Part 8
The Royal dispatch felt heavier than any stone, its folded parchment containing the weight of a kingdom. Link held it in his hand, the King's wax seal a single, crimson eye staring back at him. Before him, propped against the cave wall, was the mission's first casualty: his friend, Elwin, a good man broken by the very darkness the letter warned of. The path had forked. One trail led east, to a hidden princess and a destiny he was only beginning to comprehend. The other led west, to a warm bed, his mother's cooking, and the familiar, comforting rhythm of home.
Elwin, reading the silent conflict in the boy's posture, pushed himself up with a grimace. "Go, Link," he urged, his voice a low, insistent rasp. "Don't you worry about me. I'm a tough old bird. I can forage... find my way back. The message… the Princess… that's what matters now. You must go."
It was a brave lie, and they both knew it. Elwin was weak, his leg was shattered, and the wilderness would swallow him whole before the next sunset. He was trying to unburden the boy, to make the choice of a hero an easy one.
Link looked at Elwin's pale, sweat-slicked face. He looked at the crudely splinted leg, the pain the man was trying so desperately to hide. Then, he looked at the cave entrance, his gaze turning west, towards the distant, unseen hills of Ordon. He held that gaze for a long, quiet moment.
His decision was made not with a word or a nod, but with a simple, deliberate action. He carefully, almost reverently, placed the Royal dispatch and the Sheikah token back into his leather satchel, securing the buckle tightly. He then turned his back on the mission. He went to the small fire and methodically doused the flames, scattering the cooled ashes. He checked the knots on the splint he had made for Elwin's leg. He offered the postman a drink from his waterskin and the last, precious piece of his mother's journey bread.
His actions were his answer, a language more absolute than any spoken word. He was not leaving.
"No," Elwin protested, his voice cracking with a mixture of awe and frustration. "No, boy, you can't! I'll slow you down to a crawl! It will take us a week to get back! The Princess—"
Link simply turned, his twilight-blue eyes meeting Elwin's. He gave a single, slow shake of his head. His expression was not one of defiance, but of immutable, unquestionable loyalty. He then walked to the mouth of the cave, found a sturdy, straight branch from a fallen tree, and began to carve a notch into one end with his knife. He was fashioning a crutch. The debate was over. A shepherd does not leave a wounded sheep for the wolves, no matter how important the destination. The mission to Zelda would have to wait. His friend came first.
The journey home was an arduous, painstaking crawl. The desperate, adrenaline-fueled flight from the monster camp was replaced by a slow, grueling test of endurance. Link was no longer just a tracker. He was a protector, a guide, a nursemaid, and a pack mule. He fashioned a harness from vines to carry both their satchels, and he spent the days half-supporting, half-carrying the much larger man, his own small frame straining under the weight.
Elwin, humbled and stripped of his usual boisterous self-sufficiency, helped in the only ways he could. At night, as Link stood watch, Elwin would teach him the constellations, the silent, reliable maps of the sky. "See there, boy? That's the Horseman. You follow his spear south, and you'll never be lost." He knew the general geography of the land, warning Link of impassable ridges or swampy lowlands to avoid.
Their communication evolved. Elwin learned to read the subtle shifts in Link's posture, the flick of his eyes, the slight gestures of his hands. Link, in turn, absorbed Elwin's knowledge, his stories of Castle Town, of the Zora's domain, of the proud Gorons of Death Mountain. In the crucible of their shared hardship, a bond was forged, a deep and abiding friendship built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect.
The danger, however, was never far. They were still fugitives in a hostile land. On their third day of travel, as they rested in a thicket of dense, thorny bushes, the Sheikah token in Link's satchel began to hum with a familiar, intense vibration. Link instantly put a hand on Elwin's arm, his eyes wide with warning. Elwin fell silent, his breathing becoming shallow.
Link peered through a gap in the thorns. A Bokoblin patrol, four of the corrupted, red-eyed creatures, was shuffling through the clearing just feet from their hiding place. They were sniffing the air, their ugly heads turning from side to side. They were hunting. Their dead, malevolent eyes seemed to sweep right over the bush where the two were hidden. Link's heart hammered against his ribs. He held his breath, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to sell his life dearly to protect his friend. After a long, agonizing moment, the patrol moved on, their guttural grunts fading into the distance. The hum of the token subsided. They had not been seen.
As they drew closer to the familiar borders of the Ordona Province, the land began to soften. The harsh, rocky hills gave way to gentle, rolling pastures. The air began to smell of home. They made their final camp on a ridge that overlooked the valley, a journey of two days for a healthy man having taken them nearly six.
Elwin leaned against a tree, looking down at the distant, twinkling lights of Ordon Village, a sight he thought he would never see again. He was overcome with an emotion so powerful it left him speechless for a long moment. He looked at the small, eleven-year-old boy who sat across from him, cleaning his enchanted shield with a quiet, focused determination. The boy who had faced down monsters, tended his wounds, and carried him halfway across the province.
"Link," Elwin said, his voice thick. "When we get back, the villagers will send for the knights. I will rest and let my leg heal. But I want you to have my word." He met the boy's gaze, his own eyes shining with unshed tears of gratitude. "When you decide it is time… when you are ready to take that letter to the Princess… you will not go alone. I owe you a debt I can never truly repay. But I will see you safely to Lanayru. I will be your shield, as you have been mine. I swear it."
Link looked up from his work. He listened to the man's solemn vow, this promise of future companionship, of a shared destiny. He did not smile, but a warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the last of the wilderness's chill. He gave a single, accepting nod.
He had left home alone, a boy on a desperate search. He would return with a friend, a promise, and a mission that would change his life forever. He looked down at the warm, welcoming lights of his village, a beacon of safety in the vast, dark world. He had completed his first quest. He had brought his friend home. For now, that was enough.