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It’s the song that draws her out.
If Malon’s learned anything from the ranch, it’s to listen. Especially now with Ingo, barking orders at her without an ounce of sympathy. Clean this. Tend to the horses. Hurry up. Silly girl. Honestly, why he doesn’t hire (more like enslave, she notes) more people is beyond her. She’s one person, for Hylia’s sake, but she’ll never give up and let him run the ranch into ruin. It might be the reason why he commands them like this, empty threats and cold words.
(“Better hurry, you wouldn’t want anything bad happening to your father, would you?”)
She grips the handle of the bucket until her knuckles turn white. Her feet pad across the dirt and hay silently, and Malon breathes in.
Relax.
Think better thoughts.
If she closes her eyes and filters out the dust and musty stench she can almost imagine herself in the grand halls of a castle, walking along the velvet carpet. Sunlight filters in through the windows, the chatter of the people and birds around her. The dress she has on is short and simple to not hinder her work but the one in her dreams is long and elegant, trailing behind her as she walks. Her father would be there to greet her good morning, maybe even her prince, a knight in shining armor there to tell stories of their adventures before starting the day, and she’s so caught up in her daydream she doesn’t realize where she’s headed until she walks straight into the barn door.
Just her luck. Malon rubs her forehead, smoothing out the front of her dress. It’s what she deserves, she supposes, for dreaming up fantasies when really, she should be working hard to get this back from Ingo. She’s already behind schedule thanks to the traveler. Bursting into the stables without warning?! Now they’re lucky she hadn’t anything on hand otherwise they’d be the ones really dreaming. Knight or not, she can hold herself fine.
Humming, she slides the doors closed behind her. The afternoon sun beats down on her back as she continues dragging the buckets back. Low calls of the cows echo throughout the ranch. There are the neighs of the horses in the distance. The soft crunch of the dirt path below her feet. Malon breathes, taking in the sweet summer air.
One day, it’ll be better.
One day, it will.
She repeats it like a mantra in her head, like words to a melody, sharp and lovelier than the wind scattering leaves by her feet. Malon steps on each one with a satisfying crunch. The mantra stops but the melody goes on, and she frowns before dropping both buckets.
Epona’s song—
Her mother—
Ingo will give her an earful for this later, she knows, but Malon leaves the mess and runs, hair whipping through the wind. Besides the obvious music, there’s something, something calling her, tugging at her heartstrings like another instrument, the music growing louder and louder.
Where—
She skids to a halt just under the shade of a tree, one that she remembers quite vividly climbing somewhere in her childhood. She’s far too old now, and the branches would most certainly break if she were to climb. While she’s grown older and stronger, the tree seems exhausted, branches and leaves drooping. They hide her almost perfectly though, and Malon sneaks a glance past it.
The ranch. Horses graze as usual and Malon’s eyes drift to Ingo, standing in front of the gate. Her shoulders tense almost immediately — although he has yet to lay a hand on one of them this week, there’s no telling when. She continues staring and stops at the stranger in front of him, a speck of bright green among the dying grass.
Huh.
It’s the traveler from earlier, she notes, biting the inside of her cheek. Of course it is. The only question is what they’re still doing here. There’s a shield strapped onto their back, and Malon is now acutely aware of the sword sheathed by their side.
The goddesses have listened to her prayers, she muses. Excitement bubbles in her chest and she can already imagine it — the mysterious traveler defeating Ingo in one swing, riding off on one of the horses with Malon at their back.
The traveler does none of the sort. They slip something small and sparkling blue into their satchel, bringing two fingers to their mouth and whistling the same tune moments prior. Before Malon can ponder why, Epona gallops toward them and the traveler —the traveler— lays a hand on her back and laughs.
Epona leans right into the touch.
Malon remembers to close her mouth, lest there be flies. Questions of how, what, where swim through her mind and if it weren’t for Ingo’s unwanted presence, she would’ve marched right over to where they were and ask them everything because no one’s supposed to know her mother’s song, no one other than her and her father and —
Memories of a boy flood her vision. Green hat and tunic. Blonde hair sparkling like the sun. Curious eyes and a ball of light fluttering through the air.
Fairy boy.
Malon doesn’t even try to stop the smile forming on her face, her shoulders easing. She peeks from behind the tree and laughs softly to herself.
He’s grown.
“You know, I thought you were a knight at first,” Malon admits weeks later, when it’s just the two of them. They’re in the cucco coop, the cuccos shrieking as they flap their wings and scatter feathers and seeds all over the room. She steps out of the way of an incoming cucco. “But no, it was you.”
Link stares down at her, expression unreadable. Unlike her, deftly dodging the animals, he’s done nothing, stray feathers and hay on his clothes. Malon has to bite down her tongue to keep from laughing. Even though it’s been years, baby fat clings to his cheeks and his eyes are as curious as ever (although she’s noted they look sadder, more serious), his clothes a bit longer to fit his figure. The sword and shield are always on him and if she squints just right, she can see him in the shining armor and horse.
“So,” she says, leaning back and forth. “Are you secretly a knight in training or something? That why you and Epona are so good? You still owe me a rematch, by the way.”
Link hesitates before shaking his head. Malon pouts. “Awwwww, you had me convinced.”
A shrug. Malon shuts her mouth and hums, shooing the rest of the cuccos away. With Ingo back to normal, the rest of the ranch followed suit. In a way, it’s almost a relief to be calming them down. The days of coaxing the animals to eat and move feel like a lifetime ago.
“Hey.” She motions for Link to come forward. “What do you say we play a game?”
Link perks up, by her side in an instant and awaiting further instruction. Malon smiles and nearly pats his head like she normally does with the horses but manages to pull her hand back just in time to play it off as a gesture. “You remember the Super Cuccos? Pretty sure my dad’s already done this, but same rules, fairy boy! Go get them!”
She claps, and Link sets off while the cuccos shriek all at once, darting off in different directions in a flurry of hay and feathers. Undeterred, Link grabs two by the end of their tail feathers and chucks them over the hay bales before repeating the process with more of the cuccos. He leaves three alone — the super ones, she notes with pride — and carries two under his arms with the final one perched atop his head. Time hasn’t run out yet but Malon grins and clasps her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Link makes his way toward her. Like in the fairy tales, she waits for her knight to arrive home —
“Hng!”
— only this isn’t some cozy cottage in the middle of town square but a small coop, too small in fact, for two grown adults, much less one carrying three cuccos. Link falls on his back as the cuccos screech and scatter away.
“Oh!” Malon has the decency to not burst into laughter right away, saving the memory aside for later. Daydream ruined. Although, not in a bad way. “You okay?” she asks.
Link nods. There are a few scratches and feather fluff on the ends of his tunic from the cuccos but otherwise he’s fine. It’s strange how much space he takes up inside the room that used to seem so big to the both of them. Malon watches as his eyes dart around, finally landing on the cuccos he dropped.
“Sorry, fairy boy,” she tuts, sweeping them out of the way. “You lost, so no prize for you.”
Maybe it’s her imagination, but Link seems to sink into the floorboards, face visibly drooping. Malon has to laugh at that. “I’m kidding! I owe ya one or two for helping us out and Lon Lon Ranch Milk is the best there is! Though, you did lose.”
Link whines, making a sound like a wounded animal. If Malon didn’t know any better, she’d say he’s upset but the glimmer in his eyes says otherwise. A pang of guilt sounds in her heart. How long has it been since he’s relaxed, had fun — maybe he really was a knight in training, everything adds up--done normal things throughout the years?
Too long.
Malon wipes her palms on her skirt. “C’mon, fairy boy, let’s get you something to drink!” Now she’s beginning to sound like her father. Extending a hand, she helps him off the ground. He’s much lighter than he looks and suddenly they’re both kids again, helping each other up in town square. The same curious gaze locks onto hers and she beams. “A growing boy like you definitely needs it!”