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“Legend,” Warriors said softly, holding out breakfast - oatmeal - for the younger hero, “You need to eat.”
Legend tore his eyes from Hyrule’s corpse and glared at the captain. With a yell of rage, the grumpy teen flipped the food right into Warriors’ face. Hot oats dripped down the man’s face, and Time stood. Their leader equipped what Wind called his ‘Disappointed Face’, and moved in front of Legend.
“Such behavior is unacceptable,” the man scolded, “We are all grieving, Legend. Apologize and help Warriors clean up.”
“He’s my successor!” Legend hissed, “How would you feel Twilight got kidnapped and then died under your arms?”
Tears welled in Time’s eyes. The loss of the ranch hand had nearly been reality and Hyrule was the only reason it wasn’t. Time had never been quite close with the boy and had only shared his thanks once. Now he lay lifeless in the outskirts of camp. “I would be sad, yes, but I would not throw food in my teammate’s face.”
“How do you know you wouldn’t?” Legend scoffed.
Warriors slapped Legend across the face, only to receive his own glare from Time. The captain added, “Because he didn’t when he thought Twilight was going die.”
“You’re lucky I made extra out of habit,” Wild grumbled, pushing another bowl into Legend’s hands. Heat emanated from the wooden bowl. Legend could feel all eyes on him, watching, waiting for him to misbehave, he was sure of it.
Legend pushed the bowl back into Wild’s hands and growled, “Let me grieve in peace.”
The teen stormed off to the edge of camp, away from the fire, away from the camaraderie. Wild looked over wistfully, a desire to help written clearly on his face. “No, Wild, just give him space,” Time ordered in a soft tone, “From what I understand, he’s never had a chance to grieve or even had a body to bury. I hear his uncle died in the sewer the night his quest started, and when he returned to collect the body, it was no more than decomposing bones. Apparently he was thrust on three quests immediately after his first.”
Legend was bent over something he’d found in Hyrule’s pack, possibly a memento to remember his deceased successor by. His sobs echoed through the clearing, and the others returned to their food, hoping Legend would get it out of his system.
The only noise during breakfast was Legend sobbing his heart out, wailing, a terrible, high-pitched thing that kept going, and there was nothing they could do to console him, for Time had declared he needed space. Wind and Four set their now-empty bowls aside and began to dig in their packs.
Wind pulled out a shovel, and Four pulled one out a few minutes later. Legend looked over at the shovels. “Are we really going to bury him in Wild’s era?” he asked, making a pathetic attempt to wipe the tears away. He set down some plush doll that looked a bit like Hyrule, leaving it near the pack he’d pulled it from.
“Unless Hylia makes a portal to his own, yes,” Time said, his tone sad, his gaze crestfallen.
“Think of it this way,” Wild added, “My world is massive. If his spirit retains some form of consciousness, there is no shortage of places to explore. I haven’t even explored everywhere.”
“He’ll enjoy that,” Legend said, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and turning to fish in his own pack. A shovel was tossed to Twilight, then a second to Warriors, a third to Time and yet another for himself.
“How many shovels do you have?” Sky asked incredulously.
“Only four,” Legend replied as though carrying four shovels on his person was even remotely normal.
“Hoarder,” Warriors teased.
“Collector,” Legend corrected with a growl, “And in my darkest hour? That’s behavior I’d expect from Ganon.”
“Sorry,” Warriors apologized. With six shovels, digging the hole was not as challenging as it would have been alone. Twilight set his borrowed shovel down and lifted Hyrule’s body from the bedroll. The lifeless teen was laid in the ground, and his hands were lovingly draped over his heart. The ruby-inlaid sword was forced into the dirt and grass behind Hyrule’s head, signifying where he lay if Wild chose to visit and pay respects once this quest was over.
Legend stepped up to say his parting words when a miracle happened. That strange, creepy Hyrule-like doll he’d found began floating in the air with a golden, divine glow enveloping its tiny fabric body, head and legs hanging limp as though some invisible hand had it by the waist. Hyrule, too, began to float in the air, identical to the doll except larger and without a hat. The amount of magic in the air was overwhelming and sickening; the flash of light utterly blinding.
When Legend could see again, Hyrule was resting in Warriors’ bedroll. Breathing in Warriors’ bedroll. Visibly alive and struggling to sit up right. The creepy doll fell to the ground unnoticed with a thump, its stuffing oozing out of a hole in its side.
“Rulie!” Legend cried joyously, kneeling by his successor and pulling him the rest of the way up. Hyrule shivered on Legend’s shoulder. “How are you-?”
Hyrule let out a weak cough. “A doll. Looks like me.”
“This?” Warriors said, lifting the damaged doll and holding it out to Hyrule, who grabbed it, only for it to slip through his hands and onto the blanket that Legend had placed over his legs.
Hyrule fidgeted with the smaller, hand-sewn version of him as he spoke, voice raspy and stuttering, something they had discovered he did when he was nervous. “I f-f-found six of these d-d-during my second adventure. They work l-l-like a fairy. If I d-d-die, they heal me.”
“That seems pretty nifty,” Legend cooed to the teen, hoping his voice could ease the teen’s nerves.
“This was the s-s-same d-d-dark magic that almost k-k-killed T-t-twi. A f-f-fairy didn’t work then,” Time blanched at the reminder, “And Life b-b-barely worked. L-l-left me t-t-tired for d-d-days.”
“Why didn’t you say you were tired?” Warriors asked, and Legend could feel Hyrule trying to hide from his scrutinizing gaze in his arms.
“H-h-had to be the h-h-hero then,” Hyrule mumbled, “I w-w-wasn’t sure the d-d-doll would w-w-work, since a f-f-fairy didn’t. I wanted to say g-g-goodbye.”
“We’re really glad the doll worked,” Legend told him, beginning to stroke the soft, fluffy, caramel-colored locks of hair.
“You scared us, ‘Rule,” Warriors whispered gently, “You were kidnapped, injured, and we thought you were gone for good just now.”
“D-d-didn’t mean t-t-to,” Hyrule answered, and Legend felt something wet on his tunic, right where Hyrule’s face was pressed against his chest.
“Hey, let’s continue the conversation later,” Legend suggested, “He just came back, let’s not overwhelm him.”
The rest of the heroes moved back to other areas of camp, sending concerned glances as they passed. “It’s okay, we’ve got you.” Legend whispered when Hyrule trembled in his arms.
“I think he w-w-wanted me dead b-b-because I can heal. It’s like having e-e-extra fairies, and he d-d-didn’t like that. And if I p-p-pulled the knife out, G-g-ganon would have r-resurrected. If I died by l-l-leaving the knife in, he w-w-won. If I p-p-pulled it out, he w-w-won. It was s-s-scary.”
“We’re going to do everything we can to protect you, Rulie. He won’t hurt you, ever, if we can help it,” Legend told him, holding him tighter against his chest. His tunic was completely drenched with tears, yet Hyrule’s tears flowed silently, unlike his own from mere minutes before.
“Thank you,” Hyrule’s timid, soft voice barely reached his ears.
A memory of Uncle Alfonse singing some ancient lullaby in the dim house popped into Legend’s head, and in the memory, the dark seemed less scary to his younger self, and he slipped into a deep sleep, convinced of his safety. Legend couldn’t remember the words to it now, but it hardly mattered. He knew Ballad of the Wind Fish by heart, and Hyrule was out cold and slumped in his arms before he finished.
Warriors tiptoed over. “Your voice is pretty,” he started, “Is he asleep?”
“He is,” Legend answered, “And you will pay if you wake him.”
Warriors pulled his scarf off of his neck, and draped it over Hyrule. “I’ll leave you to the snuggles, Vet,” the captain walked off softly, and Legend relished the soft, even breathing his sleeping successor produced.