended and guided him, so he sees it as an ally. I suppose he was old enough for it…
There I go again. Sky is easy to blame, but that doesn’t mean I should, and that certainly doesn’t mean he’s easy to stay mad at. Despite all he’s been through, he’s genuinely a forgiving and friendly person—and he gives excellent hugs at the drop of a hat, but that’s beside the point. It’s easy to underestimate him, but I’ve discovered today that he has more than a bit of bite to him.
Wild… I haven’t mentioned this before, but he’s got a talent for breaking things. Not an insult, just a statement of fact. This talent happens to extend to the Master Sword—it reappeared not even ten minutes after he shattered it into nothing, which was a relief, but you should have seen Sky. I’ve never seen someone switch from jovial to furious so fast. It was slightly terrifying.
That was my revelation. Sky comes off as the quintessential hero from legends, the role model, the man on a pedestal, kind and quiet and easy to blame—but he’s got so much more depth than that. He’s fiercely protective of those who protect him, and the sword… I never met the spirit, as you know. I don’t know her true nature. Sky is the only one who truly does, I think, and she must have done a lot for him.
I think I can let myself be friends with him now.
You’d like Sky a lot, actually, but I do have one warning: he’s got no idea how dangerous cuccos are. He wants to hug them. We might have to hold him in the house for safekeeping should we all end up at the ranch.
I love you, and I miss you. Please don’t let your father name either of the new foals—the world can only handle so many Links, no matter how determined he is to do me “a favor”. Please. I know you’re thinking about it. He already named a cucco after me. If the boys find out about that, I’ll never hear the end of it.
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
Here I go again, telling you all about whichever hero comes to mind first. At this rate I’ll be able to make an encyclopedia out of just these specific letters. It’s late right now, but I just came off my watch shift and can’t sleep, so I figured I may as well write to you—but before you fuss over me, I’m not the only one up this late. The Hero of Twilight is living up to his name and acting outright nocturnal not too far away from me.
Twilight is something of a big brother figure for the younger ones, being third oldest and the most experienced with taking care of family, blood-related or not. He grew up in a farming town (and I’m aware telling you that might lead to the slightest bit of bias) so he understands the concept of community much more than most of the others. He’s mature for his age and also unfairly strong since—before you think I’m childish for this—he never received any sort of strength-enhancing item like I did, and I’ve seen him literally throw boulders the size of his torso. I bet he could give you a run for your rupees in an arm-wrestling contest. No, really.
This is going to sound strange, but I’ve started a mental list of which of the boys I can safely leave in charge depending on who’s left. Twilight’s right at the top, but if he’s gone, Sky’s in charge by proxy of actually being listened to. Sky leaves, it’s Warriors—who tends to get heckled by Legend when that happens, hence why Sky is above him—and beyond that… it’s anarchy. I don’t know what I’d do without Twilight to be in charge. Go grey prematurely?
(Wild, despite being Sky’s age… ish, is not and never will be on the adult supervision list. He can’t even supervise himself. I saw him lick a frog).
As I said, Twilight’s very much a big brother figure, and that’s precisely why he’s up right now. I’ve told you that Wild went through a lot. He had a nightmare not long before I came back from watch. Twilight’s good at giving comfort for that sort of thing—and he’s got a special soft spot for Wild, as we suspect our Champion comes right after him in the line of heroes—so he’s staying up to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ll tell him to get some rest soon.
He stuck his tongue out at me. I partially take back what I said about his maturity.
Twilight’s also just as secretive as the rest of us, but he’s somewhat worse at keeping said secrets. He’s got a rather obvious one that three of us know about already, and I’m sure at least one other suspects (for his sake, I won’t tell you unless he decides to share). There’s a lot else he obviously isn’t up to telling me. Us, I meant. The other heroes.
It’s strange, but it feels different when I think of him compared to the rest. Twilight’s unique—we all are—but I don’t know why he’s so unique to me. I really must be getting old—I’m basically his mentor at this point. If this were one of those cheesy adventure novels your father loves so much, I’d be concerned for my own well-being as a walking trope.
I miss you, Malon, more every day the last time we saw each other gets farther away. Whatever has made it necessary for the Goddess to call all of Her heroes together like this, I’ll personally make sure it never crawls out of whatever hole it came from again so I can come home as soon as possible. The boys will help—they’ve got homes too. Somebody should tell the Goddess that, huh?
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
Have I told you that they call me “Old Man”? Affectionately, of course, but still. I’ve been denying it good-naturedly, but I don’t think I can do that anymore, because I certainly acted like an old man up until now. I already knew two of these Links and forgot about it. You’re almost definitely laughing at me, and I deserve it—the Captain especially isn’t the sort of man you forget.
I’ve told you about him before, I think, but he’s changed a bit from when I met him (and my narrative is probably a little off anyway, I’m sure everyone not from his era was meant to forget about that war). He still has that same scarf and somewhat-inadvisable low armor, but he’s strong as ever. Warriors is what he goes by now. Funny, I never noticed as a child, but he’s definitely what you specifically would call a city boy.
It’s also funny that I can think of him as a “boy” now, and not the older one. I’m half a head taller and physically around five years older, not the gremlin he met—and I don’t think he’s realized, which might be my favorite part. I’m not going to tell him, either, and don’t make that face! I was an absolute terror at that age and I know it. Warriors hasn’t mentioned much about his companions back then, but he also never leaves his bedroll where any of us can get it, so…
But to change the topic, he really hasn’t changed too much. He’s still a natural leader, good with kids, but he’s learned how to have a bit more fun since I left. You should see him and Twilight snipe at each other, it’s actually entertaining—and he got his hands on a fire rod again not long ago, which… perhaps doesn’t bode well for my heart health, but it’s nice to see someone who used to be so quiet laugh out loud with friends.
I haven’t told you about what happened to him during the war, have I? A faction of Hyrulean forces were tricked, bribed, or coerced, I’m not sure which, into betraying their crown and attempting to kill him. I wasn’t there at the time. I didn’t see what he had to do, but I saw the aftermath in his eyes. He’s gotten better—but I didn’t know how much at the beginning of all this, and that hurts. I wasn’t sure how well he’d take to having to trust us with his life for however long this lasts.
He had a little trouble trusting even me, back then.
But he did end up trusting us, and I’m proud that he was able to do that. Warriors is someone I would never underestimate on the battlefield and never hesitate to trust in that situation. It’s a relief that he realizes there are people like that for him, not just following him. Now, if he could just see past his own nose and stop teasing people like Wild and Legend so much, he’d walk away with fewer injuries from making friends.
There I go rambling again. You’re easy to talk to, Malon, even when you’re not physically here with me. They asked about my ring the other day—only took the lot several weeks to notice I have one—but I didn’t tell them too much about you. I’ve got to keep my mysterious aura going, after all, but I know they’d love to meet you. You really would love them too.
Who knows, maybe we’ll end up back at the ranch soon. I hope so. Tell Epona I say hi, and give her some extra carrots for me.
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
Remember the very first time you tried to teach me how to cook? Poor Talon… I don’t think he’s ever looked at me quite the same way—but that’s beside the point. I’ve discovered someone worse than me at long last, so you should have those twenty rupees you owe me ready next time I’m home.
I’m kidding.
Mostly.
And I’m not making fun of our Traveler hero, either—he’s very sweet, but I didn’t know it was possible to make stew that watery with meat that… mysterious in origin. Yes, I ate it. I’m not dead yet, so I think it’s fine. Wild took a hit and couldn’t cook, so Hyrule—yes, that’s what we call him, and yes, he does get odd looks in towns—volunteered. We’ve learned to just take the one recipe Twilight knows instead of trying to get variety.
It’s not very fair of me to only talk about Hyrule by warning you away from his cooking, though, so I might as well let myself ramble about one of the boys again. Hyrule is an interesting hero—his era is more dangerous than almost any other, maybe excluding Wild’s, so you’d expect him to be some jaded, scarred-up warrior, but he isn’t. He’s soft-spoken, and curious, and has a love of adventure to rival me when I was that age.
(He’s also deceptively destructive in battle, but that’s not the biggest part of who he is).
When I met Hyrule, I could swear he was the most skittish… anything I’ve ever encountered. I don’t blame him, not with the way his home is, but he refused to sleep nearby the rest of camp for a week. I’m not actually sure where he slept (or if he even slept at all). He didn’t touch anybody for two weeks, and barely spoke unless spoken to just in general. I was worried, but busy, and it’s not like he let anyone close enough to get past his shell.
Then Wild, bless him, actually managed it.
I mentioned their homes are similar in terms of danger. Ironically, both heroes are major explorers—turn your back on either one for two seconds and they’re gone without a trace. Hyrule survived on his own for years and lived in a cave when we found him, and Wild had to navigate and survive in a world he didn’t recognize all on his own. I should have figured they’d make friends. Make no mistake, I’m glad Wild was able to get Hyrule to open up! It’s a very good thing for team dynamics and Hyrule’s mental health.
I just wish they didn’t get lost to do it…
We spent an entire day looking for those two after a “wood-gathering trip” either went wrong or went right, depending on who you ask. I strongly suspect Hyrule was trying to get away for a bit and latched onto Wild as a kindred spirit (which, technically, we all are—but I digress). I’m relatively calm about all this now that we’ve found them, but Warriors fell in a puddle while searching and was fairly put out about it.
Hyrule actually sat next to me of his own volition when we stopped to eat not long after that, though, so even Warriors couldn’t stay upset.
Once you get him out of his shell, Hyrule might be the most resourceful hero out of all of us. The stew was certainly… improvised. He fights like someone who learned on the fly, but he’s always open to new tricks—I wouldn’t want to be the one who backs him into a corner, either, since he tends to play dirty. Hyrule even does magic all on his own without any items at all (including healing spells, which get used exactly as much as you think. He’s good at it). It’s impressive how brave and humble he is.
In case you’re worried, Wild’s fine. He said himself he’s got a thick skull, and if he can joke, he can live. The fight today was uneventful besides that—I’m okay too. I’ve certainly seen worse. Also, I keep forgetting to mention this, but please tell me you were kidding about letting your father name the foals. Malon, please say you were kidding. I love you so much. Don’t let him think he can get away with “Lonk.”
-your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
In my defense, the foal issue distracted me. You’re getting two letters back-to-back because there’s another hero I wanted to tell you about along with Hyrule—Wind. I never mentioned how Wild got hurt before, but in classic hero fashion, he put himself in the path of a blade for someone else. Also in classic hero fashion, Wind didn’t appreciate someone getting hurt for his sake.
Wind is the youngest out of all of us, but he’s already got two adventures under his belt (and a third one pending, but none of us will count this current one until it’s over). He’s a little pirate. I’m not being sarcastic, he’s quite literally a member of a pirate crew. I remember his captain from the war—interesting girl, but never one to cross. I don’t think Wind has fought in the War of Eras yet (and if I’m right, the little gremlin knew who both Warriors and I were the entire time—he was a bit cryptic sometimes… dammit, I AM right. He fooled me). He doesn’t look much younger than he did back then, though. I hope he gets a decent amount of rest. He still has a very real chance to be a kid, and he should take it.
If he was reading this, he’d kick me in the shins. He doesn’t like being reminded of his age compared to the rest of us. He didn’t exactly yell at Wild today… but he wasn’t happy about it, either, and I can understand. I would have fought anyone who tried to hold me back at that age. I didn’t learn until it was too late that no matter how mature you are, being a kid is important. I hope Wind can understand that sooner than I did.
Wind tends to be headstrong, but that’s mostly him trying to prove himself to the lot of us. He’s curious—gets along well with Four, who’s second youngest—and though he downplays it, he’s still a kid at heart. Warriors carries him around on his shoulders sometimes. He’s got this item, the Wind Waker—looks like just a tiny white baton, but he controls the winds with it. He also makes lovely music. I’ve been challenged to a duet, by the way (and I do mean challenged. Magical songs are something we both know, and Wind insists his are more impressive. I hope he likes the Song of Storms…).
Really, I meant it when I said Wind still has a real chance to be a kid. He just won’t take it because he feels like he has to grow up to be respected. I know Twilight’s mentioned something about it to him, as well as Warriors—but they both started their journeys at a semi-reasonable age, not twelve. The rest haven’t touched the issue. It really should be broached, I’m just not sure how.
He might actually listen to me, though, because of something I’ve figured out about him recently. I won’t get into all of it here—I’m not trying to dredge up memories of when Four tried to line everything up, that was a bad day—but our timeline of heroes is… less than linear, and it’s mostly my fault. Whoops, I guess. There’s the timeline I married you in, which leads to Twilight eventually, a timeline that leads to Legend and Hyrule where… I died, and the timeline I left behind after my first adventure—that’s Wind and, we think, Warriors.
(Don’t ask about Wild. We can’t figure out where he is and I doubt we ever will).
At any rate, Wind and Warriors are the only heroes left whose eras actually remember me as a hero. Warriors’ is much more distant, but Wind—well, the only reason he was wearing hero’s clothes for his journey is because it’s tradition on his home island for young boys to honor the Hero of Time by dressing as him. Me.
You can laugh.
I got this from Wind’s grandmother, by the way. I think he’d rather crash his own ship than tell me—but my point is: Wind remembers me as a hero. I…
I don’t know what to do with that. I know he looks up to me. That’s not even what trips me up, though. He remembers me. As funny and sort-of embarrassing the whole clothing tradition is, it means they remember me. I…
I guess I didn’t know how much I wanted that feeling before I connected the dots with Wind. I’ve never been a hero for the glory, but just once—just one time, by Hylia—I’ve always wished that just once someone would really know what happened for a reason other than me telling them. I love you and Talon so much, and you’ll never know just how much you believing me meant—and means—to me.
But Malon, it’s just so nice to know there’s a timeline out there where I’m still a hero.
—your Fairy Boy
—
My dear Mavourneen,
I met another old friend from the War of Eras today. Remember that bunny-hooded merchant I told you about? The one who tried to sell me a hammer twice my height? He didn’t recognize me, Wind, or Warriors, so I suppose he hasn’t fought yet. He’s certainly still as eccentric as when I knew him. Legend’s letting him stay in his house—which reminds me, I haven’t told you much about Legend yet, have I? I’m sure he’d shank me for that—and for being last—so I should do it now.
Legend is not easy to get to know. I’m not being mean-spirited, he purposely pushes people away. When I met him, he didn’t speak more than three consecutive words to any of us, and when he did speak—well, he’s not an unkind person, but he’s very blunt. We call him Veteran sometimes. I’m sure you can guess why. He’s been on five quests not counting this one, though he never talks about the fifth. Five! That’s an unreal number to me—I can’t imagine going through something like my first quest multiple times, let alone the second. We also call him Hoarder, but in our defense, Legend’s house looks like several dozen dungeons exploded in there. I’ve never seen so many items.
Once you break down his walls a little, Legend gets easier to read. He’s got a very similar attitude towards Hylia as me, seeing as She’s the reason he’s been on so many quests and, quote, “has the joints of an old man and the attitude of one”.
(Really, he can pop every single joint in his body on command, and it terrifies me. I just don’t show it as much as Warriors, so I’m never a target).
Legend’s prickly, and clearly not used to working as a team—not that I am either, honestly—but he’s a fierce fighter, and he’s got enough magic items to put himself on the same level as some of the strongest monsters we face. You’d think, with all his experience, he’d be arrogant, but he isn’t. I think once he saw that we are all capable warriors he was more open to… well, being open, and to trusting us. He’s still pretty blunt, but now he acts more like a brother than just a traveling acquaintance.
Legend’s never truly mean-spirited, even if he sometimes can’t tell when to stop. I was concerned at first—Sky especially is someone he tends to snipe at, and I thought it would end poorly. As it turns out, Sky doesn’t mind having prickly friends. I suppose he’s just kind enough for all of us (Warriors, on the other hand, just snipes right back—it’s sort of entertaining to watch them try to one-up each other).
There’s one person Legend never tries to needle, however—Hyrule. I mentioned our “lump of dropped noodles”, as Four calls the timeline, most likely puts Hyrule and Legend in the same branch. We suspect Hyrule comes after Legend, as he has similar tales passed down (though, not too many) and you should have seen the look on Legend’s face when we figured that out.
Hyrule was nervous about it—I think he thought Legend might get upset, since his era is so damaged and that’s the kingdom Legend leaves behind eventually—Legend didn’t say a word about it. At least, not where the rest of us could hear. You didn’t hear this from me, but Twilight’s a good eavesdropper (unintentionally, most of the time) and he told me Legend snagged Hyrule late one night to go talk. I won’t give you everything he heard, but Legend said he was more impressed that the kingdom survived without a hero for as long as it did and that Hyrule should be proud he put it back together.
I’m proud of him for actually buckling down and being serious when someone else needed reassurance. There’s nothing wrong with having a prickly disposition, but I think Legend needed to remember that the entire world isn’t to blame for everything he’s gone through.
At any rate, everyone knows Legend has a soft spot for Hyrule the size of Castle Town, but we also all know that he’d rather jump out of a tree than admit it. It’s almost funny when he does something like stop Hyrule from overextending his magic and then turns around to cover for it with an insult.
...almost.
Make me wonder what happened the last time he let himself openly care for someone else’s wellbeing, in any capacity.
I can usually feel it when there’s another of those portals nearby. There’s a buzz in my bones and a sort of intuition that won’t go away, so wherever the new one is, it’s somewhat close. I hope we get close to the ranch when we go through—granted, sometimes they drop us in less-than-ideal situations. We might end up falling through the hayloft, or into the bullpen, and Legend wears bright red mail. That second one would go poorly.
I’m daydreaming again… I miss you, Malon. I love you. I can’t believe you let your father go through with naming that poor foal. What did I ever do to you?
(I’m kidding, dearest. But, at the same time… why).
—your Fairy Boy
—
“Wild, would you mind doing me a favor and hunting through the attic for the good tableware? I’m a little busy at the moment,” said Malon, somehow managing to make holding the squirming Aria look easy. For a two-and-a-half-year-old, the kid could climb like a monkey and tended to be just as curious.
Wild set the bag of flour he’d already retrieved down and gave Malon an affirmative thumbs-up, already headed for the hallway and the ceiling trapdoor that would give him access. If he hadn’t insisted on arriving early to help cook, he wouldn’t be hauling quite so much stuff around, but Wild would rather have broken a bone trying to get all the supplies they needed to cook for—how many now, twenty-one?—than arrive later and not be able to make something spectacular.
Still would have been nice if I didn’t leave the Slate with Zelda, Magnesis would come in handy…
Time and Malon’s attic was a dusty, only-somewhat-organized affair, being largely untouched outside of special occasions. Wild climbed up the pull-down ladder and almost immediately banged his head on a weapons rack—fortunately, an empty one. Time’s sharp things were kept much farther from the entrance.
“Box of good forks, where’d you go…” Wild mumbled, starting his search for the tableware Malon wanted. The wall of boxes and crates yielded nothing but old pictures, some of Time’s masks which Wild certainly wasn’t tempted to touch, some broken furniture that Time probably insisted he’d get around to fixing “eventually”, and other such things—but no good tableware.
Then Wild spotted a small wooden box with a hasp tucked away on top of a basket of spare blankets and figured that was probably it, so he snatched it up immediately. Bad plan.
“Ack!”
The latch, old and rusted, fell right open when Wild grabbed the box—promptly dumping several dozen yellowed envelopes and sheets of folded paper all over the floor and causing even more of a mess in the attic. Wild sneezed so violently at the resulting dust that he knocked himself over, ending up right in the middle of the pile of papers with watery eyes and no tableware.
Ow. Not my proudest moment.
Wild started carefully gathering the fallen papers, but froze when he saw his own name—or rather, his nickname—repeated several times on one set of yellowy paper. A quick examination of the dates written on some of the envelopes told him they were several years old, written… written back during his adventure with the others. They were all addressed by pet names he didn’t recognize, but Malon’s name and address was on about half of the envelopes, so Wild figured it was safe to assume Time wrote them.
So why was Wild’s name so sparse in the other pages but not the specific letter he’d grabbed first?
Wild sat there motionless for a bit, trying to decide what to do. His days of using his amnesia as an excuse to break social rules were long gone, as Zelda often brought up with much exasperation, but… no, he couldn’t.
My dear Mavourneen,
Since he’s just saved the lot of us, I think I’ll start by telling you about the Champion in this one—or as the younger ones call him, Wild. It’s certainly fitting. He’s a… unique character, that’s for sure. Quite the survivalist, and I’ve never seen skills like his with a bow and arrow before…
Yeah, he could.
Wild read through the letter with increasingly wet eyes, chuckling a little at Time’s description of him. It was certainly accurate. But…
He’s impressed by me?
The attack Time described had been fairly early in their journey. He had already held Wild in high regard by that point? Already respected him so much?
Belatedly, Wild realized he was so touched that tears were threatening to fall. He reached for another letter that had looked to be talking about Sky, an idea forming in his mind.
—
“Pa!” said Aria, reaching for Time’s bangs where they flopped just past her hands. That was about all she ever said, despite knowing how to say other words—she seemed to have inherited Time’s natural silence—but every time she said it, his heart melted just a little more.
“Sorry, little song, you can’t play with my hair right now,” he told her, carefully shifting the weight in his arms before heading upstairs. Aria had to get a nap in before people besides Wild started arriving for the anniversary dinner, or else she’d get grumpy. Time knew he’d already be tired by the end of the day even without a grumpy Aria insisting the world needed to hear her impression of a much cuter ReDead.
“Pa,” she said reprovingly, settling for trying to chew on his shirt. When that was thwarted, she went for her own fist instead, which Time allowed. Malon kept saying she would need to break the thumb-sucking habit eventually to make sure her adult teeth grew in right, but Time could hardly refuse his daughter a less-destructive comfort mechanism (and she looked adorable like that, but that was beside the point).
“Do you want a song, honey?” Time asked, opening the door to Aria’s room one-handed and carefully stepping over the scattered toys—she loved to test how far different stuffed animals would fly.
In lieu of a verbal response, Aria yawned widely and snuggled further into his chest. Time had to fight not to make a noise.
“Okay, here you go,” he said, gently setting her down on the handmade blankets and retrieving one of her favorite stuffed animals—a horse, as she was her mother’s daughter. “Get some sleep, little song.”
Please let her go to sleep right away, please let her go to sleep right away-
Luckily, Time wasn’t summoned back to his daughter’s room as he left it, so he took that as a small blessing. He’d do anything for Aria—but it would be nice if she just went to sleep when she was supposed to all the time.
Downstairs, Malon was thumbing through a much-loved cookbook and giving her father different tasks to prepare the way a general commands her troops—and though their early arrival was nowhere to be seen, Time knew Wild was likely already the subject of Malon’s orders. Time stopped for a moment in the doorway, just watching her talk and busily bookmark different pages, an unconscious smile stretching across his lips.
“Hm? Oh, there you are,” said Malon, bookmarking one last page and stepping over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “She’s asleep?”
“Fortunately.”
“Phew. We should have put her down sooner, really, but somebody wanted to help her draw…” said Malon, glancing back at where her father was double-checking his list of things to do against Malon’s.
“That’s a noble and understandable cause,” said Time with his serious face on. Malon kissed him again, dissolving it immediately. “At least she’s asleep now. For how long, who knows.”
Malon sighed. “Kids are like that. Now, I’ve got a chore list for you too—just because the rest will be here in an hour doesn’t mean you get nothing, there’s still plenty—but could you go check on Wild? The attic seems to have swallowed him.”
“I’ll do that. Flora might get a little destructive looking for him if I don’t,” joked Time, brushing past his wife while she snickered (Flora actually had gotten a bit destructive at last year’s anniversary dinner, but that was because of a spar and a bet, not losing track of Wild).
The ladder was already down when Time made it to where the trapdoor was, but he heard no shuffling around. He stuck his head up through the opening a moment later and immediately banged his head with a curse—ah, the weapons rack. He’d been meaning to move that.
“Time?” Wild’s voice sounded thick with dust, coming from somewhere past the old couch Time needed to get around to fixing.
“Thought the attic sucked you in, Wild. Need some help?” Time asked, hoisting himself into the attic with a small wince. His joints weren’t quite what they used to be…
“Uh, sure. Malon wanted me to find the good tableware.”
Time found Wild a moment later, digging through a basket of spare blankets for some reason. “Tableware’s on the shelves on the left side of the attic, Wild. We’ve moved it since last year—Malon must have forgotten to tell you.”
“Ohhhhhh,” said Wild, drawing out the response and shaking some dust from his hair. He handed the basket back to Time’s outstretched hand somewhat sheepishly. “Thanks. I’ll get that.”
But when a moment passed of Time trying to make sure the basket stayed up on the box he balanced it on and Wild hadn’t left, it became clear something was up.
“Something wrong, Wild?”
“No, not really,” said Wild awkwardly. “Just… lost in some memories, I guess. You know how it is. I… thanks, Time.”
“For telling you where to find the good-”
“Not. That too, I mean, but no,” said Wild hastily. “Just… in general, I guess. You were a really good source of support when we all got thrown together.”
Time knew Wild’s memory recall could get disorienting, even for things after he originally died, so he was extra gentle when he smiled and patted Wild’s shoulder. “You’re welcome, Wild.”
“Just—yeah, what I said before,” said Wild sheepishly. “I’ll go now.”
He walked away somewhat stiffly, and Time could have sworn he heard the shifting of paper—but that was absurd. Wild wasn’t carrying anything, and he probably wasn’t wearing a shirt made of paper under his tunic.
I really am getting old…
—
Time’s “normal” days were calm and sweet—farm work, spending time with Aria, good food and better company. They were also few and far between, since the boys took every opportunity to visit, but Time didn’t really mind.
The arrival of Flora to the dinner triggered the start of the chaos. Time somehow—he wasn’t sure how—became an island in a sea of moving people. A curious Aria clung to his shirt and watched everything go down with wide eyes. She blinked up at Time owlishly, as if wondering why he didn’t move.
You try moving through all this, he thought, letting her latch on to one of his fingers for entertainment. Wind darted past a moment later on the run from Warriors—who had whipped cream in his hair and a vengeful look on his face.
“See, that’s why you stay on the sidelines around these lunatics,” Time said conversationally, backing out the door so he could stay on the back porch and not be in the way. Aria made a curious noise and kept playing with his fingers, watching the backyard still.
“Fo,” she said very seriously, pointing. Time spotted the signs of someone small elbowing people in the kidneys to get through the crowd and Four appeared moments later, looking very rumpled.
“You’ll hit a growth spurt eventually,” Time said, hiding a grin.
“Sure I will,” said Four with a groan, pulling himself up to sit on the railing next to Time. “Hey, pocketwatch. Keeping an eye on us?”
Time sighed heavily while Aria cheerfully made grabby hands until Four let her grab his hand. “Are you going to keep calling her that?”
“She’s a tiny Time, it makes sense,” insisted Four.
Whatever he had been about to say next was cut off by Wind screeching bloody murder—Warriors had finally caught up to him for the whipped cream incident and was returning the favor. Time spotted Tetra’s darkening face across the way and silently thanked his past self for forbidding all weapons from anniversary or reunion dinners.
Warriors would probably get hit with something regardless, but at least that “something” wouldn’t be a cutlass.
“Time?” said Four after a long moment, taking his hand back from Aria for the sake of twiddling his thumbs nervously.
“What is it?”
Four was silent for another long moment. “Uh… thanks. I’ve been thinking about that last quest recently. Even in the beginning, when we all hardly knew each other, you always trusted me to get the job done right even though I was younger than almost all of us. So… thanks.”
Time blinked, somewhat taken aback by the sudden sincerity. “You’re welcome, Four. You deserve that respect and trust, you know.”
The soft smile on Four’s face made all the confusion disappear. He’d said the right thing.
But then Four disappeared with Dot, Malon appeared and took Aria with her (“Dear, it’s my turn”) and Sky was somehow next to Time, his face unreadable.
“I’ve always appreciated your ability to see the bigger picture,” he said kindly, before disappearing just like Four had.
Time continued to receive confusing, but heartfelt, statements from his fellow heroes as the bustling night went on. Someone would walk up, say something nice, and disappear completely, leaving Time more befuddled each time.
Twilight: “Thank you. Your guidance since we’ve met means more to me than you know.”
Warriors: “You made a terrifying little brother back when you were Mask, but I always appreciated that you were there.”
Hyrule: “Thanks for having faith in me back when we met. I wasn’t… used to people really trusting me, but you helped change that.”
Wind: “I tell your stories to everyone I meet while Tetra and I work on New Hyrule. You deserve to have people who look up to your legend.”
Legend just hugged him silently for a mere second, but the silence—as it did with every Link—spoke volumes.
By the time the night was over, Time was ready to just fall over and go straight to sleep from the confusion and exhaustion—however fun it was to have everyone over, dear Hylia did it make a mess—but he reflexively went over everything he’d have to do regardless. No sleep yet.
Actually, come to think of it… It was Malon’s turn to put Aria to bed. He could just fall over—so he did.
But, of course, Time didn’t go to sleep right away. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the abnormal behavior of his fellow heroes over and over. They’d all been heartfelt, which was appreciated, but so specific…
Eventually, Time just sighed and let it be. Clearly, he had helped bring all of the boys peace of mind at some point. What did it matter why they had decided to mention it? Maybe, like Wild, they simply all got caught up in nostalgia.
Mind settled, Time finally let himself drift off to sleep, content.
—
“Dear, I forgot to mention last night, but was Wild supposed to come downstairs carrying so many envelopes? He pretended not to hear me when I asked why one fell out of his pocket.”
“Goddess-blasted—I should have known none of them would show genuine emotion without prompting. No, he wasn’t.”