Chapter Text
“Don’t wander into the trees, Zelda.”
The girl turned back to her mother, tilting her head. “Why not, mother?”
“We are next to the Lost Woods,” she said. “That leads to the Kokiri forest. Only the Fæ and the Skull Children dwell therein. It’s too dangerous.”
Zelda frowned. “Then why are we picnicking so nearby, if it’s so dangerous?”
Her mother simply laughed, not answering her question.
She let the question drop, no matter the curiosity that still burned in her. But her mother was always busy and preoccupied, so she never knew how to press for more of her attention than she was already granted. Instead she skipped over to someone she trusted better to give her answers.
“Impaaa,” Zelda began. “Do you know why we’re picnicking here?”
“Because there is an enchanting view of the Zora River and plenty of room for you to run and play without bothering your parents and their acquaintances they have invited with us today.” Impa always answered her so candidly. Sometimes Zelda believed she might like her better than Mother. “And your mother does not know you as well as I do and believes you will not run off into the woods.”
She clenched her hands into fists. “I won’t run off!”
Impa gave her a pointed, all-knowing look. “I hope you shall not. Your mother was correct about the danger it poses.”
Zelda tilted her head, wondering what made it so dangerous. The Lost of the Woods she understood, but… “What does Kokiri mean?”
“The Kokiri are cousins to the Skull Children. Both are mischievous creatures that take joy in playing pranks and causing misfortunes upon travellers that come through their realm. But Kokiri take upon themselves the appearance of a hylian child unlike their counterparts.”
That answered her next question of what a Skull Child was. “Are they really so dangerous? Even I like to pull pranks from time to time.”
Impa hesitated a moment before answering, looking over to where Zelda’s mother was overseeing the picnic being set up. “They are not so dangerous on their own.”
“And the Fæ?”
She crouched down to be on her level, gaze boring into Zelda’s own. “They are the true danger of the Lost Woods. Beings of pure magic that can manipulate it as easily as you speak. Not all encounters with the Fæ go poorly, but… too many do. They share a love of mischief with the Kokiri and the Skull Children, but possess far more power and far less empathy.”
There was no doubt left in her tone that the woods were a dangerous place, better to avoid than anything, but as she looked over, the warning made them seem that much more enchanting. But before she had a chance to run into the trees there was a call for the start of their meal, and thoughts of mischief disappeared in favor of sustenance.
The meal passed quickly enough for Zelda not to be too bored by the adults’ conversation that did not interest her, allowing to go and play on her own—all under Impa’s watchful gaze. Until her mother asked the governess to take a turn with her along the banks of the river, leaving the child a few paces from the wood without any eyes on her.
She stared at the trees for a while. She was still just as fascinated by what she heard from Impa, but those warnings did rightly instill a bit of fear in her as well. Ultimately, she determined that her mother’s warning was not enough, but that Impa would not call anything dangerous without ample reason. So they were lovely and tempting, but she was strong-willed enough to resist that temptation. Thoughts of how difficult it might be to read her beloved books if she turned into a rabbit kept her out of the trees whenever her eyes were drawn to them again.
Well, those thoughts worked until she caught the faintest hints of a fluting, cheerful tune drifting from those very trees.
Zelda thought of Impa’s warnings. She thought of being turned into a frog, or a chipmunk, or being cursed forever to be unable to read.
But her curiosity had always been her greatest weakness, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the Kokiri and Skull Children and Fæ were really like. If Impa had met them, she had clearly made it out alright, and if she hadn’t then she might not really know herself.
But the justifications to herself did not matter so much as the fact that she followed the sound one step and then another and a few more past the first trees and into the woods. After those first few steps she noticed a mist that began to cover the ground and frowned, the warnings she had received earlier bearing a greater weight in her mind once more. She turned around, intending to head back out before anything stranger than that happened, but was met with the sight of trees extending just as far as the eye could see in that direction as well, despite the fact that she had just entered.
That was far more alarming than the mist on the ground, and she considered again that it was called the Lost Woods. But Zelda had read too many stories of children falling to their peril in woods such as these, so she simply sat down where she stood, choosing to take a moment to carefully consider what she should do so that she didn’t recklessly make this situation worse than it already was.
She wanted to go back, and after hearing about magic and suspecting that these woods were as full of it as Fæ apparently were, she thought it might be an illusion and she would only have to take those few steps back to return to where she had been. But for how little she knew of magic, it was just as possible that now she really was somewhere in the middle of the woods before she knew how she got here, so that could well enough leave her more lost than she was already.
She tried to think if there was any way she could determine if it was simply an illusion. She could only see three of her footprints in the soft forest floor. How many steps had she taken again? She thought it was at least five or seven past the first tree, but now she didn’t feel so sure. Was it more? Less? She couldn’t help but worry there was some magic behind this, and she wasn’t sure how to tell, much less what she should do about it if there was.
Well, she might as well try. So the first thing was, Zelda supposed, to figure out what type of magic it might be. Since she obviously at least appeared to somehow be in the middle of the forest, it was possible that she was legitimately brought there. But she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t just her eyes being fooled, either.
She glanced at the footprints again. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she had taken more than those three steps. And if it was an illusion of some kind, maybe that was simply where it started. That seemed like the only thing she could really test, so she reached over to the other side of the furthest footprint from where she sat, and she pressed her finger into the dirt, taking note of how the impression remained. Perhaps it was an illusion simply good enough to account for her actions, but she didn’t think so. It seemed prudent to see if there was a better plan that accounted for the fact that she might legitimately be lost in these woods, at the very least.
Zelda knew that she didn’t want to keep sitting here. There was nothing to indicate that anyone would successfully be able to find her wherever she was, let alone before a wolfos or even a plain wolf did. So she would decide upon a course of action and then move.
But if she did not try to go back, not daring to get more lost, then what could she do? If she were to merely pick a direction and follow it, she might as well try the way she had come from, in case it was an illusion or at least eventually led out of here. But that seemed like a last resort.
As she considered all of this, she kept listening to that tune that had first enticed her into the forest. She hadn’t noticed, but now it was louder than the few steps she had taken would account for, though she couldn’t pinpoint when, precisely, the change had happened.
Someone, or something, had to be playing the song. Even if it were a Fæ, and a horrible fate awaited her… well, the chance of it helping her make her way from these woods was enough that she thought the risk might be worth it. If she wanted to stay safe, she would have needed to never step foot in here in the first place.
With a course set in mind, Zelda took a deep breath and stood up, slowly winding her way towards the song. The music gradually grew louder, and the mist steadily grew thicker, until she could hardly see more than two paces in front of her and was relying solely on the music for a direction to follow.
Finally, when it seemed so loud that she thought she may as well have arrived wherever the music came from, the mist seemed to thin a bit. Just enough that she could see a huge log, far wider than she was tall, fallen and hollowed out, at least up to the point its center was cast in shadow. But she suspected even beyond that, because the music was coming from the center of it. She cautiously walked in a wide half circle, going far enough to either side to determine it wasn’t from simply the other end of the log. It was coming from the log itself.
She was still uncertain about this whole thing, but as she had determined earlier, she had to take some risks today. So Zelda took a deep breath and stepped inside the small tunnel.
The darkness was not as bad as she had expected, and she was comforted by the tune that kept drawing her forward. It was refreshing when she caught a glimpse of light in front of her, enough so that she disregarded all of her previous caution and ran toward the exit.
She came out to a small clearing, without any trace of the mist from earlier and the sun beaming down kindly through the nearby tree tops. Knee high grass and shrubbery littered the ground just as much as wildflowers. Zelda paused for a moment before she stepped upon that ground, getting a sense that it was a place unlike any she had been to before. It was a place that knew of the normal rules of time and nature and chose not to adhere to them.
And in the center of it all, upon a stump large enough that it must have once been part of the tree the log she just came through, there sat a boy, with an odd shaped instrument that made the flutelike sounds of the song she had followed. He looked about her own age, with honey-tanned skin and hair the color of grass in autumn peeking out of a cap as rich as the leaves in the trees and the matching oversized patched tunic he wore. She wondered what hue his eyes were and if they belonged in nature as much as the rest of him, but they were closed in a soft concentration as he played. Hovering in the air above him were three softly glowing orbs of light—icy blue,dandelion, and violet sunset respectively.
Though she didn’t move at all, at the end of the refrain he lowered the peculiar instrument from his lips, stopping for the first time since he had begun to play those many minutes ago. He opened his eyes to look at her, and Zelda found that they were as blue as the waters of Lake Hylia, and their gaze on her stole her breath.
“Kokiri,” she managed to whisper despite this. Because Impa had said they looked like hylian children and were mischievous and she could think of no other explanation as to why it was suddenly so difficult for her to breath.
He grinned mischievously, resting his elbow on his knee and his tilted head on his hand. “Not quite. I’m a prank.”
“A prank?” It was easier to breathe now that he had broken one of the enchantments of this place with the cheerfulness of his voice.
“Nine years ago, the Kokiri found a hylian child, and thought it would be fun to switch him with one of their own. And then they raised him to be cheerful and love mischief and learn magic just as well as any of them do. The only difference is that he will one day grow up.”
Zelda frowned. “And… that’s you?”
He nodded. “You can come out of there, you know. You already scared my friend off, and the Færies shouldn’t hurt you.”
She hesitated a little longer. “Friend? And Færies?”
“Skull Kid doesn’t like hylians,” he sang. “Especially ones with magic. And that makes the Færies like you, so they won’t hurt you.”
One of the orbs of light bobbed around rapidly in the air, making tinkling sounds as it did so. The boy just laughed. “I thought you were the one who wanted to meet a hylian in the first place, Tael. This way you can tell Skull Kid stories of how terrifying they are.”
There was a chiming chorus as all three orbs of light rang around, and he laughed again, the sound somehow fitting in with the rest of the noise.
Zelda nervously lifted a hand up to point at the lights. “Are… those Færies?”
He looked at them and back at her and nodded. “Of course. What else would they be?”
She considered them a little bit longer. They did not appear to be dangerous. And he indicated they would not be. And she would not mind being out of the log. So she took a single step forward to be without the log and promptly sat on the ground, unwilling to test the limits of her safety further. She pulled her knees up and hugged them close to her chest.
“I’m Link, by the way,” the boy introduced himself. “What’s your name, if I may ask?”
She did not know much about Kokiri, but in stories it rarely was good to give your name to a supernatural creature, and she reasoned it would do no harm to take that same precaution here. “I do not think it is wise to tell you.”
The boy—Link—tilted his head again. “Then you are far wiser than most who wander into Kokiri Forest. What brings you here?”
Zelda considered not telling him again, but then she remembered that seeking help was the reason she had decided to follow the music in the first place. Besides, this plight was far less personal than her name. “I heard your music outside the woods, and took only a few steps towards it before I found myself lost. And I followed the song, hoping that whoever was at the end of it could help me find my way out. Would you be able to do that?”
There was the chiming again as the Færies flew around, like they were each offering their opinions on the matter. They didn’t stop until Link held up a hand that stilled them. “Many fall victim to the Lost Woods, though few are so collected as you to do something about it. My friends and I can help you, but a Kokiri never gives anything for free.”
“I thought you weren’t a Kokiri.”
“Not by birth, no. I’m as hylian as yourself for that. But I was raised by Kokiri and Færies, and am therefore similar to them because of that.”
She could accept that, and was about to nod before she realized that might make it seem like she was accepting his offer, which she was not yet willing to do. “I am interested in your help, but I want to know what price you require first.”
He smiled at her. “Wise indeed.” He looked up at the Færies. “What do you think?”
The violet one bobbed. “Hmmm, those would be lovely, but I think it would be a shame to pluck those out of her face where the rest of her features complement them so well.”
Zelda paled, wondering what their conversation entailed, before realizing that it was probably for the best that she could only hear one side of it.
The yellow one’s voice seemed to ring louder and harsher than the other two. “True, but does that not seem unfair to the future child, especially when it would be born at least years from now if it ever is?”
The blue one was perhaps the most energetic of the three, but managed to seem gentle when compared with the other two. “Hmmm… that sounds good to me. What do you two say?”
All three Færies rang in unison. Link grinned. “It is decided, then. The price they require is to talk.”
She blinked. “Talk? That is all?”
The Færies’ movement seemed to match his nod of affirmation.
“Do all of you promise not to curse me as we talk?” she asked. “And not to use any more magic on me than strictly necessary for me to find my way out of the woods and back to my family? And not to encourage any harm whatsoever to befall me?”
There was another bout of ringing as they apparently discussed it for a short while, ending in each one taking their turn to ring individually in the same pattern. “They all promise to that. You’re lucky they like you, because many Færies would look at the stipulations to any deal they make and would try to find whatever loophole they might. But it is probably better to secure promises from them regardless, else they would play those tricks you are concerned with.”
Zelda wasn’t sure whether she should be comforted by those words or not. “And you, Link? Do you promise?”
He laughed. “I promise.”
She nodded, finally reassured. “Well, then, I accept. Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”
Link grinned. “You misunderstand, they do not want to hold a conversation. They want the sound of your voice, and will let you know when they are satisfied and you can go.”
She tilted her head. “Only they want it? Does your opinion not matter at all?”
“They can work the magic more easily than I, so their opinions matter more.” He leaned forward. “But I do get to speak with you, and I don’t mind that.”
She blinked, not sure of what to make of that. “I… well,” she began, going against her mind brimming with questions she desired the answers to, “is there anything you want to talk about, then? If I’ll be talking with you.”
He hummed. “Well, I understand you not wanting to give your true name, but is there anything I can call you instead? Or do I keep calling you strawberry sunshine girl like I have been in my head.”
Zelda unconsciously brought her hands up to her curls, unsure how she felt about him calling her a name inspired by them. “Well… it’s a little silly, but sometimes I play pretend that I am a Sheikah Warrior by the name of Sheik.”
His face split into a grin. “Sheik! That’s a ridiculous name! I love it!”
The Færies bobbed up and down in rings that didn’t match but didn’t clash and seemed more like laughter than their language. She felt her cheeks warm up, but not of embarrassment, because their laughter really seemed to be a laughter of joy more than that of ridicule.
It was strange to say, but here in the middle of a magical forest, Zelda felt like she belonged much better than she ever had even with other children back home. She still knew she must go back, but… well, for now at least it was hardly so bad to enjoy a moment of laughter and the knowledge that she had at least minutes more of this before this would merely be a memory.
“As nice as laughing is, Sheik,” Link said, immediately taking to the name. “The more you speak, the sooner you can go. So unless you want to spend days here, you should start.”
Her eyes widened. She wanted to enjoy this while she could, but that sounded longer than she would like. “Days? You think it might take that long?”
Link shrugged. “I don’t know! Maybe! You can never quite tell with Færies, even if you ask. Should I ask?”
“Well… yes. I’d rather have an idea than none at all.”
He looked up to the Færies. “Well?” The blue one rang out a quick series of chimes. “Sounds like it’s more like one day, rather than several.”
Zelda frowned. “That’s… still a long time. How do they know how long?”
“They don’t,” he said. “They’re guessing based on how much you’ve spoken so far and a vague idea of how much they want to hear your voice. The more you speak the quicker you’ll finish. So speak about whatever you want, something you like, just saying whatever comes to mind, asking questions. I’ll even try to answer them if you do.”
She perked up at the last suggestion. “I can ask you anything at all?”
He nodded. “I might not be able to answer everything, but I’ll answer what I can.”
She smiled, unable to keep the questions flowing from her lips now that she had permission. “Why do the Færies want to hear my voice? ‘Want the sound of it,’ as you first put it. That sounds kind of creepy, and I agreed to it before I completely understood it, so I suppose there isn’t much I can do about it now, but I would like to understand it now.”
“I don’t know.” He tilted his ear to the ringing of the Færies as they answered it themselves. “Ah, they want to steal your voice.”
Zelda paled, bringing a hand up to her throat. “I don’t want to lose my voice!”
“Ah! ‘Steal’ might not be the best word.” He paused a moment, considering it. “It’s more that they want to borrow it. You’ll still have your voice, all your own, but they will know your voice as it is on this day well enough to use it to play pranks in the future.”
“Well… why do they need my voice to do that?” she asked. “Can’t they play pranks without that?”
“Well, they can,” Link said. “But…”
As he trailed off the violet Færie bobbed up and down, ringing in a peculiar way… after a moment, she realized that she could understand it as making a crude attempt at speaking in her language, though it was horribly discordant and kept switching between different tones and speeds the way it was used to speaking in its own tongue. “…can speak. But. Is. Hard.”
After only those few words, the blue one flew forward, bobbing some more, and she heard Link’s voice move with it, though the boy’s lips stayed shut. “But since most hylians and gorons and zoras and gerudos don’t speak Fæ, there are certain pranks that we can’t play with our limitations. And we can only imitate a voice when we’ve heard it speak enough to have a good idea of how it sounds. So me and Tatl and Tael use Link’s a lot! He hardly shuts up!”
“Hey!” he protested. Zelda was just giggling.
The blue Færie hesitated for a moment but then rang out something again.
Link smiled. “Yeah, I like hearing her laugh too, but for different reasons.”
“What did it say? And why did it switch back?”
“Her name is Navi,” he told her. He pointed at the yellow and violet ones respectively naming them as well before continuing. “Tatl and Tael. And… Navi’s the best at imitating voices, but she still doesn’t really like it. So she was only doing it to demonstrate. She prefers speaking in Fæ.”
“Fæ?” Zelda asked. “I was warned there was Fæ in here earlier. Is that what Færies are? Fæ?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what hylians call them, most of the time. But it better describes their culture than the creatures.”
She smiled, delighted to learn the information. This was so much more than Impa knew.
“Oh! Right! You were asking what she was saying earlier. She appreciated the laugh, because that’s a hard sound to do without a proper example.”
That was right. They were trying to learn how to imitate her voice. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “I don’t know how I feel about them having my voice. Like I said before, I can’t undo the deal, but… I don’t want to be at all associated with hurting someone.”
There was suddenly violent ringing from all the Færies. “Despite what people say, Færies never have malicious intent. The stories you always hear, at least the grain of truth that started them, are always to those foolish and greedy souls that believe they can harness their magic for themselves.”
“Oh.”
“And they aren’t stealing your image, only your voice,” he reminded her. “And even then it’s only the way it sounds today. So it won’t sound the same as your voice a few years from now, even. It can’t really get you in that much trouble.”
She nodded. “I guess that’s better. But now I know to be smarter about dealing with Færies in the future.”
She said future so easily, like she would ever have an encounter like this again. And that’s when Zelda realized that she wanted to come back. Regardless of the danger and the unlikelihood that she would be able to find Link and Navi and Tatl and Tael again. But she had hardly anyone in her life, and Impa was the best she had, and even that was… not the same. She craved the openness and comfort of interactions like this. She thought that if she was given the opportunity, she might be able to be friends. With Link at the very least, if perhaps not the Færies.
She asked questions and satisfied her curiosity. Were there many Skull Children? No, and there weren’t many Kokiri, either, and he was surprised she knew the term Skull Children because most hylians simply called them imps. Yes, Skull Kid was a Skull Child, not that that is difficult to figure out. What was Link’s instrument called? An ocarina, and the song he had been playing was one he had learned from his closest friend, Saria. Yes, he had other songs he could play and more stories he could tell, but wasn’t she supposed to be talking? Oh, right, so why does he play the songs? Because there’s magic to them.
“Magic!” Zelda was fascinated by the concept. They had touched on the subject barely in discussing the Færies letting her return, but regardless of the potential danger within it, she craved knowledge about it always. “There’s magic in songs?”
“Yes and no. It’s more of a form of concentration than anything. Anyone could play the songs, but you need a connection to magic for it to do something. Someone like you or I.”
She tilted her head. “Me? I have magic, too?”
Link nodded. “Probably how you managed to hear the song in the first place. And how you navigated the Lost Woods so easily to get here.”
She wanted to argue that it hadn’t really been easy, but when she didn’t know what a typical experience was like even by simply hearing it, could she really say as much?
“Someone like me, I only have it because of the way I was raised, even if the Great Deku Tree says the Kokiri were unconsciously drawn to me because of my magic potential,” he continued. “But you just have a strong natural affinity. Even I can tell that much.”
That was one thing she had noticed about Link as he faced all her questions. He didn’t merely just answer, but as though he understood her burning curiosity, he told her everything he could think of relevant to each question. And she knew that without a doubt she learned more about the world that she lived in and the people in it on this one day than in the previous nine years of living.
After a while she managed to exhaust his knowledge of the world, and while it seemed that the Færies knew more than he did, they also appeared to not be as interested in being free with their answers as he had been. After a couple of rigid answers interpreted by Link, she understood that she had secured her deal with the Fæ for the time being, and they would not be inclined to deal with her beyond that for a while.
Zelda wasn’t quite sure when it happened, even if it were gradually, but by the time she started to tell Link the stories she knew, he had gotten down from the stump and she was sitting next to him on the forest floor next to the stump, their arms and hands occasionally brushing in animated motions. And she didn’t know how and that Impa would call her foolish, but she liked him and trusted him and wished again that there was enough time to truly become friends. And so Zelda told him of the legend of Hylia’s battle with Demise, and the hero that helped her to seal him away. The young princess that was cast into stone, and the hero that shrank to save her. The deku scrub that saved his princess, the goron that thawed his land, the zora that fought off pirates, the statues that placated the dead. The giants freed by all, that in turned saved all the lands from the burning moon.
When she ran out of legends, he listened just as raptly to the stories of the sisters that died only to dwell in the forest forevermore (at that one, he hissed “Poe sisters”), houses with creeping skulltulas that once were hylian, abandoned ruins drenched in the blood of the souls that haunt the corridors, and (this one interrupted by a ringing of the Færies that Link promptly told to shut up) a king that led his land to its doom.
“The Færies say you can return now,” Link told her after that story. “That’s what they were trying to say a little bit ago, but I wanted to finish listening to the story.”
“I’m glad you were enjoying it,” Zelda told him, cheeks warm.
“I think I could listen to you for more than just a few hours, Sheik.”
She glanced down at her feet, then back up to meet his eyes. “I think I could talk to you for just as long, Link.”
They still sat there for a while, but then she realized it was a little pointless to remain here if she could go back now. Even if she still wanted to linger. She stood, and Link stood next to her, and her flitting glances to him were met with his own.
“Well,” she finally began. “What do I need to do to go back, then?”
Navi rang out instructions that Link translated. “You need to go back through the log you came here in.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she frowned. “That simple?”
“That simple. You’ll see.”
And with everything else that had happened that day, she suspected that she would, even if she didn’t quite understand how.
So she walked up to the lip of the log, hesitating. A few seconds wouldn’t make much difference in how panicked everyone would be when they discovered her missing, so she wanted to linger in this moment a bit longer.
Zelda turned to Link, realizing that more than the escape and the magic and everything about today, that he—the first real friend she had ever made, even if it had only been a few hours—was what she would miss the most about today. “Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”
He tilted his head, smiling at her, before he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “It’s a spell,” he explained, face as warm as hers was. “We will see each other again.”
Afraid to ruin the moment with a reminder that this was a goodbye, she only kept her eyes on his for a few lingering seconds before she turned her gaze forward and took a deep breath before exiting the clearing.
When she emerged from the other side of the log tunnel, she found that they were right. It really was that simple. She wasn’t right at the line of trees, but the open plain was easily within sight. She paused to cast one last look towards the hollow log, only to worry that the looking away might get her lost again. She turned back and it was still there, but she didn’t want to test if that luck would hold again.
Zelda brought a hand up to her cheek. He had promised, and while she did not know if Kokiri let alone not a true Kokiri were as beholden to promises as Fæ were, she trusted his word that she would see him again. She trusted him even more than the spell.
So she ran the distance to the open plain, where she discovered it had apparently only been a few minutes since she was noticed disappearing into the woods. She was scolded and questioned to confirm she was truly Zelda and not troublesome Kokiri, and her answering with questions of her own seemed to satisfy Impa on that front.
Not that, after today, being a Kokiri sounded bad at all.
As they were loading into carriages, about to leave, Zelda cast one glance back towards the forest. And she caught sight of a boy in green peeking from behind a tree with blue, yellow, and violet lights hovering nearby.