The Legend of Zelda: Zelda's Honor

Event 1: A Moment Remembered

This idea came to me so strongly as the suggestion from a friend, Sn0wShepherd. The idea was so powerful that it took ahold of me and that I had to write it out for you to read. Ruto, more than anyone, is a tragic figure and one whose life is full of misery. In Ocarina of Time, she lives and enjoys a long life in the alternate future Link gives them, but is forever barred from having Link as her beloved. Just the same here in the Child's timeline where she meets an unhappy end with Ganondorf during his banishment and still does not have Link as her beloved. Her heart is aching and her soul is yearning for happiness. I love Ruto as a character and yet I cry every time I write for her because I know what her ultimate fate is to be. This small chapter (labeled an 'event') can be read outside of the main fanfic story itself or as part of it in-between Acts 1 and 2. It gives a bit more insight into Ruto's state of mind and heart. For those who feel for Ruto, here is more to feel about.

Event 1: A Moment Remembered

Ruto woke with a start, placing her palm gently to cup her aching loins. She felt the dribbling ooze of seed slip out of her as she winced in memory of the horrific fury Naar was in the previous evening. He stormed into the tent, belt buckle flying and trousers dropping as he threw her to the furs and pounded deep into her with the force of a battering ram. She dared not cry out for fear of having him hit for her weakness. She bit her lower lip and endured the agony as he slammed into her time and again, an animalistic snarl heralding the onset of his release.

She turned her head to see the bed empty and the covers ruffled and splayed out across the bed, some draping down to brush the dusty floor of earth and grunge. He must have left earlier seeing as how his clothes were mysteriously absent from the chair and table where they fell during the commotion. She sat up shakily as she held her body tight, rocking back and forth as the ebb of pain began to slowly drain away from her being.

How long had she been cooped up in this tent? How long had she been forced into this life? She could barely remember the years of days long past when she recalled swimming with her kin through the tranquil, blue waters of home; nothing but a distant memory now. She scoffed at herself for fancying such wayward thoughts. This was her life now and she best be sure she got used to it!

Shivering slightly as she stood, she wrapped the dark cloak around her, clasping the brooch around her neck to keep it affixed to her frame. It was a 'gift', as Naar liked to call it, for her during their second year together. At the time, it was far bigger than she was and it dragged across the ground as she walked. These days, she had grown much taller and the bottom edges of the cloak reached to her ankles. It was suffocating in the harsh heat of summer but it was refreshingly warm and cozy during the bitter reaches of winter.

Ruto paced over to her small corner of the tent where Naar allowed her to keep some fashioned relics or trinkets. In some small way it was a bit of solace for her to think he'd permit such petty things within their tent. However she did not question and instead cherished the time she had with her treasures.

She picked up a wilted and shriveled flower from a vase filled with dirty water. Such a precious, fragile thing she had found just the other day when going out on a raid in the nearby province of Eldin. She had knelt down to the flash of color that caught her eye and plucked it from the ground. She twirled it this way and that and marveled at its simplistic beauty. Thinking it novel, she took it home and decided to care for it. It did little good as it slowly putrefied and died within days of placing it in the water. Now it was just a shadow of its former self.

Setting the flower back into the vase, she picked up her mud figures. During the deep cries of the night, Naar snoring uncomfortably beside her, she'd roll over and reach down into the muddy dirt beneath their bed and form figurines from the refuse. Naar would routinely destroy them and crush them beneath the heel of his boot, claiming them childish and foolish. She did not care, she continued to make them and play with them. Coming up with grand adventures and feats of daring do, she would have them enact those scenes with gusto.