Chapter Text
Oh have you heard of this great sword of old
That will hold fast our kingdom forever
And with great knowledge make the wielders bold
Be our support, hold us up, failing never
The wondrous Sword of Legend
It fought beasts on land and it scoured the seas
And six great quests has it attended on
Wielders cut down all their en’mies with ease
Without it our great kingdom would be gone,
Save for the Sword of Legend
Now come and hear tell of this hero of old
Whose name is gone and lost to legends past
A story we tell as always it was told
And therefore will his memory ever last
Wielder of Sword of Legend
In world of battle was this hero born
He came to fight and forged a mighty sword
And with the noise of his resounding horn
Called us to fight against a monstrous horde
Raised up the Sword of Legend
The good soldier’s background is dark and dim
And has been lost to time’s unrav’ling end
Few things are there that we do know of him
But that his honor drew him to defend
Us with the Sword of Legend
The city lay besieged, the kingdom scorched
About him wrath and ruin fell like waves
He raised his sword up like a mighty torch
And called the townsfolk to pick up their staves
Beside the Sword of Legend
The fight dragged on as if t’would never end
Our good soldiers were flagging from the fight
This true hero was then a goddess-send
He brought the kingdom back its mighty light
Empowr’d with the Sword of Legend
The battle won, the en’my routed out
He dropped his sword down on the dusty ground
Eternal safety would he bring about
But the great man himself was fin’ly downed
Put down the Sword of Legend
As he did breathe his last, he turned to bless
The mighty sword which now protects our land
Which such great pow’r imbued it doth possess
Will be endow’d to who has it in hand
And wields the Sword of Legend
The moment his hand touched the hilt of the ancient sword, Link knew something had changed.
He couldn’t tell what, exactly- he hadn’t grown into his natural magic quite yet, at least not all the way, and his meager learning could only take him so far.
This was Before- before the adventure, and the princess, before the Chain and the family it brought him. This was before, and all he knew as he held the hilt of the sword that would alter the shape of his destiny, was that something had changed.
Link knew better than to waste an opportunity, a resource, a good weapon. He lifted the blade, sheath and all, and strapped it to his back with the discarded cord he had been using as a belt. As he connected it carefully to his body, something was connecting in the back of his mind too- not exactly a presence, not exactly alive, but something that was being. Something active, something waking from dormancy to peer sleepily at the young boy who had just connected their threads of fate together.
A long forgotten sword woke up.
And later that day a boy went to sleep, sword at his side, trusting it (and what strength he had) to protect him.
Link woke up to the unfortunate feeling of a damp blanket. He rolled over, trying to ignore it, but the more he attempted to go back to sleep, the more noticeable it was. Cold and condensation drove him to start the day.
Sitting up, he made sure to do his usual checks- his bucket was by the cave wall, his bag was near the entrance, there was a small pile of wood sitting uselessly at the back wall, his knife was next to his bedroll-
And the sword was laid out on his other side, scabbard gleaming slightly in the faint sunbeam that streaked through the entrance to the cave.
He smiled. A bad morning had just gotten better.
It had been a few days since he found the sword, and he hadn’t quite decided if he wanted to name it or not. It looked very important, the sort of sword a hero might use on a quest to save the world. It did not look like the kind of sword that belonged lying next to Link in a dirty cave.
His things were all there, he wasn’t hurting any more than usual- it was time for breakfast.
Link knew exactly which berries would make him sick, which were safe but tasted bad, and which would probably kill him. It was important to remember, so every night he repeated the information in his head before going to sleep.
There was a new list, now. Things he would probably have to do to take care of the sword.
He wasn’t quite sure how to take care of swords. They were much bigger and more important than knives, but he did know how to keep his knife clean and sharp. That would have to work for now, until he had the supplies to stop by a town.
“Good morning,” Link said quietly to the sword on his back, once he felt awake enough to start talking without losing track of his surroundings. Sometimes he was like that- it had been a long time since he’s had a reason to talk, and starting again was hard. But a lot of things were hard, so Link didn’t let that stop him. “We’re out getting berries and bark and roots. If we find enough, then we’ll head back home. If not, I’ll try and get some sort of animal. I’m glad you don’t need food,” he joked, “ ‘cause then we’d be in trouble. Although, I guess you could probably get your own food, if you needed it. You look very powerful.”
And it went on like that. Evenings by the one uncorrupted pool of water Link had found, the sword propped up on the bank while he rambled on about the woods, about the day, about whatever thoughts he was having. He told the sword all the stories he remembered, and tried to make up new ones. Stories were some of the things he liked to repeat in his head before he went to sleep.
Sometimes, he liked to think about the hero that the sword belonged to. Someone tall and strong, probably, and maybe even nice. Someone with big glittering armor and a horse, someone who would drive the monsters away and make the woods safe for little creatures again. Make the woods safe for him, maybe.
He thought the sword deserved someone like that. He couldn’t wait to meet them, when they came to take it back.
During the worst nights, Link liked to imagine the knight trading him something for the sword. Giving him some kind of reward, or something. That wasn’t why he was doing it, of course, but he would daydream about beautiful warm pastries, and thick long cloaks, and maybe even a real waterskin.
When he felt really sad, he would wrap his arms around himself and think of the hero giving him a hug, maybe, for keeping their sword safe. Think about them ruffling his hair and saying something like good job, kid, and maybe-
Maybe even taking him with them.
It didn’t end up feeling right to name the sword. It probably had a name, a very heroic one, and Link didn’t want to mess that up for it. Maybe it would be mad, if he tried to call it something dumb. He didn’t want to risk it.
You’re not very friendly, he wanted to say to the sword, on some of his worse nights. Nights when anger rose up in him to hum in his chest, and he didn’t know where it came from or why it was stronger than him.
Why wont you talk to me? (He knew why, he wasn’t stupid. It hurt anyways.)
You’re going to leave.
He knew it was true, of course. He didn’t like thinking about it, but then, there were a lot of things Link didn’t like thinking about.
So he didn’t. He rambled on, starting to say his lists out loud every night instead of in his head, and the sword listened.
No matter what, the sword always listened.