The Memories Between Them | ✔

6) Fragile

⚔ In which one family is forgotten, and one is found ⚔  

Zelda

A few days pass, and word of another celebration begins to circulate. The year's end celebration. But after so much work went into the feast for Link and I, they decide to keep it among the families. Link and I don't mind.

We spend the days in the stable. I'm able to attach Star's saddle, and Link helps me onto it. We go for short rides through the village, so I can get reaccustomed to the feeling of riding again. It's easier than I thought it would be. Link tells me be thought the same thing about using a sword, and that his muscles remembered how to do it for him. He leads Star by the reigns and walks slowly.

We talk about a bunch of things, letting each other ramble about something or another. Mostly, though, I'm listening to him talk about the world, and his adventures. He mentions a Rito bard that helped him learn about the Champions, talks about the Divine Beasts, but is strangely quiet when talking about what he encountered inside. I decide not to push him about it.

We have another, smaller history lesson. I tell him about what Hateno used to be like, the trade routes that he tells me don't even exist anymore, what items came from certain areas, and how people traveled to sell their wares. He seems particularly interested in these things.

And the next celebration gets closer. Impa tells us it's a end of the year celebration, a time of giving thanks to the goddesses for their blessings.

I glance sidelong at Link. I can tell he's thinking the same: they bless the townsfolk but abandon their chosen ones. Of course, nothing is said out loud.

The celebration seems quiet enough. The streets of the town are abandoned, and lanterns are lit inside the homes for dinner. Impa and Paya insist we eat with them, but Link has other plans, insisting we give them some time to themselves. I don't argue.

Instead, Link takes a table by the cooking pot outside, and makes something for the two of us.

"I've never heard the town so quiet," I say, trying to make conversation.

He hums in response, stirring the food.

"Something on your mind?" I ask carefully.

He sighs. "So much."

"Give me one thing."

He stops for a moment and looks up. "Was fruitcake really your favorite food?" he asks.

I laugh. "That's what you're thinking about? Where did you hear that?"

He chuckles. "Read it in an old cookbook I found in the castle. I made it, and when I tried it, it... felt so strange. Sad and happy, like returning home. But there was no home there. It was just cake."

I nearly choke up at the notion, the fact he could explain it so easily.

"My body remembers a lot of things," he continues when I remain silent. "Like swinging a sword, certain places or songs and dances. It's like I saw ghosts wherever I went. But my mind doesn't remember hardly anything. I guess my tongue remembered the taste of fruitcake, but I couldn't recall the last time I had any. And I couldn't tell... why it reminded me so much of you, even though I didn't know who you were."

"I- I'm sorry," is all I can say. I can't imagine how hard it must've been for him to wander through the world and constantly see ghosts, have these flashes of recognition but have no idea where they come from or why they happen.

"No, it's alright," he says quickly. "Honestly, I don't know why I said anything. But... Is fruitcake your favorite?" he asks.

I chuckle again. "Yes, it is."