The boy behind the Sword
The atmosphere was gloomy and heavy hearted. Around the tub were gathered only a few people. Much less than there should have been to bid farewell to the man who laid inside, half immersed in liquid, covered in wounds, cuts and bruises, each one of them enough to end the life of a less stubborn individual. One of them stepped forward and broke the silence. He was the captain of the royal Guard, one of the best swords in the service of the realm, a man loved and respected by every man and woman in the room. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, grief painted on his face. He coughed and he tried again, this time with more confidence:
He was different. That was obvious for all of us. When we were just kids, running around the streets, laughing and getting our clothes muddy, Link spent most of his time at the training grounds, his tiny hands around a wooden sword his father had made for him, his eyes wide open like he was trying to see everything, like he was afraid that if he ever blinked, he would miss something truly remarkable that life had been waiting to show him. We used to think he feared going away from his parents, both renowned members of the royal guard… nothing further from the truth.
Despite being quite a jolly child, he hardly ever spoke to anyone at all. Maybe he never felt the need to do it. His deep blue eyes could tell you all you needed to know. Or at least, all he wanted you to know.
“Heey Link! Wanna come and play hide and seek?” — No answer. Just a deep stare, a polite but sheepish smile and a subtle headshake.
The boys soon stopped asking. As for me, even If I didn’t speak to him, I couldn’t help sharing his fascination with the training guards. The swords, the halberds, the armor… everything was so shiny and amazing. I told my dad I wanted to train too, like Link did. He laughed at me like I was talking nonsense and told me off to play knights with a tree branch or something. That was the first time my dad disappointed me. I was only three. It wouldn’t be the last…
By the age of four, Link was famous in the whole town. They said he was a genius, that he had beaten adult knights in single combat with his ridiculously small sword. They said the weapon had been a present of the princess of the Zora and that it was made of a type of metal, so light, even a child his age could wield it. Whenever people saw him carrying the blade they would whisper in concern and disapproval, but never dared to address his parents about it. If he ever noticed all of that, he did not seem to pay any mind to it. He continued about his business, his smile unaltered.
I like to think it was the will of the Goddess that brought our fates together, two children from such different backgrounds as we were. One, the only son of two of the finest soldiers defending the crown of Hyrule, a well-off family living in the inner circle of the castle walls; the other, the youngest son of a drunk farmer and his tormented wife, with nothing but what we sold each day to survive the next… That assuming my dad got something left after visiting the tavern.
The night I met Link, the real Link, not the made up person the town had built upon rumors, was a chilly night in the winter of my 6th year of life. That night was particularly bad at home. My parents had started yelling so loud my eldest brother took my sister and me out of the house and into the barn through the window of our bedroom. He used to do that, so we wouldn’t hear the beatings. There he used to tell us stories of heroes and princesses of ancient times until we fell asleep on the straw. That night, though, the fight was so intense we could hear it from our hideout. I remember I couldn’t stop crying and my brother got so anxious he slapped me across the face. Poor thing, I think over the following week he apologized like a thousand times for that. But at that moment he just looked at me as scared as if he had seen a ghost. We stayed like that for a half second that felt like a half hour, fear and anger boiling in the silence between us. Then I started crying again and I ran away into the open night.
I don’t know how long I run, nor what I run from or what I was expecting to find. But what I found was Link. First I heard the metallic clash of sword fighting, then the haul of a wolf and then silence. And, suddenly, he appeared running —sword in hand— and froze surprised at the sight of me. We both stared at each other. He was sweaty, panting —steam coming out of his mouth with each breath— and covered with bruises. It seemed he had been involved in quite a fight. As for me, I was a mess of snot and tears, shivering and trying to conceal the hiccups, with my clothes scratched and dirty from a couple of falls. We must have offered quite a scene to behold.
He reacted quicker: he sheathed his sword within a second and run to me. He took me by the shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. Then he said in the thinnest whisper:
“It’s ok”. — Just two words, but a whole world behind.
He took me to his improvised camp: a few wooden logs around a weak fire between two big rocks. We sat there and he put a jacket over my shoulders. It was very soft and warm. The type of clothes they wore in the inner circle. He gave me a cloth to wipe my eyes and nose and put a shy hand on my shoulder.
“It’s ok”. — Again barely audible.
We stayed like that for some time, in complete silence but for the crackling of the fire. Somehow it was reassuring. It made me feel peaceful and safe.
At some point he stood up and started cleaning his sword. He was very meticulous: first he cleaned the blade with a clean cloth, then he honed it with the whetstone and finally he oiled it until it shone reflecting the light of the fire. Seeing him take care of his weapon, made me want to fill in the silence so I hesitantly tried to start a conversation.
“Ehm… thanks for… this.” — He nodded. — “You’re Link, right? My name is Ben” — I said, resting one hand on my chest.
“I know” — He tilted his head to one side and looked at me like I had said something funny.
“He knows”— I thought, and I felt myself blush. There weren’t that many kids our age in the town but Link was some kind of epic character out of one of my brother’s stories for me at that time. To think that he knew my name was a little overwhelming.
I began speaking again, slow and clumsy at first, a little more confident after some minutes. He carefully put down his tools in a leather pouch and sat in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. I did most of the talking. He threw in the occasional smile, or sigh, or gesture with his hand. A couple of times he even laughed. I commenced with small talk but soon it derived into sword fighting which was a subject we both shared common interest in. That, however, took me to my dad and the situation in my family. I don’t really know why I opened up so much that night. I had never said those things out loud. I knew they were happening but somehow not talking about them had made them less real for me. I broke into tears again but Link did not blink twice. He did not make me feel bad for crying. He did not treat me like a little broken kid either. He patiently waited until I was able to carry on with the story and listened to every bit of it with the same degree of attention he paid to his sword.
That night was the first of many others. Soon I discovered that Link went there to train while his parents thought he was sleeping. When I asked what would happen if they found out, he covered his mouth with one hand and let escape a nervous giggle. I also learnt that he didn’t like me to go see him too early. If I did, he would be thinking about the missed practice time and neither of us would enjoy the conversation. When I asked him why he refused to train in front of me, he shook his head and looked at me very serious. I never asked again.
Despite the odd conditions, once the rules were settled, we developed quite a good relationship and not too long after our first meeting, we started spending a lot of time together. Not only at night when we slipped away from our house but also during the day. I quite enjoyed his silent company: We both liked climbing the castle walls and looking down on the city, or peeking on the royal guards during their drills, but above all, he was a good listener. He made sure you could feel he was listening. And at that time… I think I really needed that. Sometimes his eyes were too intimidating and I found myself looking away as I spoke, but whenever I came back I always met with those blue stars fixed on me. He rarely talked back, but he always found a way to show he cared.
When I turned seven, he told me he had convinced his father to teach me how to use a sword. Or, actually, he dragged me to the training grounds and his father told me. I had met the man before. By that time Link and I were inseparable, so I had had several chances to meet his family. Seeing him in full armor at less than two feet distance was a different thing, though. It was one of the best days of my life. I had been all my life playing with sticks so I thought I knew some stuff. I was completely wrong. Sir Aaron said we would cover everything: footwork, balance and different techniques to become a real swordsman. Of course, I was euphoric. I was finally going to become one of those knights in shining armor of the stories… And just like that, we dropped all our other projects, our exploring expeditions through the caves around Hyrule Castle Town, our long failed quest to tame a wild horse, our bug catching contest… all of it, and begun spending all our time at the training grounds.
It turned out to be much harder that I had imagined it to be. It took me almost a year until I managed to make some decent moves. Meanwhile, I discovered my friend’s ability. He did not fight. He danced. He jumped around his opponents —yes, plural, because fighting just one man was no longer a challenge for Link—, using their attacks against them and making them look like slow, cumbersome clowns. His sword seemed always to be in the right spot, like he could see the exact place the openings would arise in his adversary’s guard. It was astonishing. The way our teacher treated us was very different too. With me, sir Aaron was methodical and meticulous, although nurturing. He would always find the way to correct me in a positive way, to keep me motivated. With his son he changed his attitude completely. He was no longer a teacher. He was a mischievous friend. He never said when Link had done something good, he just whistled in awe. Then again, when he messed up, he laughed at him from the bottom of his belly. He came up with all kinds of different trials for his son to attempt, each one of them more complicated than the previous one. All of them were sooner or later successfully completed. It was clear that Link had been born to wield a sword. As for me… having him as my only comparison made me think I wasn’t too good at it. But I still enjoyed it so I never left and I gave everything I had in every exercise. It took me years to realize who I was comparing myself to and to recognize that I could become the man I am today.
Between the songs of steel Link invited me to dance and the ones of words I composed myself for his ears only, the years went by and we grew up. We became the youngest fully armed royal guards in history. I took my mother and siblings to live with me in my barrack. Soon after that, my father died, drowned in alcohol. It was a relief, but, at the same time I felt sick for being happy about it, until my dear friend took me far away into the wild. We ran, we screamed, we talked and when we came back two days later I no longer felt bad for not being sad. After that we began going on field trips every now and then. During those years, we conquered some of our long forgotten childhood dreams: we tamed a horse, we climbed to the top of the Sanctum, we learnt how to use bow and arrow… And we met the princess… I mean, not in person. Not yet, at least. But we saw her from time to time, always from afar, always with her perfect golden hair. I was thirteen. I had just started to see I was better than most of the knights of the guard. I was not embarrassingly better like Link was, who, at that age could best any knight using nothing more than a toothpick, but only a bit better, just enough for my pride to flourish. I was young and foolish and proud… and I fell in love with the Princess Zelda.
I couldn’t stop talking about her. I dreamed about her. Link laughed at me and pretended to cover his ears whenever I started blabbering about her again. However, it did not bother him to help me find all the possible secret passages into the castle so we could have a glimpse of whatever Zelda was doing that day. It became our new pastime. He made me swear I would stay away from her chambers, though.
“Respect” — He said very seriously. And I blushed as those things thirteen-year-old boys think rushed through my mind.
We were truly happy. Those years were the very best of my life. However, the power of the darkness was growing and while we carelessly enjoyed our time, the return of Calamity Ganon was closer every day. The princess was aware of that, so she traveled a lot to the regions where the Divine Beasts were being dug out. Very few people in the realm were informed of this. We were not part of that group.
Our destiny changed radically the day of the tournament. We all remember that tournament because it was the last before the prophecy was made public. The occasion was the return of the princess that had been praying in the Spring of Courage. It lasted for three days and the citadel was prettier than ever. The winner was to receive the favor of the princess and her blessing, along with a respectable amount of rupees. I was frenzied. I had to win. In my head, that was my one and only chance to speak with Zelda. My excitement turned into inspiration and I did a great job in the matches. I made my way through the first rounds with ease and then I defeated some men I never thought I could have ever beaten. When I found myself qualified for the final I couldn’t believe it. I was the happiest man on Hyrule. Not even the perspective of facing Link in combat for the first time could make me lose my conviction. But then the day came. It was a sunny afternoon. We had been waiting the whole morning for the princess to arrive for the final, but she had been delayed. There was a lot of expectation, but also an uneasy feeling had started to sink in as the day advanced and the princess was still not there. At some point, a Sheikah approached the referees and whispered something in their ears. They talked in low voice for a long time and eventually declared the match was to take place immediately. The princess was safe and well and she would be joining soon. I didn’t like that. I wanted Zelda to see the match… Link liked the message even less. His parents were accompanying the princess in her pilgrimage, so the unusual situation had him on his nerves. Hadn’t I been so immerse in my fantasy, maybe I would have noticed what troubled my friend, but that day I mistook his nerves and thought he was unsure he could win. What a fool I was.
We shook our hands. I had a fierce look of determination, his gaze, on the other hand, was lost beyond the yard, looking for someone. The head of the referees gave the signal and I jumped onto my friend. I was burning with adrenaline, convinced that I could defeat a whole army if they came for me. For a second, our eyes met, and it was like time had frozen. Then Link made a sad face and moved. Our swords clashed. Once, twice… there wasn’t a third time. Before I realized how, Link had danced around me, tapped the back of my knees with the blunt sword —just enough to make me lose balance but not enough to even leave a bruise— and made the gesture of slitting my throat that granted him an unarguable victory. It was over in less than a minute. Silence took over the plaza.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I need to leave. I have a terrible feeling” — He whispered in my ear.
That was the longest sentence Link ever said to me. I hated him for humiliating me. I hated him for being sorry. I hated myself for hating him. I hated that, deep down; I knew I couldn’t have won. I hated that he was right, that the fight was not important for him; he had to be somewhere else. I cried in the middle of the yard. I cried like the beaten child I was. Meanwhile, Link dropped the tournament sword and run to the barracks. Nobody said a word. Nobody stopped him.
It took some time for me to get back to my senses. My mum had taken me in her arms to soothe my sobbing and by the time I looked around, the crowd that had gathered to see the match had already dissolved. The princess never came. Then somebody, I don’t even remember who, told me the news: Link’s parents were dead. The convoy escorting the princess had been ambushed by a horde of monsters on their way back. They had managed to repel the attack but the wounds they suffered were too severe. They both died shortly after. I felt sick. I asked where Link was and run towards the place, but when I arrived there, I found only some fellow guards paying their respects to the two covered corpses. He had left, they told me. They had tried to stop him but he had drawn his sword and threatened them in rage. No one had dared to face him.
“Stupid cowards” — I called them. And I run to chase my friend.
They had told me he had left running so I took a horse and prayed he hadn’t thought the same. If he had taken a horse, with almost an hour of advantage I would never catch him. But if he was on foot, I believed I knew where he was headed.
I galloped south towards the mount Gustaf. That was the place where our old hideout was. We hadn’t used it in ages, but I somehow knew Link would look for shelter there. When I arrived, the fire was already started and my friend was staring at it with an empty look. Cast aside, his sword was laying on the ground, the edges, dented. He had been hitting the rocks with it. With one glance I knew it was good for nothing anymore. I approached him slowly. Only then I realized he had been crying. His eyes were red and you could see the path that tears had painted on his face. I sat beside him. He didn’t even look at me. I put my arm around his shoulders. He stiffened for a second, then let go.
“I’m sorry, about everything. I’m here for you. I-I can’t pretend to imagine what you’re going through but… I just wanted to let you know I’m here.” — I said unsure.
He didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t find the words. Maybe he didn’t want to. But he leaned in, resting his head on my shoulder and cried again. And I held him and cried too, for the pain was too strong for just one heart.
I woke up hours later. Dawn was starting to break beneath the mountains. Link was still asleep, but he moved uneasy in his dreams. He frowned and breathed heavily. Suddenly he reached out with one hand and woke up startled and panting.
“Did you… see them?” — I asked hesitantly. — “Your parents?”
He looked at me confused and rubbed his face. Then he shook his head in denial.
“It calls me” — He said. And without any other comment he got up and pulled my sleeve.
We got on the horse and started galloping. I asked a billion times where were we going, but I think he didn’t even know it at that point. He was following an instinct, a calling voice from a dream.
The trip lasted days and took us north of Hyrule fields, to a land neither of us had ever been to. We traveled fast and spoke little. We hunted to eat and slept under a tree or a rock. I knew my family would be worried sick but I just couldn’t abandon my friend at that moment. At night when the horse simply couldn’t take one more step he got off and curled up on the ground bracing his knees while I made the fire. To this day I do not know how much of his troubled mind was caused by the sudden death of his parents, and how much by the voice that pulled him towards our destination. Whatever the case, it was clear he felt tortured, and even though Link got over those dark days, he was never the same cheerful kid anymore. During that journey, he became the grave man we all know. Maybe that’s the toll he paid for being the chosen one.
After 4 days we arrived at a foggy forest. It was, by far, the scariest place I had ever been to. Link tied the horse to a tree and told me to wait for him. My jaw dropped.
“There’s no way you’re going in there alone” — I said resolved.
He nodded, not willing to argue, and turned around walking into the mist. I ran behind, afraid I would get lost from him. We walked in what seemed an erratic, random path for hours. I thought myself lost for good after the first 5 minutes but Link took my head in his hands and looked directly into my soul.
“We’re close. I feel it.” — He said, and I could feel his determination in my guts.
Just when I was going to give up all hope and tell Link we needed to think of a strategy to get out of that horrible place, the fog opened up and we found ourselves in a beautiful clearing surrounded by trees. Opposite to us, a huge deku tree grew three times as tall as the rest. At its feet, a shiny object reflected the sunlight filtering between the leaves. As we got closer, we saw it was a sword. The most beautiful sword I had ever seen. Link approached it. It was carefully placed in a marble pedestal but branches and bushes had grown around it. When Link stepped on the stone structure, the land trembled and a deep voice struck our eardrums:
“You who has felt the call of the Goddess. You through whose veins flow the blood of the hero. You whose fate is bound to the Calamity. Come forward. Fulfill your destiny and wake the sword that seals the darkness from its long overdue slumber.”
I fell to the ground. I couldn’t believe what I was living. The tree was speaking. To us! And it had called my friend a hero, and asked him to draw a legendary sword from a stone. It looked like I was being part of a story. Link, however, did not flinch. He walked forward and ripped the bushes growing over the sword. Then placed his hands around the hilt and pulled. The few seconds that followed are blurry in my memory, but I’ll do my best to describe what I saw: When Link pulled the sword, the wind stopped. All sounds were suddenly muffled and for roughly ten seconds I could hear his heartbeat: laborious, slow. Then there was an explosion of light that blinded my sight and the voice of the tree filled my head again:
“You are the hero who will slay the Beast. You are the champion of light. You are the master of the sword that seals the darkness, imbued with the spirit of the Goddess. Do not neglect this gift, for the realm needs your courage in this dark hour.”
When the light faded out and I was able to see again, I found myself laying on stone, rather than grass. I stood up and looked around to recognize the Sacred Grounds right south to the Castle Town walls. I rubbed my face. “Did I dream all of it?” —I thought—. But then I saw Link. He was standing on the center of the dais, holding the sword with both hands and gasping for breath. I ran to him and called his name. He looked at me with a concerned face.
“I… I can hear her” —He said.
The speech was abruptly interrupted by the shout of a sheikah sentinel at the gate.
“Guardian coming!!!! Everyone out now!!!!” —He screamed over the voice of the captain.
Guards and Sheikah moved at once like a well oiled machine. They evacuated the shrine in a matter of seconds. Only Ben, Impa, the sage and Purah and Robbie, the scientists stayed. Ben payed a last mourning look at his friend as Purah typed in the commands to seal the shrine of resurrection.
“Farewell, my friend. May we meet again in the bosom of the Goddess” —He said and quickly moved to the Sheikah— “You need to get out of here now and hide. Split up, go as far as you can and wait for him to wake up. At least one of you needs to make it alive to guide him or all of this will be for nothing.”
“What do you plan to do?” —Asked Impa concerned.
Ben swallowed.
“I’ll buy you some time. How difficult can it be to deflect those beams, huh? He killed a hundred of them today, I think I’ll be able to handle one just fine.”
They all knew he was lying.