Chapter Text
He didn’t know what was going on.
Memories that were him but not flowed through his brain, a mind too big in a body too small. The pack of warriors, their massive wolf, and the giant figure flying overhead–they were familiar. But Link didn’t know them. He couldn’t have known them. He was scared. He hurt. These men wanted to take him away and had said something about breaking him.
It felt like a dream that he didn’t want to leave.
It felt like a nightmare.
Link just wanted to get away. But the wolf stopped him. He had lost the sword (his uncle’s sword? the sword he was supposed to deliver?), and they were closing in. He saw the smaller sword, the one that he could lift with his arms (too small, why were they too small?) and grabbed it. And then everything had fallen apart. He had fallen apart. There was already too little of him, stretched too thin.
Link sagged in the arms of the one holding him, will spent. And then he opened his eyes again.
He was a few feet away, sprawled on the ground. There was a short (how was he short? He was taller than Link?) man holding what looked like a life-sized doll with a sword dangling from its hand. Two other dolls, holding swords aloft with faces made of stone, stood behind him.
“What’s going on?” One of the warriors raised a bow uncertainly.
“This isn’t normally what happens.” The short one looked at the doll in his arms in panic. “Why isn’t he moving?!”
Link carefully scooted back, trying to escape. The wolf noticed, quickly bounding to his side and sniffing him. The beast licked his face, whining slightly (that wasn’t a threat. He was all bark and no bite, it wasn’t—). Link tried to tell it to get back, but his throat felt choked. He needed to get away, needed to escape. He squeezed his eyes shut…
And reopened them on the opposite side of the clearing. He was standing next to the other stone faced doll, holding a sword aloft. He was only able to take half a step back when the second shortest hero’s eyes snapped to him (he was always observant. He always knew where to look). “He’s in this one!”
Before he could run the group (his brothers? but he had no brothers—) grabbed hold of all the dolls. Link tried squeezing his eyes shut, bouncing to another body, but they were all held—firmly but gently. The tallest man with the scarf had one, the one with scars had another, and the one in blue who had ratted him out held the third. Link squirmed, his mind jumping back to the one held by the shortest. He tried to beg to be let go, but his voice just came as a pathetic, wobbling cry (why—why—he knew them, he didn’t know them—). He was so scared, so overwhelmed… his brothers weren’t here to protect him, because he had none. They weren’t here—
His hands itched.
He grabbed wildly around, his mind bouncing from shell to shell, fracturing further as the hands gripped handles of weapons that had been equipped yet set aside in haste to catch him. More memories twisted in the void between his thoughts, of knights pursuing, dogs nipping at his heels, monsters and men, dreams and curses, swords and bows and fire rods and hammers—
“Whoa. Vet, it’s ok.. set it down…” The scarf one let go, hands up in a placating gesture. The fire rod in Link’s hands crackled slightly, his magic filling it. He pointed it shakily at the group, the other dolls imitating the gesture with their own stolen weapons. “We aren’t going to hurt you. We’re you’re brothers.”
The word bounced in between four heads with barely enough thought between them to stay upright. Brothers. He had no brothers. A face like his tried to bubble up in his memories, but it was dark haired and grinning, not fair and frightened like this man. He didn’t know them (he knew them he knew them he knew them as well as he knew the items in his hands). The hands tightened, one drawing a bow that it should have been too small to wield.
“Please. Link, we only want to—“
The hammer, almost comic in its massive size, was raised.
The short one holding the last body, the one with the sword still clutched in its hands, only hugged him tighter. He could feel the pressure, trapping his arms, a face buried into the top of his head. The thought that Four shouldn’t be taller than him, he would make fun of him for being short—
Who was Four? The smith. But no, that wasn’t the smith he knew, mustachioed and tall. That was his brother. Not dark haired and green eyed, not monsters—
No. No, this was…
This was a nightmare.
Wind parried, dodging the swipe of the hammer. His eyes were wide in fear as he tried grabbing the doll’s shoulders. “Snap out of it, vet! It’s us!”
Warriors barely had time to throw his shield in the way, the fire rod scorching the metal. The flames weren’t hot enough to burn him through the shield. Wolfie backed away, whining. A bowstring twanged, but the shot went wide. The doll was too small to wield a bow like this, and it had no more arrows. Wild tackled it, sending it crashing to the ground. He pinned the doll’s arms and legs, preventing it from rising or trying to snatch more.
The doll with the fire rod abruptly turned, aiming the weapon at Wild in an attempt to free its fallen brother. Wind yanked out a boomerang, sending it sailing into the side of the rod just in time to prevent it from scorching the champion. Twilight dove, snatching the rod in his jaws and racing out of reach.
The doll with the hammer swept the weapon at Warriors, trying to batter his shield away, but the captain parried the blow, sending the child-sized doll falling on its bum. It made no move to reclaim its weapon, covering its face. Warriors grabbed the hammer, tossing it aside and pulling the doll’s hands behind its back. “Calm down. This isn’t you!”
The doll in Four’s arms didn’t move, still wrapped in the smithy’s hug. The others struggled, but this one only whimpered faintly, an occasional shiver passing through it. “Don’t…”
Four blinked. It had spoken? Legend hadn’t said anything since they found him.
“Don’t hurt them…”
“We’re doin’ our best here—“ Wind was trying to stop one from reclaiming the fire rod.
“No! Don’t hurt them!”
The doll in Four’s arms wobbled, the other dolls going suddenly limp. The one raising the fire rod towards Wind collapsed into the sailor’s arms. The body in Four’s arms relaxed, eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t want to hurt you… I know you…” The doll keened. “Don’t wanna lose you too…”
“What’s he mean, lose us too?” Wild stored his bow back in his slate.
Warriors snatched his fire rod away from the doll’s reach. “Maybe… the Old Man? He was there when he got hurt.”
“He was… he was dying…” The doll shuddered as tears ran out from its face, its voice ratcheting up in grief. “…thought I could go back and help him… but instead…”
Wind sighed. “He’s ok, Vet. The Traveler and Cap got to him in time.”
“He… he’s not dead..?” The doll shuddered. Overhead he could hear wings, see a spot disappearing into the sun. It wasn’t a dream. He was awake. He knew it was awake. “But… but I saw…”
“We found a fairy.” Warriors’ voice was surprisingly gentle. “He’s going to be ok. I checked him myself, and he’s just a little sore and tired.”
“That’s good… I’m tired too…” The voice was slowly fading. If this was a dream… it wasn’t the worst he’d had. “You’ll still be here when I… when I wake up, right..?”
Warriors was carefully scooping a doll up. “Do we need to carry him all back to camp or can you, uh. Put him back together?”
Four shifted his grip protectively, making the doll’s head roll against his chest. His head hurt still, but this felt safe. “He’d have to be awake, at least the way I’m used to. And I think he needs the rest.”
“Actually, given that he’s concussed you really shouldn’t let him sleep.” Wind shook the doll in his arms lightly. “Cmon Vet. Stay awake till we get a potion in you.”
He let them rouse him begrudgingly. “Just need you to touch your swords together, ok? And think of being one.”
“M’kay…” Be one? He wasn’t one. He was them, they were him. But not him. No, they were… something he didn’t want to lose.
Four nodded at the other three to let go. The dolls moved slowly, standing stiffly and lifting the swords to touch together. In a flash, there was only one Legend, maybe twelve, crouched on the ground. The Four Sword lay in the dirt in front of him, hands wrapped around his knees with his face hidden.
“I could have killed you…” He shied from Four’s touch. “I was so scared. I didn’t know who…” His fists clenched. “But I knew your things.”
Four picked up the blade, sheathing it, and knelt to look into Legend’s face. “I had an old hat. It was given to me by a dear friend who I can’t see any longer.” Legend didn’t move. “It’s not magic. It was just something to remind me of him. When it tore, I cried like I had lost him all over again.”
Legend looked up, blinking at tears. Four was playing with a charm on the end of his hood, eyes distant.
“People say stuff is just stuff, but stuff is also memories made real.”
Overhead, a distant song was fading.
“Stuff is proof it happened, and that people cared.”
Four touched the handle of his sword.
“Stuff is how we remember the person we were with them. And become that person to other people.”
Legend shivered. The last of the time magic seemed to shed off him, returning him to normal size.
“Let’s get back to camp.” Warriors helped Legend up, supporting his weight when the smaller hero wobbled. “You need a potion, and if Hyrule finds out you were running around with a concussion he might give you a second one.”
—
The large city they had landed in bustled, but Legend preferred staying in the inn. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the combination of magic from the Ocarina and Four Sword, occasionally spacing out as if looking at a place long past or trying to find a second set of hands that didn’t exist anymore. The others took turns sitting in the inn with the collector, as well as Time, as he was still stiff from the blast and back injury. Legend was glad for it, taking out notebooks to write down the stories they told and drawing the Chain and their equipment. He wouldn’t forget them when this ended.
After they had settled in he had told them he’d experienced something similar on a former quest, though he had recovered from using the Doppels faster since he had been a teen when he used them. Four had begrudgingly explained how the Four Sword worked, that it didn’t make more of him, but let the various parts of his personality physically discuss problems before unifying once more. Because Legend had split with the unformed personality of a child, there hadn’t been enough to go around. Legend could only remember it faintly, like a bad dream. He still dreamt the Windfish was following him, but it felt more comforting than before. The song echoed as he fell asleep, reminding him of fond memories and quiet evenings. It wasn’t a thing, but it was what he had left of Koholint, all the same. The Windfish had loved that dream too, but it was willing to share.
He came down to the common area a week later to find everyone clustered around a table, eating breakfast. Wild served him some pancakes, adding heaps of berries on top without even needing to be asked. Legend knew the champion had his own notebook full of recipes, food preferences, and allergies. Wild remembered through food in the same way Legend did through items.
“There’s something we need to discuss.” Time sat by him, looking grave. Legend shrunk down, but Time smiled and offered him a box. Legend took it, wary as he opened it up.
The first thing he noticed was a carved piece of obsidian, triangular and glinting with etched runes. He nearly threw the box away in surprise, but he realized he couldn’t sense the Rancher’s twilit magic coming from the stone. The crystal was too small, and several other baubles hung from the chain. A delicate carved wooden harp, painted gold and as big as his thumbnail. A silver baton with breezy swirls made from intricate twists of wire. A rod with a marble for its head made of a tiny lapis, a clay charm shaped like an ocarina glazed bright blue, a slate with a glass screen filled with tiny azure grains of sand that shifted with shook, a scrap of hardened leather embroidered with blue thread into a 2 dimensional boot, and a tiny blade with a golden handle and four tiny stones in the pommel. Each charm was light as a feather, connected to a chain that could be easily worn around the neck.
“This… must have cost a fortune.”
“We made some of them.” Hyrule puffed up in pride. “They aren’t magic, except a thing the smith did to keep them from breaking, but they’re… you know. Something to remember us by.”
Legend stared at the necklace, stunned.
“You do like it, right?” Wild twisted his hair anxiously. “We couldn’t really agree on a style, we all kind of made our own thing…”
Legend nodded. He loved it. He fastened it around his neck, feeling the way the charms had been shaped so they wouldn’t dig into his skin. “I… I have to give you something in return, this is—“
“You don’t have to, Vet.” Time patted his shoulder, but Wind elbowed Legend on the side.
“Don’t listen to Time. I want a fire rod!”