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Link was always an active person, spending his days and nights out in the woods, climbing the tallest rock, and witnessing the most wonderful sunsets. Whenever a blood moon dared to pass, bringing the talus in the field back to life, Link would spend the day hunting down arrows to loose from his bow to take it down, clambering bravely onto its back with only his grit, and a heavy hammer to slay the beast of stone.
It was quite unusual to see him in town for longer than a few hours. Even since he was small, he was a wanderer. An explorer. A great warrior. Why, some of the fondly exasperated elders had even heard him from the very top of Walnot Mountain, screaming in excitement and victory.
Most of Hateno's residents hoped with all their heart that he would never change.
In all aspects, he was wild. Hair untamed and flying free most days, and his tenacious personality spurred a warmth in him, a fire that couldn't be quelled by another. He was a free spirit talking to the birds, and the mice. He played games with the forest spirits, and they seemed fond of hide and go seek. It was amusing to see the little warrior wander the fields, checking behind everything for something no one else could see.
He was an active dreamer, having big plans for his future, but was under no pressure to work for it. He has time, he always said. His imagination was limitless, and villagers of all ages could catch him tinkering with twine and twigs to create something new. His inventive spirit was untouched by stigma.
One day, one of many just like it, Link was building something completely new. He took thick branches, and tried them together with his strongest rope, stretching a pale canvas over the top to create a large kite. He'd had an obsession with the toys since he was small, seeing them flying above the village like birds.
It was easily collapsible, ready to pull apart at a moment's notice to catch him. He told them that it was a glider. Or at least, it should be, if it worked. He stood on a hill with a sharp drop, not too tall, and the villagers watched him jump from the height, and sail beyond what anyone expected. He never ventured anywhere without his paraglider anymore.
The villagers could still hear his laughing and shouting from miles away, atop Ebon Mountain, and beyond.
Every so often, some close-minded traveler would catch a glimpse of Hateno's Gold, and scoff with indignation. A young boy such as Link shouldn't be so wild, they said. No one ever paid them any mind, let alone their spirit.
Link simply didn't care. He grew up, and hunted, and wandered, and explored, and fought. And not one second of his life did he let anyone change who he was.
The villagers took it upon themselves to raise him. When Link found out about his parent's passing, the only thing he did was spend more and more time in the forests. They're sure he cried, once or twice. But he never let them see.
They tried to raise him to be kind, always. Above everything, be Kind. But they didn't need to, as Link had the natural instinct for goodness that was yet again unparalleled.
Anything they should have taught him, he learned out there in the world. He learned wisdom from the spirits, and power from the monsters, and courage from the land. He learned kindness from the animals, seeing them thrive untouched. He learned it from himself, who obeyed the wilderness and slayed the camps, and lived free from burden.
One day, something changed. Something that no one could have predicted. A sudden twist that had the elders grabbing for stability as their world was turned upside down. If asked, no one could say what exactly it was, but Link was different. He played less in the trees, spoke less to the animals, and less to himself.
He gripped a pristine sword in his hands, holding it tight and practicing drills until his mind was hazy, and blood dripped from his adrenaline-fueled hands. His crystal blue eyes were cloudy most days, and the change was so terrible, so interesting, that the whole world shook with the intensity.
Somewhere along the way, he stopped speaking. Gone were the happy chirps, and light laughing when something particularly amusing happened across his path. No more words softly spoken to the children in encouragement and joy. Only huffs of frustration, exhalation tickling the edges of his self cut bangs. He grunted when he swung his sword, but outside of that, he was completely silent.
When his hands healed from gripping the sword so tightly, he asked the tutors listed on the notice board to teach him to communicate with his hands.
Then he was gone. The village mourned the loss of shouts from the trees, the short blond boy bouncing, running amok in the fields. Hateno was not the same without him.
The lack of that light affected nearly everyone. The children lost a playmate, and the grown villagers lost a friend. The forest spirits refused to play. The villagers left offerings in the shrines, but not one of them felt the presence of a dancing little korok since Link's departure.
The village was cold without him, but slowly, they learned to manage. Some of the kids grew up idolizing Link, the spirit of lightness and laughter and freedom. They, too, went to play in the fields instead of ducking under the feet of the grown ups. They grew up having scraped knees, calloused hands, and determination sparkling on their faces and in their eyes.
The forest was never silent, and some days, the villagers could pretend he was still skylarking in the branches, listening to the songs of the crickets. They would miss the little warrior, as big as he was now.
They soon learned that he went to be the faithful guard to Hyrule's own Princess Zelda. An honor indeed. The Princess often traveled the country, looking for a piece of herself that had only been seen and touched by Hylia herself. That was all they knew. That was all anyone would know for several years.
They never made their way to Hateno. The closest they ever got was the top of Mount Lanayru, to visit the Goddess Nayru at her spring of wisdom.
They still smiled up at the mountains, to Naydra, when they missed their gold.
When tragedy struck, the village of Hateno was safe. As safe a place as the Goddesses could allow, and people flocked to the borders to escape the Calamity.
The royal family, King Rhoam and his daughter were gone. Many speculated that the silent Princess went back to the castle to subdue the Calamity on her own, when Hyrule's champions fell in battle.
They heard nothing of Link, their spirit. No word for many days. Many years .
Slowly they realized. Slowly, the horror would dawn on their faces. Traveling outside of the village, while not impossible, was dangerous. A cluster of spider-like machines grouped, dead, around a mark in the ground made only by tragedy. So near to them, their spirit fell. So near, they hadn't realized.
The village was informed. The children were left to think he was still out there, being Hyrule's greatest warrior. The elders, and parents were told of the battle that went on in the field near the village.
The forest and stone monuments where Link ran with the koroks was officially named Spirit Ruins, to honor the memory of a little golden light that graced Hateno. Link's forest was visited by many, and nearly everyone was put up to believing that his memory danced on the crumbling stone and sprouting trees.
And if he wasn't in Hyrule anymore, if his spirit found its way to the Goddesses, they hoped he would be happy there.
They could only hope he went to play in the forests of Hylia, one with all that is there to think and breathe. They hoped he was made a dragon, to dance in the sky of the afterlife. They hoped he met with the koroks for a lovely game of tag. They hoped he jumped and laughed and played, even now.
They hoped he was alive. Even in death.