Chapter Text
It’s not so much that Talon is in a hurry to get back as it is that, well, the milk run is almost boring now in comparison to the lively nature of the ranch since Link’s boys have come around. Even the pub, when he walks in the door, seems a quiet, dingy sort of place after everything back home, and even though the bartender waves to him with a smile and a couple other old regulars raise their heads to greet him, the old farmer finds himself simply leaving his delivery at the counter with a word of thanks and a smile before he’s off again, rather than staying to socialize.
Sure, most of Link’s boys aren’t over keen on his company, but persistence is key with boys like that, and he’s got a great start on that Legend lad, hasn’t he?
The ride home is a light and cheery whistling on his lips and a wind on his face, breeze sharp but not cruel as he and old Bess make their way along the road, wagon wheels creaking and grass flowing off in waves on either side of them. Somewhere near the ranch’s edges, the old mare’s ears perk up towards the left, and when he looks, he can see two of their house guests out in the fields, mounted up on mares of their own and racing among the herd as it thunders past, hooves shaking the ground beneath him and loud whoops sounding between the two boys.
It’s a good sight.
Malon and Link used to do that too, though it’ll be a bit, he supposes, before they can again, what with Link’s bust arm and all.
The boys are enjoying themselves though, hair whipping in the wind and faces flushed as they thunder on past him, and a chuckle builds deep in his chest as he watches them disappear again ahead of him and Bess, riding far faster than the old cart horse has gone in ages.
“Jealous, old girl?” He asks, as the dust begins to clear.
Bess nickers softly and tosses her head, as if to huff something about “silly young fillies”. He doesn’t know really, but it’s funny to imagine her huffing and tutting under her breath at her younger herd-mates while they prance along rather than work as she does. That imaginary huffing (were it actually happening) would come abruptly to a stop however as they turn into the barnyard of Lon Lon proper and are not even fully through the gates before Link comes springing up from seemingly nowhere, darting in front of the carthorse like he’s forgotten how dangerous such a thing is. Talon hasn’t a second to say anything about it though before there’s a second form running across Bess’s path and making the old girl pull up short, nostrils flaring as the short blonde figure darts after Link.
And then come the shouts.
“Face your crimes!” Malon is darting along, barely dodging around the cart, a maniacal grin on her face and a cuckoo held high over her head almost like she’s nine again and thinks it’ll somehow help her to fly.
“Come on, Wind,” and there’s a second person darting along- Sky, he thinks, the only one with a somewhat normal name- two cuckoos tucked under his arms and face stretched into a wide, cheery, entirely innocent smile as he almost flies along after the farmer’s daughter, “what are you, scared?”
“Get the devil birds away!” Link is laughing, but it sounds near hysterical as he slips, skids, almost falls flat on his side in his haste to dart around the cart, putting the old slats between himself and Malon, peeking through them with a flushed face and both eyes wide.
Talon will ever get used to seeing that, honestly.
His daughter lifts her cuckoo higher, grinning even wider and glancing to her fellow trouble maker who smiles back and slowly starts moving back around Bess’s front, shooting a cautious glance at the horse, and Talon behind her, cuckoos clutched close as he creeps round to where Link is apparently hiding, the little one tucked close to his side.
“Time, ambush!”
“Shit! Abort, sailor! Abort!”
“After them, Sky!”
And then they’re off again, the two blondes scrambling and his daughter and her newfound partner in crime darting after without much more than a grin his way, hooting and hollering and cuckoos clucking madly as the chase carries on.
Talon sits in stunned silence for a second, watching them go, only to be pulled back to reality by Bess starting off again, nickering low and near like a huff as she moves, impatient, back towards the barn, where a bucket of oats and a good brushing down will be her reward for her morning’s work. She gets both of course; he unhitches and unloads the cart and tends his old mare before sending her out to join her sisters, but by the time he’s leaving the barn again, he can still see Link on the run from his wife, the little sailor lad flying off ahead of him still, although the other boy has stopped, flopped over in the grass with his cuckoos now having chosen to settle atop him contentedly, as though in some manner of victory of their own.
Young’uns, the old farmer finds himself huffing, shaking his balding head with a smile and heading up along to the house.
He’s too old to join in such things, but not so old as to want to avoid them. Maybe he can find a good spot on the porch to watch them for a bit before taking a nap?
Except when he gets there, the porch is covered over. Link’s father sits there on the steps with the one that they all call Four leaned against his side, looking far less grey than he usually does and even just a bit sunburnt as the two watch the goings on in the yard. Tragically, behind them, Talon’s lawn chair is occupied by a snoring...Rulie? He thinks? The boy is out cold, and just a bit greyer than he had been, but he’s more at ease than Talon’s ever seen him; usually the lads got his back up like an old barn cat about something or other, so seeing him so peaceful....
Talon will nap inside today, it’s alright. Rulie can have the chair if he likes it, it’s no great loss for the farmer. Instead, he waves his hand in greeting to those on the porch, and both of the conscious ones wave back at him.
“How was town?” Link’s father asks politely.
“Same old, same old,” he answers back honestly, before sparing another glance behind him to where a squawk of a distinctly not cuckoo variety has sounded from the direction of both of tehir children. “What....”
“T- Link was pranking your daughter,” there’s laughter on the words, on the man’s face, and goodness he looks good for having a son Link’s age! Talon wishes he knew how to look that good while being old enough to be a grandfather! “I think she thought vengeance was in order.”
“Literally pulled her pigtails,” the slightly crispy smallest chuckles, eyes roaming over the yard to keep track of those within, where Malon’s launched her cuckoo towards her husband and the young man has only just avoided it with a maneuver that looks something between a fall and a cartwheel. “I have no clue how we ever thought he was sixty.”
Talon starts at the words, stares for a second. “Sixty?”
“He’s different on the road,” is all he gets from his...in-law? Whose attention is back on the couple, hand trailing thoughtlessly through the hair of the head leant against him. “But I see that, at home, he’s still his same aggravating self.”
He really is, the farmer agrees, glancing back where Malon is now scurrying after her escaped cuckoo, her husband headed in the opposite direction, and the sailor lad splitting off from him just to trip over the fallen Sky in an explosion of feathers and squawking.
“Man down!” Link’s father laughs, hearty, rich, trembling a bit where he’s sprawled over the steps.
Talon finds himself laughing as well, but...not too deeply. He’s a bit tried after his early morning and it’ll be some time before lunch still, what with Malon having some well-earned playtime and that wild boy off riding in the field, so it’s the perfect time to settle down in the cool of the house for a nap.
Except, when he gets there, he’s reminded yet again that his couch currently already has an occupant.
Legend’s laying in the same spot as before, although shifted a bit since then. Feet propped up, head kept steady amidst plentiful pillows and, quite unlike before, eyes fixed firmly on what appears to be...the wall? Talon was meaning to simply round about the couch, but stops when he sees the intense stare settled on the curtains, or the paint- there's certainly no artwork or anything interesting on that wall, just windows, which are currently covered over with Malon’s checked curtains. Despite that though, dark eyes are set and level and staring so intently, that Talon almost wonders if maybe there’s something there that maybe he can’t see.
“What’d the wall do t’ya?” He asks, after a good five minutes with only the occasional blink from the boy, almost perfectly timed to the faint ticking of the mantel clock
Like a rabbit out of the brush, long ears shoot up as the lad’s head whips around to face him, just to stall halfway with a cut off gasp of pain at the sudden motion that has Talon moving closer in worry, just for a hand to raise as though to hold him off, breath easing, form slowly following as pillows are sunk back into once more.
“Lad?” The poor boy had gone quite pale just now, although it seems to be fading as he settles again. There’s a wince on that face, but the stare is gone, eyes fluttering open and rather calm all told as they find him at the foot of the couch for a moment before blinking away once more. Still, Talon can’t get that dark look out of his mind as the answer sounds.
“M’fine."
“What were you up too just now?” Talon asks, stepping back again and glancing back at the wall once more. There’s still nothing there, just drapery pulled shut loosely and blowing ever so faintly from air snuck past the panes. Yet when he looks back to Legend, the boy’s got his chin tucked close and there’s a bright flush over drawn cheeks, eyes avoidant when he tries to catch them and fingers twitching near nervously in his lap as though he’s been caught doing something he oughtn’t.
“Nuthin’.”
“Awful important nothing,” the farmer muses aloud, rounding the couch and moving instead for his armchair he other side of the room, blessedly free and always wonderfully comfortable.
There’s a stirring, bejeweled fingers playing with the ornamentation worn heavy between them, and heavier still over the quilt that seems near ready to fall off the lad’s lap, all bunched up as it is and hanging half off of him. Talon’s nearly got a mind to pull it up over the boy again, except it’s rather warm in the room and he’s not sure if it'd actually be wanted.
“They didn’t bring you along outside?” he asks instead, letting himself sink into plush cushions that puff up beneath and behind him, arms acting as a support for his own limbs as he leans the whole of his (admittedly ample) weight back into the seat,
“I was sleeping,” it’s mumbled, that flush still there even as the boy seems to try and settle himself into some pose more normal- a thing that’s hard to do with limited motion. Also, with the way the boy’s gaze avoids his own, and with the deep flush settled over his face, Talon would almost think the boy was embarressed or something. But why would staring at a wall be embarrassing? It’s a weird thing to spend one’s time doing, certainly, but not something to blush and bumble over, right? Or do kids act different now than when he was raising Malon? Or Link for that matter- Link never fumbled or blushed until he was a teenager and realized that girls were more than just playmates.
“How was the milk run?” Dark eyes flit his way but don’t linger, ticking back towards the wall for a second before darting away once more, still avoidant, but like he’s trying to play it cool or pretend he didn’t do anything?
Talon tries to track the point the boy’d been staring at. Surely, he hasn't missed something that was there all these years, right? Or is it maybe a ghost or something? Some of these boys are magic, aren’t they? Maybe they can see things that aren’t there and he’s been watching something talon simply can’t see? Some creature or imagine? Is Legend young enough that he still believes in picori?
“Mister Lon?”
Oh, right, he’d been asked a question! “It was alright,” now he’s the one flustered a bit, shifting in his seat and trying to distract himself by puling off his boots as he replies, “stopped in at the market for a spell for some things for Mal, sold all the milk, same old, same old.” It takes a moment to get the straps on the old boots to loosen, the old leather rough on itself and catching on dried out edges that have seen more rain and snow and dirt than he thinks they were likely meant for. Once they’re off though, he’s sighing and leaning back again, feet stretched before him in old socks as he turns to look again at the couch and it’s current occupant.
Around the couch’s arm, Legend’s got his head craned ever so carefully his direction, watching, something distant in dark eyes, lips tugged ever so faintly upwards.
“Sweet dreams?” He asks.
The smile fades, a frown steeling over as the lad’s head lulls forwards again, back into the crescent of cushions someone’s made to help him keep steady and not jar his bum shoulder. “I don’t really dream, actually.”
“Everyone dreams.”
“I don’t,” it’s matter of fact, like he’s talking about weather, “I just, you know, conk out cold, and when I wake up, I don’t remember anything. If I dream, it’s nothing that awake me knows about.” the words lilt a bit, nothing drastic, but in a way that makes it sound like maybe this is something the kid explains a lot to people.
That’s fair though, Talon supposes, glancing again to the wall to double check, just in case.
The old couch creaks faintly, as the boy on it shifts, turning again to look at him. “Why do you keep looking over there?”
“Why were you?” He asks, turning again to the boy who is, once more, flushing faintly and avoiding his gaze. “Is there something there I can’t see?”
“No, sir.”
“Then-”
“I was trying something,” it’s abrupt, rushed, gaze set towards the ceiling and fingers fiddling madly, “it was... Yeah, it was just something stupid. There's nothing there.”
The clock on the mantle ticks softly, working it’s way slowly towards noon while the coals of the fire glow ever so faintly, needing to be fed lest they go out, and barely giving any heat to the room, which is a fair bit warm enough without it.
The old farmer settles back into his chair, sinking into the cushions while his young companion squirms a bit on the couch, clearly trying to get comfortable but struggling. Neither says anything for a moment, letting the laughter and shrieks from outside carry in through the panes of the windows. With the curtain’s drawn, he can’t tell if Malon’s caught her husband or if maybe he’s turned the chase around on her after she’d lost her ‘weapon’. They sound like they’re having fun though, and from the porch, two other voices are laughing heartily.
It’s peaceful, nice really, the perfect setting to take a nap really, except.... except there’s a niggling sort of curiosity that’s begging for answers from his odd young houseguest. “What were you trying?”
There’s another start from on the couch, though less violent than before, but not before Talon notices that the lad had been staring again, same set expression and sternness. “Huh?”
“What are you trying to do?” And then, because if he learned anything about these hero type lads with Link, he tacks on “I won’t laugh.”
The ticking clock isn’t so peaceful now as fingers still and ears flicker back for a moment, but after a spell, there’s a huff and the lad’s head falls back again amidst the cushions. “My....I have a f- a person I know, back home,” the foot not wrapped up in bandages it bouncing- almost toe tapping if not for the lack of something to tap against as it rests atop a pile of pillows, “she can make things move with her mind. I was trying to do it myself and open the curtains.”
Open the- “Would you like me to get them?” The boy can’t exactly get up for himself, so it seems the right thing to do and offer, even if Talon really would rather stay in his very comfy armchair.
Legend’s face twitches, one ear flicking much like Bess’s when she’s trying to scare off a fly. “No. I want- I'm going to keep trying, after all, it’s not like there’s a lot else I can do right now.”
“Do you know how she does it?”
“No,” his voice is darker now, chin lowered and brows furrowing faintly as the boy seems to be focusing again on the curtains, which don’t stir even faintly.
“Maybe....” Talon muses, letting his own eyes fall closed as he settles in, snugging down into the chair’s backing. “you can ask her, when you go back.”
No answer follows his words, and when Talon regretfully opens his eyes again, concerned at the lacki of answer, there’s a faint frown on fine features, focus apparently lost as dark eyes turn towards the ceiling again, something pensive in the way long ears flick back.
“Lad?”
“We’re not going back,” it’s quiet, but not timid, like the first time they’d talked. It’s sort of...resigned maybe? The way Link used to talk after he’d grown up most of the way and started pulling away from them, started avoiding the ranch and everyone on it with that pained look in his eyes like he wasn’t the one digging the rift between them. “They were talking about it this morning, and unless something changes, it looks like we’re all just....stuck here.”
Oh.
The image of the boys on the porch with their soft smiles, the ones darting about the yard at play with his daughter, or the two out riding- they don’t seem like young men who’ve been told that there’s no way to go home, but then again, he supposes, glancing again at the couch, they’ve got ways to distract themselves. He doesn’t suppose, alone here in the living room, that Legend can say the same for himself.
“I'm sorry, Legend."
There’s something as close to a shrug as the boy seems able to offer, gaze averted, still skywards as gnarled fingers pick at loose stitching on the old quilt. “Not your fault.”
“Still....”
“It’s fine,” it’s so abrupt. So very Link; he can almost feel the shovel full of dirt hitting his face as the boy starts, tries putting a gap between them. “I’ve been traveling most of my life, I sort of expected I’d still be traveling ten or twenty years from now if I was alive still. It’s not... It’s not the end of the world or anything.”
And Talon would almost believe it, except- “What about your family?” Unless he’s like Link, who lost them early, and even if his son-in-law has his father back now, he’d had to grow up without him mostly.
But there’s no sorrowful look, no avoidant stare, just a faint frown and wince as a hand lifts to wave dismissively. “They’ll get on. They’re used to my being gone.” He doesn’t sound sure of it though.
“I’d miss Malon if I never saw her again,” he murmurs, even as shrieking laughter carries in from outside, his daughter’s voice lifted in protest and delight that means that Link likely has turned the tables on her by now, or even caught up to her to get his revenge for....whatever it is that they’re up to. Honestly, it half draws a smile to his face except- except Legend frowns, head lulling back, a heavy sigh gusting out and sending long hair fluttering up and away from his face. The next words come softer as Talon watches him, adding on, “no parent wants to lose their child forever.”
The hesitation is clear on the boy’s face for a tick or six, before, at long last, he answers. “My parents were taken from us when I was two.”
Oh dear, that- pities sakes, Talon! What a way to make the lad feel worse. “How did they die?” He ventures to ask, careful, worried, but... it’s the right thing to ask, right? It’s the thing most folks usually do, and it’s been at least a decade since so-
“They're not dead,” is declared firmly, much to his surprise, only to be followed up with a rather less certain, “at least, we don’t know for certain that they are- or if they are.”
“But you said-”
“They’re cursed,” dark eyes find him again, catching a second, dropping down, but not flitting away as before. Legend’s face creases over for a second, like he’s thinking, considering, before finally explaining, as though aware that he’ll be asked. “My father’s best friend dabbled in magic, and when he started getting too deep, Father tried to stop him, and so he and my mother were cursed into an alternate...reality, or world, by my father’s old friend.” There’s a wince and a wiggle as though the lad’s trying to keep looking at him, but the strain it’s got to take on his neck to crane around and do so prompts Talon to move, a bit reluctantly, from his seat. There's enough room, he thinks, at the foot of the couch- goodness knows the boy isn’t nearly as long as the old thing, and there’s no objection when he settles between the arm and the pile of cushions propping up bandaged feet. Legend even seems to relax a bit into his pillows when he has settled in, although not without a bit more squirming to situate himself before he continues.
“I got cursed too, when I was little. Ended up there too, and the other folks there told me that my folks were still alive, but I never got a chance to look for them because my father’s friend- Aganim was his name- he kidnapped princess Zelda and someone had to stop him.”
“Her highness is queen now,” Talon reminds the lad, gently. She’s been queen for at least ten years now, and he’s rather sure everyone in Hyrule would know if she’d been kidnapped.
“My princess,” Legend corrects him, ears twitching again, “I come from a different world, one different than yours. My princess is- well, I guess she’ll be queen soon.” And there’s the melancholy that ought to have been there on the tale of lost parents, although in hindsight, perhaps two is too young to remember them at all.
Talon considers his words a moment before tentatively asking, “who raised you then? If your parents were gone?”
“My uncle.”
“What about him? Won’t he miss you?”
A wince. “Uncle moved away a few years back. He writes sometimes, but we haven’t been close in years.”
“Do you have siblings?”
A second, a pause, a faint frown before a heavy sigh sounds, one of the feet now by his hip starts stirring again, tapping on air in an agitated fashion. “I have a sister, but we aren’t close.” Violet eyes find brown before he can so much as think about asking, and the answer begins without prompt. “My mother’s parents were....very religious, almost-” he hesitates, chews over the words before, with a scoff, sounding out “I think they were part of a cult or something. Anyways, they’re all superstitious and when my mother had me, she knew they’d think it was a bad omen or something- don't ask me why, I’m not in their cult. She wanted to keep me safe though, so she gave me to my uncle, and they told everyone I was a waif he found in his travels. Technically- legally, I’m adopted. They’re my family, but we’re the only ones who know that, and her parents have no idea.”
Talon, for lack of anything better to do, nods.
Legend’s attention moves, again, to the ceiling, brows furrowed and hands moving faintly as he goes on, chattering away with a fair bit more energy than he’d had last time they’d talked, although Talon doesn’t really mind at all. “When my parents were taken from us, my mother’s father decided to raise my sister, so we grew up apart, and not even from the same social class because she was brought up to be noble and my uncle and his parents are farmers. We try, but....” there’s another sigh, hands falling still and eyes slipping shut, “even as twins, it’s hard to act like siblings when you never got to be such.”
There’s a sharp ache in his chest now, and Talon has to fight off a sniffle at those words.
“She would miss me though,” the boy tacks on thoughtfully, “but like a said, I’m always gone, so it wouldn’t be new for her. Honestly,” it’s laughed, though he has no clue how the lad manages that, or the fond little smile on his face, pained though his eyes appear, “she’d probably be glad to know I was stuck here. She’s always on me to retire and start living my life already, so even if we are apart, I think she’d be pleased with this.”
“But are you?” He can’t avoid the sniffle, though he tries to pass it off as a runny nose, wiping at his mustache as he does.
Legend’s eyes linger for a moment on him, searching, staring, before dropping the moment his own catch them. The lad’s fingers pick at the blanket, plucking away at frayed stitches, gaze turned again towards still closed curtains. “I like exploring new places,” is said after a while, slow, thoughtful, huffed out at the end with the faintest of smiles. “New worlds are no exception. I-I'll miss everyone back home, but really,” there’s a faint twinkle in that gaze as it finds his again, something almost like a star against dark skies. “it’s just a puzzle that has to be solved, y’know? Nothing’s truly set in stone, and if there’s no monsters needin’ me to fight ‘em, who knows what kind of magic I can figure out once I’m back on my feet again. Maybe I can find a way back for myself.”