#loftwingletters25

“I’m really not much of a dancer,” she had said, multiple times, but they wouldn’t have it. He pictures her in there now, golden hair tied into a plait, cheeks flushed, spinning and smiling. 

Link frowns. The moon above is harsh, exacting: why not just tell her? He’s been wondering that for a year, since she returned into his life, into all their lives, and set about filling the land with her radiance. 

Practice is over. The women stream out of the building towards their homes, Zelda among them. She is flanked by two others, chatting amicably as they approach. 

He could do it now. He could descend the ladder and tell her plain and clear. Did you know that you are perfect? That I love every single thing about you?

Zelda passes by the ladder and waves up at him. Link... waves back. And sighs. To the north, where the horizon meets sea, the dragon Naydra floats through the sky. 

---

“Finally autumn, after such a long summer!” Zelda says, looking up at the full moon.

“Indeed, and a dry winter to follow, from our observations,” says Symin beside her. 

“Oh. Hopefully we get some rain.” 

They stand together under the shade of an old tree, watching the townsfolk collect long timber beams from the construction site of the planned Hateno School, which is as yet unfinished. “These beams will be returned tomorrow, right?” Symin asks. 

“Of course. They just need them for the festival tent.”

“I hope so. I won’t teach from a tent.” 

Zelda smiles to herself. The only person in Hyrule more passionate about building the school than her is Symin. Well, except maybe–

“Master Link!” Symin calls out, rushing forward. He greets Link, who has slugged an entire beam over his shoulder with ease. “Please remind the others to be careful. This timber is pine, from Tabantha.”

“Sure,” Link answers, but still Symin cranes his neck towards the centre of town, sighing and fussing as he watches his priceless timber being carted away.

“Why don’t you remind them yourself?” Zelda offers. 

“Indeed! I'd better!” Symin says, and kicking up a little dust he marches into town, leaving Link and Zelda to speak alone. 

Only, Zelda never knows what to say to Link. What can she say, to the one who saved her life, saved all their lives? Her gratitude always feels cloying and sticky in her mouth.

“It’s going well?” she asks.  

“Yes.” He lowers the beam to the ground. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I – are you looking forward to tonight?”

He pauses, seeming unsure. Maybe he dreads it as much as she does. “I am.”

“I’ll be dancing, you know."

“I know.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

Link smiles, a look that makes her want to melt. “I don’t think so.” 

For a moment they stare at one another, and everything Zelda has wanted to say nearly rushes out. That he should have his own life, that he doesn’t have to live where she lives. That he can have his house back and that it’s okay if he doesn’t feel anything for her, really. She is grateful just to be able to love him, because it means she is alive, and being alive was once a distant and fading dream– 

“I better go.” Link says. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes.” 

No other words come. After he is gone, she spots the goddess Naydra rounding the mountains to the north. Lady of wisdom, lady of love, she prays. Oh, save me from myself!

---

A harsh wind descends upon the town as the festival starts, rattling the lantern lights. Link helps hang the last of them between the dye shop and a water tower further up the hill. When he’s done, he heads to the festival tent. It shudders under every gust, but the townsfolk are determined. Their ragtag band of drummers and pipers are loud enough to drown out the wind.  

He keeps a low profile, sampling the food stalls one by one. It’s oppressively hot in the tent, the whole town crammed inside, but Zelda is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it’s for the better. Maybe the time to tell her what he feels has passed.  

Then there are three sharp beats of a drum, and the festival goers turn their attention to the centre of the tent. The women of the town gather, with Zelda at the front in a red dress and black leggings. They join hands, forming two long lines, and to the beat of the drum they dance, spinning and clapping. Link blushes as he watches, realising in his gloom he had forgotten the reason he came to the festival at all. When they are done, the women bow to whoops and cheers from the crowd, and in the chaos that follows as they disperse, Zelda appears in front of him with a hand outstretched. 

“There’s another dance. Join me?” she says. There’s a sort of giddiness to her, almost drunken. Is that what dancing feels like? He takes her hand, and wordlessly they step into the dancer’s circle. Maybe this is how he tells her. Maybe he simply sweeps her off her feet. 

Just as the world around them begins to fall away, a terrible crack rips through the air. It’s deafening. The ground shakes. Then another; thunder, beastlike and hungry, accompanied by flashes of lightning. Never letting go of his hand, Zelda hurries them outside, and they see the sky has darkened, clouds churning like the sea. There is shouting all around – everyone inside, quickly! It’s a storm! 

Another flash, as an arc of lightning strikes the general store. Then another hits the grass in front of them, the light blinding. Crack! When Link opens his eyes he is met with a wall of fire. The lightning has set the grass of the main thoroughfare alight, and the wind is blowing the flames towards the festival tent. 

“There's no rain,” Link says, drawing back. 

“A dry winter…” Zelda murmurs. “We have to do something!”

In the sky, just below the clouds, Link spots the dragon Naydra, seemingly undisturbed by the weather. “Can she help? Can you, I don’t know, call her–?” 

“No. How would I even– I mean I could try but –”

He takes her other hand, holding both between his. “Okay, it’s okay,” he says, waiting for her to calm. “We save ourselves.” 

Zelda nods, and they turn their attention back to the fire. Across the thoroughfare, Zelda seems to spot something. He follows her gaze, eyes drawn to the lantern lights, which are now mostly gone out. “The water tower?” he asks. Zelda answers by taking his hand and leading him away from the tent. 

They rush to a nearby stable shed, where Zelda finds two axes, placing one in Link's hands. Then she points to the water tower. It sits on three poorly made struts and is already shaking in the wind, water spilling over the edge of its wide metal tank. Link understands immediately, and can't help but laugh. Alright, Princess, let’s go destroy some public property. 

They run to the tower and begin chopping - one strut each. “We need them to come down at the same time!” Link says. 

“Then follow my lead!” 

She chants as they chop. And swing. And swing. One, two! Lightning flashes around them, and the fire rages towards the festival tent. One, two! One, two! Then there is a creak and a groan - the sound of snapping wood. Link drops his axe and dives toward Zelda as the whole structure collapses, unleashing a flood of water down the hill. 

They roll and tumble, caught in the wave, and come to a rest beside the festival tent, arms around each other on the muddy grass. Bewildered, the townsfolk stumble towards this spectacle; where there was once a fire, a wall of water has consumed it down to the embers. Seeing this, Link and Zelda hold each other close, and laugh and laugh. 

There is nothing else to be said. Zelda rests her head back on the grass, smiling up at Link. Now, he thinks, and catches that perfect smile with a kiss - a lingering, apologetic, long awaited kind, and though it tastes a little of earth and grass, it’s intoxicating. As more townsfolk gather, Link and Zelda pick themselves up and hurry out of sight -- to continue with this new means of communication they have discovered.