Crying Over Delivered Milk

Sunlight filters through green trees, a bright blue sky with a scattering of white clouds. Hyrule should be idyllic but it isn't. River, the blacksmith's wife, hoists her dress as she steps up the muddy ramp to Link's house. A small brown leather bag clinks on her hip. She stands at the door, smooths her golden hair and wipes her face, hoping her eyes are not too red. She has to put on a brave face for him. They may not share blood but Link is most certainly her son. Just days ago he started off on what should have been a simple delivery. A boy adept at smithing and sword play, natural talent hindered by his penchant for sleeping in. When she saw him last it struck her how much older he looks - no longer a child, instead a young man going to...

She laughs mirthlessly to herself under her breath. Her son has vowed to risk his life to save not only Gulley but several other kidnapped Hyrulians - descendants of the Seven Sages and Princess Zelda herself. Ludicrous! How she wishes it wasn't true.

The writhing, nervous energy in her chest has not subsided for days. She and her husband deal with their youngest son's disappearance in their own ways. She has to do things, keep her hands busy, keep her mind off things. She flits like a bird between different tasks. Melor withdraws into himself, unable to work. His eyes are as cold as the unlit furnace. In essence they have lost both of their sons - first Gulley vanished, then Link after him. They both worry. Hylia knows what Gulley is experiencing; and Link faces the unknown. She wrings her hands. Perhaps he should have been taught more swordplay. Perhaps they should have been harsher on him and encouraged him to pursue a career in defending the realm as a knight of Hyrule. But, then again, what good have such knights proved? There's nothing for it now. All she can do is provide her support.

She raises a fist to knock on the door, eyes absent mindedly scanning the poorly painted, rough wooden sign that has found itself on top of the roof of her son's house. As she nears the door her ears prick up at a noise; familiar and gut wrenching. A noise she hasn't heard in years. Her heart seizes.

Link is crying.

She knows he would be more than mortified for her to discover him like this, he'd always been an oddly proud boy. She knocks, as if pretending not to hear, giving the boy a moment to compose himself, should he wish.

"Link, I have some supplies for you... lunch, some milk. Rations for the road..." She lets the unasked question hang in the air.

The sobbing stops abruptly with a wet gasp followed by the scrabbling of feet. Confused, she backs up a little. She can see the shudder of the door as he presses his weight against it; his shadow seeping through the crack. The muffled, snotty breathing from behind it. It's as if he doesn't dare say anything.

She softens her voice. "I wasn't going to- I don't need to come in, dear. I can just leave the bag outside hanging on the scarecrow, ok?"

She feels the waves of his anxiety radiate through the door. He's clearly shaken.

"Is... everything alright? I mean- we can talk about- I would be happy to listen."

There's a rustle of fabric she interprets as some form of a dismissal. A wave of the hand or shake of the head.

"Ok," she takes a steadying breath and tries to compose herself. "Would you mind if I talk at you?" The question itself is a formality - a brief moment to arrange her thoughts.

"I can't imagine what you're going through. Your... quest isn't easy. What you've overcome astounds me. You've grown so much in such a short amount of time. I'm- we're so proud of you. And I'm sure Gulley would tell you that if he was here too-"
Her voice cracks and she swallows thickly to avoid her voice shaking further.
"What you have to do; the world you've been thrown into is... scary. The idea scares me! And the courage with which you're taking it on is amazing, please know you don't have to do all of this on your own, ok? I'm here, we're all here for you.. You can be a... a hero and still ask for help. You can be scared. You don't have to do everything yourself. You don't have to recklessly throw yourself into fights you can't win, ok? You can run. Just come home safe."