A tired and ironic “Ha.” was all the boy could muster. His legs and hips
lost every bit of strength they had, making him slide against the cold
stonewall into a sitting position. His head slumped forward, his arms limped
at his sides, his face hid behind his hat’s shadow. He looked like a
discarded doll in the early rays of the newly rising sun. A tear silently
dropped to the ground. So that was the reason why the hag had adopted him.
She was drunk; she had lost a bet, was forced to adopt and randomly selected
and signed an adoption paper. Link’s adoption paper. And he was actually
excited and eager to meet his foster parent, not realising she felt the
exact opposite. Another tear escaped his closed eyelids. Link coughed out a
humourless laugh again and wiped back his tears.
Funny. I promised myself I’ll never cry again and look at me now. Weeping
like a baby. More tears tried to shove their way through Link’s eyes but he
blinked them away, unwilling to give in to them. He felt for his flute under
his shirt and gripped it, forcing out any kind of comfort it can offer. It
gave none. Only its voice was able to give anything. A wave of tears almost
crashed onto Link. He surely would have cried if he hadn’t pinched himself.
“Miss you Mum. Wish you were here Dad.” He started playing his flute, giving
out random notes as he went. But only a proper song would give him comfort,
and he knew that. But he just too miserable to think of a song to play. He
gave out a shuddering sigh and looked up into the still grey sky.
It was starting to snow.
“Wow.” chuckled Link, “Things can’t get any worse surely?” The specks of snow on the mud reminded him of the Furry Trio. Dirt, Wind and Timid. And . . . Naia. Link’s heart slightly became warmer at the thought of her. But then, he questioned himself: Why? It took a few seconds for him to realise. Because she’s your friend. Sub-consciously he got out of his hypnotic stance, put on his old leather boots and walked toward the clearing wear he and Naia had first met.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
As Link walked, he faintly heard music. It was a violin. He realised he had
been hearing it for quite a time but hadn’t grasped it because it had
started so faintly. He decided to follow the sweet notes, hoping to see the
player. As the music grew louder and clearer, he’d noticed that he didn’t
feel as sorrowful as he was before. Link came up to a wall of bushes, and
the sound of string against bow couldn’t be clearer. He or she’s behind
here! Link tried to scramble through, but it was too bushy. And in attempt
to go through, he had snapped a massive twig, making the performer stop in a
semi-note. Link swore under his breath. He heard a bowstring tense its grip
around an arrow, and a familiar voice exclaim from the other side.
“Who’s there?” Link couldn’t believe his luck.
“Naia?”
“ . . . . Link?” Clump. Clump. Clump. Her sturdy travelling boots were
making an unusually loud noise. “Isn’t it a little early for a noble to be
awake?” The boy looked up to find his friend up in a tree (so that’s why her
boots made such noise!), equipped with a two bows, (one for playing, the
other for shooting) a quiver of arrows and a violin. Her scarf was over her
nose and mouth again, making her looking like a deadly huntress. Link smiled
ironically and pointed at himself.
“Do I look like a noble to you?” Naia shrugged her shoulders in reply.
“You looked like one yesterday. Want some tea? It’d be nice to have someone
for company for a change.”
“That’d be really nice thanks.”
“Come on over” then she added “if you dare” with a fake sinister tone and
disappeared onto the other side. Link happily jumped onto a nearby tree, and
hopped onto the other side. It was a different clearing to the one where
Link had meat Naia. Instead of a full-grown tree, it had a dead tree and a
stump, looking very forlorn in the grey area. It had a sort of miniature
fire with a metal pot boiling with a greenish brown liquid on top of it. Two
wooden cups were placed beside it, ready to serve anything they wished. Naia
noticed she was packing away her violin into the dead tree. Link guessed
straight away that this was her storage.
“You’re pretty good with that.” He pointed.
“Bin playing it since I can remember. You play anything?” Naia didn’t like
information about her leaking out, so she altered the subject from her to
Link.
“Yeah. A flute that my dad made for me. What kind of tea is that anyway?” he
pointed towards the pot. It smelt very minty and cool, just like the specks
of snow that was falling down on them.
“That? That’s a herb known as ‘Lace pile’ used mainly for seasoning meat and
roasted fruit. But I like it as tea.” She poured some for both of them.
“Enjoy.” She lowered her scarf and sipped some from her cup and gazed
towards the grey, silver specked sky. Link looked at his cup’s insides with
suspicion. He took a little sip and was surprised like hell. It fizzed up
his nose like a coke would, and unlike its smell, it had a spicy, fruit-like
taste to it. It woke him up in seconds.
“Wow.” Link gasped,
“I know. Got the same reaction when I first tried it too.” She sipped again,
and helped herself to another cup. “you like it?”
“Din yes!” he took his time finishing his tea and lay onto the cold ground,
his heart warm with pleasure. If only I didn’t have to go home. . . Sorrow
quickly enveloped him at the mention of the word ‘home’. Where was his home
exactly? Not in the hag’s house, not in the orphanage, and not in his old
house either. Then where? He started chocking on humourless laughter again.
“You okay down there?” Naia asked.
“Nope.” He replied,
“Why not?” she enquired,
“You won’t understand.” Was his answer
“How do you know?” she persisted
“Just know.” He said
“Still helps to talk.” Naia countered back.
“Fine. I’ll talk.” He frowned at her, “You’re good with arguments aren’t
you?” Naia looked away, uncaring.
“Always argue with myself. Now talk. I’m all ears.” So Link explained.
“Ok. I’m not really a noble. One adopted me. Her name’s Clarinda Igbo. You
know her?”
“Whole town does. She’s the richest here. She organises all the security
guards and farmers in the town. Any way, keep going.”
“Turns out, she only adopted me because she was drunk and lost a bet.”
“Ouch.” Was her response
“I feel so stupid! I mean, why didn’t I figure it out?”
“Because no one has such a sick mind as a drunkard.” Link laughed at the
joke. He agreed with Naia with everything he had. Naia rested her head onto
her hands and watched him with interested. “Why were you adopted?”
“I think she randomly chose the adoption papers.”
“No. I meant why did you need to be adopted?” Link sighed at the question.
He had feared this one most.
“I’m an orphan. My parents died with a sickness. They died about . . . 4
years ago.” Naia twitched. Link didn’t seem to notice, so he just kept
talking. “Mum was very sweet. She taught me how to be nice to animals. I
guess that’s why Timid trusted me. She had a gift for playing music. She
always thought of new songs for the village carnivals.” Naia was now visibly
shaking. Her hands were scrunched into fists and she was biting her lip to
control herself.
“Cut it out . . .” she whispered. Link didn’t hear her.
“And dad was head protector of our village. He taught me how to sword play,
and I always whipped the other kids into butter. While he wasn’t doing his
shifts, I helped him with our crops and animals. Boy that was fun. He made a
flute for mum as well. He was pretty good with crafts.” Naia started shaking
her head, willing herself not to listen,
“Stop it . . .” she hissed a little louder. Link didn’t hear her.
“And my old horse! She was beau. . .”
“SHUT UP!!!” Naia screamed. She whipped out an arrow, held it like a dagger
and stabbed into the ground where Link’s head was seconds ago. If he hadn’t
rolled away, he surely would have been killed. As Link panted in shock, Naia
strained to say something
“How . . .” her words were laboured,
“What?”
“HOW CAN YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR PARENTS LIKE THAT!!??” she shrieked. Link was
completely taken aback. Did he say something upsetting? “How long was it
since your parents died? 4 years? I don’t understand.” she huffed. Her face
was red, and tears were streaming down her face. Her voice went back down to
moderate volume. “I lost my parents too. They died when I was five. This is
the tenth year since they’ve died. And yet, every time I think about them,
it hurts. Why doesn’t it hurt you? How can you not cry when you think about
them? This is so unfair . . .” her voice was reduced to whispers. Instead of
words, sobs streamed out of her mouth. Her eyes flooded with tears and Naia
desperately tried to hide them with her hands. She tried to blink them away,
willing them not to come out. But it was too late. They kept coming like a
flood and soon she crumbled down to the ground, her tears mixing with the
new patches of snow. Link understood her pain. At least, a fragment of it.
It must have been hard to keep it all down. The grief, the torment, and the
sorrow of losing the people that you loved so much. At such a young age too.
He cautiously crawled towards her crying heap, not wanting an arrow
protruding form from his heart, brain, or throat. She lifted her head and
faced him. Link saw her tear stained face, and realised he really didn’t
know what she was going through. She clung to his sleeve and wept again.
“Since they died, I always lived here. All alone. I haven’t had a Hylian
friend since ever. I almost forgot how to smile. Mum taught me how to archer
and steal. Dad taught me how to sneak around and read and write. It helped a
lot, got me through physically hard times, but . . .” Link could just barely
hear her hiccuped voice, “they never taught me how to feel happy when
everything was rock bottom. Not like your parents taught you. I miss them so
much. I want them to teach me more, but they’re not here. They’re not here
Link. And it just kills me to think that they never will be. Not ever.
Ever!” She dived into his shoulders and erupted into tears. They just sat
there in the falling snow, waiting for Naia to calm herself. Link wanted to
say something. Anything to get rid of her long-term sorrow.
“Hey. At least, you have a friend now right? I’ll share your sorrow with
you. That’s what friends do. You consider me a friend. Don’t you?” Naia
looked him in the eye with her orange ones and she slowly nodded a ‘yes’
