World Tree MUSH

  Spring is slow coming to the mountains, but it always comes around, in the end. Despite being dramatically later than anywhere else in Hyrule, temperatures have started to thaw some of the ubiquitous snowdrifts and ice packs. There have even been birds singing in the trees, and flashes of bright scarlet or blue as they flit from bough to bough.

  Down behind the manor are the remains of an apple orchard. Although it's been left fallow for generations, the trees had been well-established, gnarled boughs still enduring through winter, with no help from the world of men.

  It's here the princess has gone. If he goes looking for her, the Sacred Beast will find her seated at the foot of a tree on the cold, hard ground. It might not be warm, but it's still nice to breathe fresh air and feel the sun warming her. Zelda has a parchment spread across her lap, intently sketching something and marking notes on it.

  Any observers over her shoulder would find a map of southern Hyrule, specifically the whole of Faron Province, apparently sketched from memory. She might not be the most well-travelled princess, but she does have an excellent head for remembering things, including the geography of her kingdom.

  There's a route marked on it, but it's not very straight or sure. Swaths of the forest have been slashed out with hatching; these, presumably, are areas she knows or suspects are afflicted by the Twilight. The route she's marking avoids them as best they can, though a few do cut somewhat close.

  There's a stoneware mug of something hot cradled in the crook of her elbow, the one that holds the parchment. The fragrant steam smells like tea, and something sweet; honey, perhaps. There's also a strong note, suggestive of a tiny, tiny splash of whisky.

  If it takes any edges off of her, though, it doesn't show. Her expression is one of intent concentration as she checks and re-checks her route.

When he's paying attention to it, Link doesn't let Zelda wander too far unattended. He doesn't always follow at an observable distance, but usually he meanders after at scent range at bare minimum. Today he pads out after her into the remains of the orchard openly, with a rather bloody-looking bone in his mouth. It doubtlessly came from something freshly-killed, and from the size of it it was probably another of the white wolfos that inhabits the area. By now enough of them have been killed that Link began to wonder whether or not he ought to stop, just so there's still a population of them later.

There are other ways to eat now, and the passes aren't so dangerous, after all.

Link comes up on Zelda noisily, not particularly interested in spooking her or remaining hidden in general. He rounds the tree and lays down next to her, gnawing a little noisily at the bone. It's probably the first time she's seen him do this, though he's been audible chewing on things in some hidden corner -- or outside a window -- a few times.

Don't plan too hard. He advises her, a little absent-mindedly. The fact that he doesn't need to use his mouth to talk has long since settled in, so Link doesn't mind doing other things while conversing this way.

Good to have a plan, but I don't reckon it's going to survive contact. So don't be too particular about it. Set up enough ya know what we're doing and how we're gonna do it and be prepared to improvise from there.

Then again, maybe you were already doin' that. Don't know, just got here.

The Sacred Beast picks his head up a little to look over towards Zelda's map. After a moment's analysis, he adds, Sometimes it's safer to go through a little twilight than to stray along the border. They seem ta like settin' up goons to drag folks in along the borders, but the middling areas are usually empty. Tho, I don't know if our friends would handle it well or not.

  "Consider it a refresher in Faron Province's geography," the princess murmurs distractedly. The precise flick of a wrist corrects the line of a border. "I have not actually been there personally, so a map would be helpful for me. There isn't one in the library," she adds, by way of explanation, "and I remember enough of my lessons to make a rough copy."

  She pauses, holding it at arm's length to fix it with a critical eye. "It's hardly perfect, but better than nothing, I suppose. No, I wasn't planning on infiltrating Faron Wood by any particular route." Zelda rolls the map up with a quick, practised motion of both hands. Setting the map aside, she folds her hands over her stomach, leaning back against the tree and closing her eyes. "The sun feels good," she murmurs.

  Silence settles over the orchard, broken only by the distant, lonely cry of a hawk. She can hear him gnawing on the bone, the sound somehow louder for the silence. "They have a tendency to ignore the smaller patches of the Twilight," Zelda agrees, settling more comfortably into the apple tree's roots. "They're more interested in the roads, judging by what I've seen from afar. Either Zant is naive, or his creatures are; the thought that we would actively avoid the roads doesn't seem to occur to them. Not yet, anyway."

  A sigh, one that flutters the bit of hair that's fallen in front of her face. "Mmn. As to our friends, I couldn't say. So long as nobody does anything idiot-brained like run after them to engage them, I think we'll be alright. I intend to caution everyone on the need for speed and secrecy once we've set out for Faron... but I am not ready yet."

  "There are still repairs in progress, here, and I would see those completed before we leave. And I must gather my strength. Crossing the forest will not be half so difficult as crossing the mountains, but it will require our focus. The outermost borders of Faron Wood are no more than a stone's throw from Hyrule Field." She shrugs one shoulder, lazily. "Zant will be watching... but I am not concerned. The trees should provide sufficient cover, and the closer we draw to Ordona, the better you will know the country."

  She falls silent for a moment before reaching up to fold her arms behind her head. Her eyes don't open. "Well, if you had ever wanted to see the rest of Hyrule, I suppose that's some good to come out of all of this, yes?"

I reckon you're right, and considerin' how things tend to go for us I figure there's a good chance on getting separated once we get there. I know my way 'round just fine, but you'll want somethin' like that on hand. Can't say my natural know-how is going to be much help for a map, though. We just figure our way around the woods by wanderin' around, gettin' lost, and findin' our way back. Link replies, glancing sideways at Zelda as she surveys her own work and snaps it shut.

Don't think he cares, He replies on the subject of Zant, and I don't reckon his people care much either, if he's the kinda ruler he comes off as. You can push people around, but if their heart ain't in it then their heart ain't in it. And beasts, well...

They don't do well with a harsh master, either.

Most folks, they'll do what's easiest, s'pecially if they have to do it over and over again. Ain't a bad thing. Figurin' a faster way to do things, that's how we make progress.

Wouldn't worry too much 'bout Hyrule field though. They got it watched by Bulblins in that area, and I don't reckon they're all that quick on the uptake for the most part. Plus, I reckon they were after me when they came to my village, and with me gone they're prolly lookin' elsewhere.

The Sacred Beast works the bone between his jaws, trying to snap it. He hasn't worked on it enough though, so he just makes a little bit more progress, and not much else.

Well, He ponders, I think I'd have preferred to do my sight-seein' in slightly less end-of-the-world circumstances. S'pose it could be worse. Moon could be fallin'.

  "Still better than never having been there," Zelda points out, although her argument is half-hearted at best. The sun feels too good to get worked up over much of anything right now. She stays right where she is, eyes closed, hands folded behind her head. It's not very regal. She doesn't care. After these weeks of bitter cold and ice, the warmth of the sun is intoxicating.

  She shrugs a shoulder on the topic of whether Zant cares or not. It's all conjecture anyway, without the usurper right there to ask. Anyway, if she were being honest with herself, she wouldn't care; not really.

  All she really wants to do is throw him from her throne, and put Hyrule back to right. Zant's motivations or cares at this point are meaningless to her. He crossed the line and removed himself from even Zelda's legendary patience.

  "Hmmmm. Probably." This, on the Bulblins looking elsewhere for their runaway captive wolf. "The stupidity of Bulblins is a thing of legend. They won't try anything especially clever." Zelda settles more comfortably, sighing contentedly. It's going to be a sad moment, when the sun sinks below the cliffs, but right now it's wonderful. "Thank the Goddesses for small favours, I suppose."

  Gnaw, gnaw. She can hear him working at that bone like one possessed, but that's the way of those things. Her father's mastiffs had always liked the occasional ox bone treat.

  "I could hit it with a rock, if it's being troublesome," Zelda offers. Her voice is level, but there's a ripple of amusement behind her words; just the barest touch of it tickling at the edge of his mind. Just enough to imply she's not being wholly serious unless he wants the help.

  Shifting her weight and avoiding the bite of a root digging into the back of her shoulder, the Hylian crosses her legs at the ankle and settles, opening her eyes and looking up to the blue, blue sky; a procession of fluffy white clouds stroll stately past. There's no rain in them, but the promise of a beautiful spring day tomorrow.

  "Could be worse. Could be any number of crises Hyrule's faced in the past. And there were plenty," she adds, gaze sliding sideways to Link for a moment. There's a flicker of something there; just a hint of deep, autumn blue amidst their milder, summery colour. Then she half-smiles and looks away, and it's gone as she studies the clouds. "The merchants used to say a sky like that is a good omen. No sudden squalls. No violent storms. Just a pretty spring day."

  Zelda shuts her eyes. Comfortable silence settles over her. Did she fall asleep? No, her breathing isn't regular enough for that.

  "You can almost forget the mess, looking at a sky like that..."

Yes. Link agrees.

On the subject of Bulblins, the Sacred Beast makes an uneasy noise. He replies, I don't reckon that those Bulblins are all that dumb. At the least, their leader ain't, which will make the difference. But I don't know that he's the sort who cares that much 'bout what Zant wants. Actually, I reckon he's the sort who would use the face that Bulblins are famously stupid to pass himself off as harmless and do whatever he pleases without being in a position to be reprimanded. Which really just kin'na tells you the sorta guy you're dealin' with.

So if he's lookin' for me, it won't be because Zant wants me. And that might mean that he won't come lookin' at all. I didn't give him much of a fight the last time, y'know.

Might not think I was all that important.

Naw. Takes the fun out of it. Feels good anyhow, and the marrow is pretty good once I can get to it. That's mostly why I do it, t'be honest with you. This body takes a lot of upkeep, so eatin' pure fat is useful.

Oh!

The Sacred Beast looks up, dropping the bone.

You were jokin', weren't ya? Sorry, it's just a little unusual comin' from you.

He lifts his head skywards, but can't really make out the colors the way Zelda does. Link nods, I'll take your word for it. Looks 'bout that way to me, at least. But storms can sweep in mighty sneaky-like, if they're feelin' it.

A tickle of amusement bubbles up out of Link's minds, but he doesn't speak his thoughts on the matter. Zelda relaxing a little is a good thing, and he figures she'd stop if he pointed it out.

These other crises. You know anything about 'em? He asks.

  "Mmhmm. They're like any other monster. Conveniently stupid as a box of rocks, up until the point which one of them isn't." The timing could be better, but there's no helping it. They'll have to deal with their morbidly obese friend and his pet pig sooner or later.

  Zelda stretches, sighing and settling back into the hollow of the tree's roots. "You would've liked my grandmother," she observes languidly, before raising her arms and stretching luxuriously. The sun is so nice. Not being cold or feeling halfway to frostbite seems almost decadent after so much cold and snow. "She was a smartass, too."

  Those summer-blue eyes lid and settle on the clouds again, watching them drift and change as the wind scoots them along. "It feels like spring, and thank the Goddesses for that. I'm so tired of the snow."

  She glances at him at the sensation of his own amusement, blinking almost sleepily, but apparently she's feeling too sun-drunk and lazy to question it.

  Sometimes it's necessary to forget about everything else; to take a day and just lounge in the sun. There's nothing she can do for the carpenters right now, and nothing else she can do for her preparations short of prayer; spending a day like this inside would be absolutely criminal.

  .../Should/ be, anyway.

  He asks about the other crises. Her eyes slide out of focus as she looks inward, and if he looks her way, he might see the way her eyes darken for a fleeting instant. Zelda closes her eyes. "Yes. But I only remember impressions and jumbled fragments. Nothing very useful."

  "I remember a kingdom in the sky, only it wasn't a kingdom, yet. We stayed behind." What that means, she doesn't say, but her voice has the soft and deliberate quality of one in a trance. She might not respond even if he interrupted to ask. "I remember a kingdom not unlike this one, only it was smaller, and there was fire in the sky. A man laughing, a Gerudo, but I don't know why I know that. We defeated him..."

  Her face twists into a subtle frown. "There were other times. After the sky, before the other-Hyrule... but they were minor. We stopped the ancient evil from freeing itself... and avoided the crises."

  "Sometimes you didn't know who you were until it was too late," she murmurs, softly. "Sometimes you had to sacrifice yourself. Sometimes I had to sacrifice myself. I remember enough to know I experienced lifetimes. Um. That Hylia did. That I remember Hylia living through my ancestors..." Her voice still has that trance-like quality, despite interrupting herself. Maybe it's Hylia speaking, or maybe it's Zelda theorising about the goddess she carries in her blood. "It breaks my heart every time..."

  Zelda lifts her eyes to the clouds again. She can almost imagine a great winged form diving through those puffy white clouds; hear the wild laughter of a young man and a young woman trailing on the wind.

  She closes her eyes, breathes out a small sigh. When she opens them, they're light again, clear and focused. The only thing to hear is the wind, sighing through the crown of the apple trees.

  "I wasn't really expecting this orchard to survive," she offers, in the middle of her story. "It's nice to see something green survived in all of this snow and stone."

  Branches clatter softly, the leaves not quite big enough to make noise of their own. Far away, a tiny bird trills a pretty song.

  Zelda draws in a breath, heaving a slow sigh as she lets it go.

  "It's... hard, looking back. I can lose myself in them. I can lose sight of what is /me/, in all of that. Because I am all of them, just as they are all me, but they're not /really/ me, and..." Zelda sighs, snapping her eyes open. "...I'm sorry. This is all probably /really/ confusing."

Well... y'know, I don't reckon they're all that much different in the end. That lot are just a little more backwards, for now. What I mean by that is, ain't like all Hylians are all that smart. Might be there are more of us that are smart than they have, but a lot of us are useless as a paper axe. Or near enough, anyhow. Can't judge 'em too harshly for how the Goddesses made 'em, and the Goddesses are the only ones who coulda made them. I reckon they're just a few steps behind.

'Course, that means they're still dangerously primitive. He adds, thoughtfully.

Crunch crunch grind.

The Sacred Beast raises his head to look properly at Zelda again, when her gaze slides out of focus. That's really funny, and not quite the first time he thinks he's seen something similar happen with her. He blinks slowly, and nods.

The orchard dims slightly as Zelda recounts her tale, though no clouds pass overhead to make it overcast, heavy or light.

Link nods, but doesn't really seem to understand. He lets Zelda meander to the end of her thoughts on the subject, and stays quiet for a little while after before he replies: I think it's supposed to be different with me. I don't reckon I'm really supposed to understand that. Somethin' to do with the difference between courage, and wisdom. But it might also just be that the other me's have experienced things that wouldn't let a new person live normally if they had to deal with 'em.

I d'no.

I dunno if there's even really other me's the way there are other yous, and I sure don't get myself mixed up with 'em. Maybe you oughta stop lookin' back, if it messes with you so much. But hell, I know you're not gonna.

Not peekin' when you could is very hard. Especially when it's somethin' like that.

  "Maybe they are. Maybe they aren't." Zelda shakes her head, but it isn't much more than a twitch. "All I know is that they're too violent-minded to be negotiated with. Maybe the Goddesses made them that way, but then again, maybe the Triforce of Power corrupted them, as it's corrupted other monsters."

  The princess shrugs and leans back against her apple tree. "It's a purely academic issue, either way. They'll go on being a problem, and we'll go on fighting them where we find them. I'm not convinced that they aren't just some other life form twisted by the Triforce of Power. Or, maybe, the King of Evil. It isn't just some boogeyman's tale told to scare children into good behaviour, even if it hasn't manifested in so many generations."

  "I wonder sometimes if that's not what we're really facing, here," she muses, softly. "Anyway, I don't have any answers. Or divine insight." It doesn't really work that way, and the inner workings of the Golden Goddesses is above Hylia's pay grade, anyway.

  She looks up again, listening to his response without much enthusiasm. She looks tired, not physically; but a fleeting instant of such sorrow and weariness and frightening wisdom in those eyes. Haunted, almost. Zelda blinks a few times and the vulnerability is gone, replaced with a slightly forced smile, and slightly forced cheer.

  "I don't think there are any answers at all, really." Zelda leans back against the tree again, shifting her weight against the roots that dig into her hip and shoulder. "And it doesn't work like that. I can remember what I've already seen, but there's no telling when I might 'remember' something. Something I see might remind me of a memory I didn't even know I had. Most of the time, I see them in my dreams. Or my nightmares. Sometimes I see the same thing, as though Her Grace is trying to show me something important..."

  She shrugs. "I don't really want to look back, honestly. The past is the past. It usually can't help us much, unless it forces us to examine our current problems another way."

  Silence settles.

  "I almost envy you your ignorance. My mind is a very crowded place, sometimes, and the memories of so many other Zeldas, the memories of Her Grace... I don't like seeing them. They're not /mine/." She closes her eyes, settling her arms at her sides, wrists bared and hands resting palm-up. "Sometimes they're helpful, but most of the time, they're just confusing."

  "They used to really scare me, as a child. Before my grandmother explained what I was seeing. I wish she were still alive, now. She might have something useful to say about all of this." Zelda's hand flicks dismissively. "She'd probably find some kind of bizarre amusement in all this mess, anyway. I was always closer to her than anyone else in my life, and even I don't think I really understand her all that well."

I s'pose it don't make much difference for our purposes. Link says, with a mental shrug. I don't know about the Triforce of Power either, but I think that if two are involved it's natural for three to be involved somewhere down the line. S'pecially if we're due or overdue somethin' like that. But d'you really even know when the last time he turned up was? I'd reckon that sort of thing would be well-recorded, but... I sure ain't heard any recent tales about things like this.

Stories about the Master Sword and what the Hero was like, those are all over the place. But the particulars... well. I sure ain't heard any of 'em. It's like a story about knights and dragons, that's just how stories go, but you don't get a real good look at the people involved.

He issues a heavy sigh, leaving the bone alone and settling his head down flat. Link's eyes droop slightly. It IS nice out, he reflects, and it probably won't be nice out like this again for a while. Or at least, not for them. The twilight weather is strange and alien, and travel during this heat in the kind of gear they're going to want to wear for combat is going to get... well, pretty miserable.

This fur is going to be murder.

Sounds like a real burden. But I think that maybe it's a burden to have to learn everything over again, too. I don't really want to remember what the past Heroes did, and I think that they'd say the same. Except...

The Orchard darkens again, slightly.

Except maybe rattlebones. And not in the way we're talkin' about. I think he wanted other people to remember, not just future Heroes.

Sounds like your grandmother, The Sacred Beast raises his head, yawning involuntarily, was the mysterious type and liked it that way. D'you suppose that you'll eventually start seein' her memories, or is she too recent, or... how exactly does that work? Is it anybody from your family?

  "I don't know one way or another. All of this is beyond me. If I had instructions, I wouldn't be wondering about it out loud." Zelda's tone is one of resignation, but it carries a note of subtle, self-depreciating amusement.

  She turns her wrist, flopping her hand over onto her lap to glance down at the Triforce of Wisdom. It doesn't offer any answers, though; doesn't really do much of anything, not even light up. "I don't know when he turned up last, but I don't think it was so long ago as all that. I couldn't say why. Those memories aren't very clear. I think the older they are, the more clarity I have, even though that doesn't make much sense."

  Zelda lets her wrist fall back again and closing her eyes. "A little. Except I see the Master Sword differently. I see it through the eyes of the one who /made/ it. It was forged by Hylia, and even though she was a deity, she couldn't wield it. So she chose a mortal champion, and bestowed the blade and the charge of Hyrule's safety on him. He accepted it willingly... at least, that's what I've heard."

  "He's reappeared ever since, whenever there's been need of his courage... the Master Sword calls to him, and reawakens the spirit of Hylia's Chosen Hero." The princess sighs, quiet and thoughtful. "Except he never remembers who he is... and she doesn't always remember the whole story. And this time... I am she."

  She reaches up, passing a hand over her face. "I saw him, you know. 'Rattlebones.' The first time you came to me. He's a little frightening if you aren't expecting him... but he's on our side, as much as he can choose one. I just hope we can bring him some peace, too. No one should have to suffer and cling as he has."

  "She always knew more than she let on." This, regarding her grandmother; the one who had assembled the Seven Sages -- although only the Princess of Destiny had known and remembered, after sending the Hero of Time back to his own timeline. Zelda closes her eyes, resting an arm over her stomach. "Mm. She was, but I trusted she had her reasons. She was also an incredibly sharp-tongued, sarcastic vixen when provoked." Her half-smile suggests it was more a source of amusement than anything else. "She'd never been one to suffer fools."

  Zelda opens her eyes just a little, gaze drifting to the fleecy white clouds. They're starting to turn a little gold, as the sun moves lower in the sky. She smiles a little at his last question. "They're /all/ my family, Link. My descent from Her Grace is an unbroken line, passed on from mother to daughter, regardless of who the King of Hyrule is in any given generation..." One shoulder rises and falls, awkardly against the roots. "I don't really claim to know how it works. It just is."

  "I haven't seen any of my mother's memories. I'm not even sure I've seen any of my grandmother's... but sometimes I see memories I can't identify. Sometimes there just isn't enough to know /when/ I'm seeing," she muses, softly. "I have a number of memories like that. Irrelevant pieces, for the most part. Fragments that have nothing to do with anything else."

Older books oughta be less reliable, more decayed. No, that don't make much sense. Link agrees, plainly.

But if it wasn't really that long ago that this fella last appeared, ain't it weird that it's happening again so soon? Maybe I'm just overthinkin' it, and there ain't all that much to it but things just happenin' to pile up that way. He glances at the mark on Zelda's hand, and if he /could/ frown he would. The division of power is, he thinks, rather odd. Why /would/ the power of the Goddesses be divided at all? And how could a deity create something they themselves could not wield?

There's no point asking. Zelda doesn't know any more than he does.

Link nods at mention of the Shade, He's pretty alarmin' at first glance, but you get used to it after a while. We talk pretty regularly, but he hardly ever turns up if there's anyone else around. D'no why, he wants to be seen and heard in some way. But I think that if he wanted to move on he probably could. If he's one of the Heroes, then...

I think maybe he just doesn't think that the job is done yet.

-I- don't like leavin' things half-done.

Link issues a low whine, I wonder why they gotta make it so hard, Zelda. Lot of 'em pretty clearly know more'n they're lettin' on. I suppose if it was me, I might not think too much of tellin' a kid somethin' about all this grim business. Might think, well, if they're lucky these problems will never crop up again. Or they're not ready. Or they'll get a big head.

People are strange, sometimes.

Link picks his head up, his ears lifting straight up. Actually... we really oughta get an empty book and some ink and a pen, and get started on writin' about all this. Maybe find someplace to hide it that won't get burned down out of spite.

And so a future puzzle dungeon was conceived.

  "I told you it didn't make a lot of sense." Zelda half-smiles, but she just doesn't have the energy to muster an actual laugh. "An old book's ink shouldn't be legible after it's decayed. The finest parchment crumbles to dust after an age or two. Even vellum rots in time."

  "I think you're overthinking it," Zelda points out, not unkindly. "But just a little bit." She lets her eyes slide closed again. "My aspect is Wisdom. In this case, I think it's knowing how little we actually know. Keeping an open mind, maybe. Being willing to learn. To listen. To draw our own inferences from the past..."

  She falls silent. Maybe she senses something of the surface of his thoughts. "Maybe it's a disrespectful sentiment, but I think even the gods don't have all the answers. They have to do the best they can, just like us..."

  Through the end of her statement, she seems to tense almost imperceptibly, just a little, as though she were expecting a blow. Zelda cracks an eye open, eyeing the blue bowl of the heavens. Fluffy white clouds. No black clouds, no thunderbolts of divine judgement. She relaxes a little.

  Honestly, expecting divine punishment. She really is devout, isn't she?

  "If he really is one of Her Grace's champions, than that is a sad end indeed, to be forgotten by legend and unknown to the very people you saved. Could it be that he regrets that no one remembered the lessons of his sacrifices?" Zelda glances over to the wolf, but her question seems more rhetorical than anything else. It isn't like Link has any way to know.

  At Link's low whine, she reaches out and lays a hand over his shoulder, gently. It's meant to be a comforting gesture; sun-drunk and comfortable, she doesn't think twice about the possibility that he might react on instinct and snap at her. If she bleeds for her oversight, so be it.

  "That would be the wisest option, wouldn't it?" the princess murmurs, eyes drooping. "To record these things before they're lost to future generations... maybe we'll do that, once this is finished, and we know the ending to this tale. I'm sure I can find a sanctum for it, some place it would be safe even from the spiteful or the narrow-minded..."

  With her knowledge of the ceremonial and the spiritual, she can probably find a place that has really good protection. Maybe she could even entrust it to the Light Spirits. Who knows?

  She leans back, eyes not quite closing. All that's visible is a slit of tired summer-blue. "I just wonder what my place is in all of this. To be this close to things as they unfold... it tells me that either something big is going to happen, or things are just that far off-kilter." Zelda heaves a sigh. "I don't know. And that's Wisdom, too... admitting you don't know. Knowing you don't have all the answers."

  She closes her eyes. "I'm tired, Link." Her tone suggests it has nothing to do with the physical. "I'll be glad when all of this is over, and I can go back to the business of administering the kingdom. I wasn't made for this kind of thing. Metaphorically /or/ literally."

You don't keep it on the one book forever. Link says, simply. Personally I'd be of a mind to find a nice cave somewhere and carve the whole thing into it somehow. Like pictograms. But the book is just where ya start, y'see? You get down what all happened as it happens, so y'don't have a bad account when you put it down in a mostly permanent form. If I was gonna suggest a real good way to actually do it though, it would be...

I d'no, something magic. Like... if you could bottle a memory for somebody. Can you do that with witchy things? Can you even do witchy things that aren't related to the Goddesses?

On the subject of the Goddesses themselves though, Link nods vigorously. I don't reckon they were perfect. People might say it's sacreligious to say so, but personally I reckon that the Goddesses were just people like anybody is. Big, powerful people, but if y'look how power ends up bein' used ya can't tell me that they even really did /us/ completely right, ta say nothin' of their broader creations. To take the Moblins as an example, I don't figure they've been corrupted. I just don't think they're far enough along -- mostly -- to think more long-term.

Maybe they'll never get there. If that's how it is, probably, they'll eventually all die and be forgotten.

About the Shade, Link says: Ghosts don't hang around for no reason, and they don't change their ways much that I know of. This ghost, well, whoever he was he must have wandered in and started helpin' people a lot, because that's all he's ever done to me. Bit rough about it sometimes, but all the same. So whatever his reasons are, I think that 'helping' is just too much a part of him not to do it while he's still around.

And I don't think that's too sad, even if it ain't happy either.

Link barks lightly, I reckon you have the hard part ahead of you once all of this is solved. You may look back on these times as better'n governance, eventually. Personally...

I'm gonna be bored.

Sorry I can't make it all happen faster, though.

  "Mmm. There's no reason why someone else couldn't do that. Not me, though." Zelda leans her head back, eyes closed, tilting her face up toward the warmth of the sun. She can't help a sigh of pleasure. Goddesses, it's good to feel warm again, after this miserable winter. "I can mend wounds. Ask for blessings. Sometimes those prayers get answered, too. But that's it."

  "I do what I was made to do, and that's to guide and protect my people. If that means I have to make sacrifices in my personal life, so be it. I resigned myself a long time ago to a lonely existence." As though reminded by her words, she withdraws her hand from Link's head, laying it back over her stomach. "I think stone is a better idea. There's a permanence to stone that you just can't get with parchment, or even vellum."

  Shifting her weight, she settles more comfortably against the tree's roots, folding an arm and twisting over to pillow her chin at the crook of her elbow. Her eyes drift closed again.

  One eye opens vaguely at Link's commentary. It slides closed again, slowly.

  "Maybe." Zelda's words aren't quite slurred, but they're a little muffled by her arm. She shifts, curling both arms under her head and sighing contentedly once she's settled. There's a flicker of thought behind her words, just a wordless sensation of contentment, like a sun-drunk cat. "I don't know."

  Her ability to form any sort of intelligent opinion is dissolving rapidly.

  Sliding an eye open, she regards Link for a moment when he barks. Deciding it's too much effort to watch him, she lets her eye slide closed again and curls up in her root-hollow. "Mmn. Maybe. Suppose he doesn't mind much if he's still following you around. There must be something he wants out of you."

  He's actually been pretty helpful in his own taciturn way. She hasn't forgotten about finding the Six Sages, and she's convinced there's some merit to the suggestion. Even the portents agreed when she consulted the goddesses on the matter. It may take some time, and there are other priorities that need to be pursued first, but she won't forget that mission.

  "Maybe. But I doubt that. Governance is what I was raised to do. I enjoyed it... I guess I can see how it would bore you to tears, though." Zelda half-smiles. "Sorry, Hero." The title is teasing. "When all this is over, I'll see if I can find something interesting for you to do. I can knight you. Appoint you my bodyguard. You'd have free reign through the castle." Her mouth twitches; a slight half-smile. "Sound good...?"

  She falls silent a moment. Did she fall asleep? Not quite yet. "Mn. That's like apologising for the miserable weather in Snowpeak. It isn't anybody's fault." She opens an eye, regards him for a second or two, and closes it again. Was that a faint smile? "But... thank you. I appreciate the sentiment."

Oh.

Link marvels at this a little. All of her power coming from the divine source was something that Zelda had commented on previously, but it hadn't quite sunk in until just now. It struck him as strange, though, that her power was rooted in asking rather than simply doing. 

Have you considered learning? I'm sure you could be taught. The old witch of the wood makes potions, comes and peddles 'em now and again. He ponders aloud.

Anyway, I reckon you mighta been taking all this too serious-like on your end. You got some obligations, but... well. The Goddesses weren't alone, were they? There were three of 'em, and they left behind three parts of themselves. Two of 'em always end up fightin' against the other I s'pose, though I don't rightly see why that has to be the case. Point is, I doubt the Goddesses intended you to resign yourself to anything like that.

Life doesn't have to be dreary concessions just 'cause you've got a burden to bear. By the by, if you're about to take a nap maybe do it against me instead of against the tree, 'cause you'll wake up worse than you started if you sleep against a tree.

Concerning governance, Link flattens his ears and looks nothing if not dubious, Ain't that I couldn't, and ain't that I wouldn't, but I've never been involved in somethin' that required thinkin' like that. It's like a glove that don't quite fit. I'm sure it's the kinda work that never ends, so it couldn't be totally dull, but...

Herdin' goats is a little more physical.

As for Rattlebones, he's teachin' me swordplay. So I'm guessin' he wants me to go and sword somethin' pretty good. I dunno how he does it, either. I kinda get pulled into this... other world, where I'm still me, and we fight until he teaches me whatever he was going to teach me. S'pretty rough, actually. I learn by overextending and getting whacked more'n anything else.

Link nods, I could do some bodyguardin'. But if I'm bein' honest about what I'm about, y'probably want me tendin' your animals more than you want me trompin' about the castle all free-like. We'll see how things go. I may decide that I'm going to be a big hulking soldier like Rattlebones obviously was, and then what you just said would work out great.

And you're welcome. He adds, with a firm nod.

  The wolf is slow, but mostly steady. Mostly. He gets things in the end, even if it seems like it isn't until the eleventh hour. The princess cracks an eye open at his simple acknowledgement, watching as the proverbial light dawns. It's almost a process she can watch happen. Zelda can't help a little bit of helpless amusement at his slow realisation, a sentiment he might sense bleeding through the bond; like a swirl of bubbles rising through champagne.

  "I could. But I lack the time, and my responsibilities pull me in different directions." Leaning against the trunk, Zelda's gaze drifts downward to the bark, absently tracing a finger along its rough texture. "Such things aren't difficult, nor beyond my capacity to learn. Merely time-consuming."

  Time is a commodity she doesn't always have an abundance of. The sentiment is true now more than ever, as the land gradually slips away beneath its pall of the Twilight.

  "Maybe. Maybe not." No news is good news, as the saying goes. The goddesses haven't voiced any preferences for how she ought to go about doing things, so she continues to do them as she always has. "Are you sure? I know you don't usually like to be touched..."

  Zelda can't help a yawn, though. It's just too nice an afternoon to pass up a nap in the warm sun after spending half the winter cooped up in sub-zero temperatures and maddeningly grey skies. To call it cabin fever would be a grave understatement.

  Carefully, Zelda smooths down the fur along his back, plucking out a twig here or a leaf there because she doesn't really want to be napping on debris. His fur is already warm from the sun; already radiates heat, just a little, at its darkest points.

  She shrugs and leans a crooked arm over him, resting her chin in the hollow of her elbow and the line of his back, just behind his shoulders. He's warm, and that coarse fur is a good deal softer than she might have expected. The undercoat, at least, is fluffier than it looks.

  "All right. If you insist."

  It probably beats a crooked neck from sleeping against a tree, but she's slept against trees before. She's slept in trees, too. In fact, she's reasonably certain she'll do it again before this entire mess is over with.

  At his dubious look, which is strangely adorable coming from such a lupine face, Zelda chuckles and pats his shoulder. "Don't look so put out. You could always drill the soldiers. I'm sure you're a fair hand with a blade, going by what I saw of you while you were back to your normal self. In fact, I'd wager rupees on it. You could probably put down three quarters of the soldiers without really trying."

  Pity there was nobody like him when Zant stormed the citadel. Things might have ended differently.

  "Mmm?" Herding goats is a little more physical, he says. "Is it? I have no experience with goats. Horses, yes, but comparing the two is like comparing apples and oranges." Leaning against him like that, she doesn't weigh much. Even laying over his shoulder, it's trivial, especially for a creature as large as Link's wolf body. For being able to put out such monstrous power when she has a mind to, Zelda is an incongruously tiny thing. "Maybe. You're good with the horses, too. You need Epona to herd, and she's in top form."

  The princess chuckles, faintly; a little awkward in that he can feel the sound as much as hear it. "You're right. We'll see. It's a long ways off, and that's assuming everything goes off without a hitch, which it never does. But you'll have a place in my castle, regardless of what you decide to do, if you want a place. I can promise you that much."

  Slowly, her eyes drift closed. "Let's rest for a while. I'm a little tired, and the sun feels so good..."

  There's a faint brush against his thoughts -- it might be the equivalent to a smile, if she had the energy to do it, but instead it's just the emotion behind it. With the end of winter, it's hard not to think that things are looking up, even if only a little.

  Rest well, Link.

Link does notice the amusement, and reacts with a thought stream that is best communicated as, ???

But he carries on as if no confusion had occurred, I tried my hand at potioneerin' once. Didn't go so well. Either that or the recipe I had was bad. Probably just didn't go so well, though. Y'can't count on goats leavin' you long enough to carefully brew a great big list of ingredients without somethin' going wrong. And I think they ate some of 'em.

Anyhow-- yeah, I'm sure. I've gotten pretty used to you and a few of the others. Kinda wish some of the new ones wouldn't get so pawsy, but there ain't much to be done about it. An' it helps get used to the situation. I'm sure others I need to avoid snappin' at are gonna do it sooner or later, so I may as well get some more practice in. He heaves a great sigh, Wouldn't do to snap at some kid.

Another snort follows, this one amused.

Didn't insist, just think it ain't a good idea for you to wear yourself out with a nap. Defeats the point, don't it? Anyway, I'm good with a sword. Rusl was the other swordsman in our village, and he was better'n me but not stronger. By now I reckon I'm probably ahead of him by a ways, not to be disrespectful of his talents. An' I am pretty good with horses.

The goats... He makes an odd chortling noise that his vocal cords aren't suited to, sometimes, they get ornery and you gotta take 'em by the horns. I usually get that done manually. Epona helps out when they're in bigger areas, but when they're not out to pasture you gotta deal with them up close. They're big enough to spook a lot of horses, though. Part of why Epona is so good in a fight-- she deals with big, ornery goats a lot.

Link noses his bone away from his front paws so he can lay his head down comfortably, and shuts his eyes.

You too, Zelda.