The Lost Woods aren’t so bad.
Not after traversing them more times then Link can count, at least. Sure the paths shift, and monsters occasionally slip their way inside to hide in the bushes and trees, but Link knows the way to the clearing where he needs to go.
The forest only needs to let him.
His boots cut through soft grass, an occasional crunch belaying a leaf. The song of the woods is on the wind, and Link follows its winding tune, the pipes of water, strings and drums of leaves and branches. Quiet giggles make his ears twitch, but Link knows to ignore them.
He plays the game of the Woods, walking its paths, watching poes with a careful eye to see where they lead. The song dances by, high and low, loud and soft, and the flute that sometimes joins it makes his heart ache.
Time stretches strangely under the canopy of trees and fog— Link feels like he’s been here for hours now, but the glimpses of sunshine that peek through the branches are no different from how it was when he arrived. Link passes through another clearing, doubt beginning to nip at his heels. They’re not called the Lost Woods for no reason after all, and he’s starting to wonder if he hasn’t passed their test this time.
Is it because of what I’ve done since last I’ve been here?
But then something in the air, in him, clicks, eases, Link doesn’t know the word. But it’s like a fog lifts from his vision, and the path he needs to take is suddenly obvious. Link follows the pull past flowers and stones, over a barely-there path. It guides him through the yawning mouth of a log, and birds softly chirp as he emerges into a familiar clearing.
Fog drifts past his boots as he looks around, and a single shaft of sunlight breaks past the trees, drawing his vision to sparkling blue.
Link exhales, and steps forward, squirrels and other small creatures darting away into the bushes. He steps up onto the small stone platform, and doesn’t move for a long moment, looking at where the Master Sword sits with wisps of fog and sunlight dancing around her. Waiting for him.
“Hey old girl,” Link says softly, and for some reason his throat aches as he rests a hand on her hilt. “Been a while.”
The metal under his skin is both hot and cold, warmed by the sun’s light, and cooled by the stone it rests in. Despite years exposed to the elements, the Master Sword isn’t covered in greenery like it was the first time Link found her. Nor is her shine diminished in the slightest. Her blade is dimmed only because she rests, her power waiting for the next hero who needs her.
Who just happens to be Link again.
A shaking sigh escapes him, and Link puts both of his hands around her hilt, the electrifying hot-and-cold sharp-and-soft thrill of her power zipping through him as he pulls.
The Master Sword slips loose just like it did when he pulled her the first time, and Link raises her to the sky, the fog parting and fading away. The sunlight brightens somehow, making her sparkle and glow, and Link’s throat tightens again.
He hadn’t realized until now how badly he’d missed her.
Link lowers the blade again, running a hand over her cool steel as he studies her, looking over her finer points to familiarize himself with the weapon once again. Something is different, he realizes after a minute or two. And when it finally dawns on him what it is, he holds the Master Sword tighter, almost hugging her.
“I’ve grown,” he says quietly.
The blade fits his size now.
Instead of the still-pudgy hands of a child grasping at her hilt, there’s the worn hands of an adventurer ghosting along the metal, scars catching in her grooves. There’s blood staining his hands now that wasn’t there before, yet she still allowed him to pull her.
“You fit better, now,” he continues, voice shaking a little. “Hopefully this’ll... make things easier.”
His breath hitches, and Link swallows it back, clasping the sacred blade in his arms like one would an old friend.
He squeezes his eyes closed.
“I guess I thought I wouldn’t be doing this again,” Link whispers, ghosting his fingers along the gem in her hilt. “Not... not after the last one.”
The metal seems to warm just a hair, like the sunshine got pulled into it, and Link rests his head against the Master Sword, allowing a single drop of saltwater to trail down his cheek.
“Thanks,” he croaks, and the softest, faintest of chimes echoes in his heart.
It’s enough to pull him from the grief that was threatening to swallow him up again, and Link sets aside the weight of an island, and focuses instead on the weight of the sword, and his kingdom.
He’s needed. He can’t get lost in grief.
Link breathes out, running his hand along the steel one more time, and then he gently sheathes her, stepping down from the platform.
“Here we go again old girl,” he says as he steps outside of the clearing, weary with grief, but determined to stop the evil returning yet again.
A single pure note chimes in his chest, and Link feels something other than grief wrap itself around him, urging him forward to take another step, to press on despite the weight.
It feels a little bit like hope.
