Chapter 11: The Faithful
When Link awoke from his slumber the first time, the night was new and different. The stillness of the dark brought to mind all the pains and sorrows he had placed to the back of his mind during the escape the night before. As the change settled over him, and the foreign scenery echoed with a haunting, unsettling novelty, the sting of knowing his father would never return came to his mind poignantly and without hesitation. It was all Link could do to keep himself from screaming in the night, and he wept again at the memory of his father’s passing.
When he woke again his face was hard from the tears drying against his face. The room was dark save for the fire that delicately cracked and rolled in the fireplace ahead. The fire brought warmth, but with it came reminders of the great flame that had swept through Hyrule. There was great pain mixed with its comfort.
He rubbed his cheeks and sat up, his hair standing on one end from his heavy sleeping. Across from him rested the Princess Zelda, slumbering so softly she could pass for a beautiful corpse.
Despite her clothes and the painful steps her servants took to subdue the radiance of her appearance, Link still found her beautiful. Her eyes were brilliant gems; her skin was soft and her body thin and fragile. It would be very difficult to rid her of the mark of royalty, which was in every part of her bones and blood.
As he watched her sleep he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. When he looked up he saw an old man standing above him, a distinguished look to him. He wore the finest red robes Link had ever seen, and bore the crest of the Triforce on his belly. He was slightly overweight, but carried it well, and had a strength to him that seemed sheathed and cloaked. Along his face was a well-maintained beard that wound from his lips around to his ears.
“Link,” the old man said, “I am Rauru, sage of Hyrule. Come with me.”
Link silently obeyed, rising from the chair and combing his messy hair with his fingers. Rauru took the lead, walking to the front door. Sitting silently by the door sat Impa, a thin pipe resting against her lips as she stared, deep in thought, into the space beyond.
Rauru opened the door, extending his hand for Link to exit first. He did, and the old man followed.
They traveled up and out of the cavernous inlet that shielded the house. The field above was delicate and calm as Rauru led them forward. The grass was still very low, and only met their ankles. After passing a short distance the sage turned to face Link with a look of sorrow in his eye the boy did not anticipate.
“First of all let me say this,” he began, “your father Link was the most noble warrior I have ever met. He did not deserve to die the way he did, but I am glad he is survived by you. If ever there was a noble man, you are certainly his son.”
At hearing this Link’s body shook, and he was powerless against the tears that began to stream down his face. Rauru, without hesitation, took the boy in his arms and held him close. He was warm and the fabrics of his robes were softer than he had ever felt before. When he breathed in he caught the fragrance of the Hyrule temple incense, and the smell of cinnamon and honey. The sage held the boy as he cried, giving him all the time he needed to expel his sadness.
When Link pulled away, Rauru wiped his nose and eyes with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief he brought out from his sleeve. “Please, sit with me,” he said as he took a seat against the grass and patted a spot right next to him.
Link sat beside him, and the grass felt cool as he pressed his hands against it to position himself. Rauru gave him a warm smile, and he felt a comfort from the old man he had thought he would never feel again.
