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“Time, I have a question for you.”
Time hums in acknowledgement, patting the grass next to him so Four can take a seat. The smithy does so, crossing his legs and hiking his elbow up on his knee, letting his face fall into his hand. One glance at his eyes reveals a purple hue decorating them. Inwardly, Time prepares himself for a barrage of inquiries. When Four’s irises reflect violets, it means his brain will be put to work to answer him.
“It’s about your wife,” he continues, locking eyes with the old man. Time raises an eyebrow, mildly impressed by his boldness.
They have been at the ranch for a day, and already he can feel his shoulders losing the tension that clings to them when they are travelling across eras. Here, at least, he can trust they are safe from danger. The ranch is big enough to handle everyone’s adventurous spirits, but small enough to keep track of them all. The best part is that monsters steer clear of this place like it houses infectious disease. Malon has never been able to tell him why.
Speaking of Malon, he had been under the impression that the first meeting was a hit. The boys seemed to take her presence in stride, quickly adapting to her rasping voice and warm arms like she had always been there. A few jabs had been thrown at Time here and there for settling down, but he thinks they genuinely like her. Not that he did not think they would.
Wild is first to the kitchen as the sun dips in the sky, pulling out new herbs and spices from his Slate and pushing them into Malon’s hands. Hyrule has been not-so-subtly refilling the sugar water bowls before she can get there. Sky has taken complete control of cucco wrangling with a wide smile. They all want to help out however they can.
Thankfully, she has taken a shine to them too. Twilight, specifically. He is glad they are getting along.
“What about her?” He asks, leaning back on his arms. The sun is especially bright today. He should go hang the washing up in a minute. His eye catches on Wind and Warriors, tussling on the ground near the horse stable. Wind is gaining the upper hand, judging by his chanting and Warriors’ groans of pain. A closer look and, yes, Wind went for the low shot.
Maybe those two should hang up the washing.
Four closes his eyes for a moment, frowning, before he opens them and says, “I have seen her before.”
Time sits up. The smithy does not have much to say about his adventures. Not out of any secretive obligation, he thinks, but because he does not share much on principle. This conversation might change that.
Time hopes it is not time travel. He can safely say he has more than enough experience in that area. It is not a thing he would wish upon anyone.
Four nods when he sees the expression on Time’s face. “There is a Lon Lon Ranch in my era too, just outside of East Hyrule. Two people live there, named Malon and Talon.”
He is not overly surprised. Lon Lon Ranch has a long and complicated history, which Talon claims begun with the founding of Hyrule. The family business had long been established before Time’s era, so he can see it being present in Four’s era too. The identical names do not scare him either. Himself and Malon have had a long talk about her ancestors’ naming history, and it had been a unanimous agreement to abandon the tradition of calling girls Malon and boys Talon. They can be more creative than that.
Time taps on his knee and informs Four of that information.
The smithy listens intently, and when he is finished speaks up once more. “There’s more,” he says, and he at least has the grace to look a little apologetic. “The Malon in my era also has a horse called Epona, and has a song called ‘Epona’s Song’.”
That causes Time to blink rapidly. Malon had told him, in no uncertain terms, that Epona’s Song was also her song. It had been composed by her mother, and whenever she sings it, it is a reminder of those she loved. It just so happened that it is Epona’s favourite song as well.
If it had been composed by Malon’s mother, then how did Four’s Malon know about it?
They could be closer together in time than they previously thought, making that Malon his Malon’s mother, but that does not make sense. There are no legends now about the Hero of the Four Sword, or even of the threat Vaati once presented to Hyrule. It has been long enough for that knowledge to erode in the flow of time.
“See?” Four says, dragging him out of his thoughts. He points at Time’s face, and he brushes his fingers over that area to reveal wrinkles from where he is frowning. Ah. He quickly smooths his expression back into neutrality. “You see the issue, right?”
“…It certainly is strange,” Time agrees eventually, although he does not know what Four is trying to get at here. Consistencies in their eras are more common than not. Beedle comes to mind instantly – he may have never met the man, but too many of his boys have. The evaluations on his character are mixed at best.
“I have a theory,” the smithy continues, ignoring Time’s words. Four’s theories are… definitely interesting. When they had all first met, Sky had quietly asked Time what he thought went on in his head. The kid was very quiet, joining conversations at random and dipping out of them just as quickly. At the time, he had said that he did not know. After all, they had only been travelling together for two weeks. That was not nearly enough time to know someone’s inner thoughts.
Now, however, he knows for sure. It is all of his extensive theories.
Four opens his mouth to say something more but is cut off by a voice piping up behind them. “Malon is in your era as well?” Time tips his head back to see Legend, upside down with crossed arms.
“You as well?” Time asks, sighing inwardly. More fuel for Four’s conspiracy fire. He will consider himself lucky if Malon manages to avoid hearing about this entire thing. The jokes would be endless.
“Sort of,” is the reply. Legend crouches behind the two, sticking out his hands to use their shoulders for balance. “I have a Malon and Talon as well, but they only raise cuccos. Nothing like this.”
“My theory,” Four interrupts. The purple shade to his eyes is even deeper than it was a few minutes ago. Time does not think he has ever seen his eyes get so vibrant before. “Malon is a time traveller.”
A beat passes. Time turns his head to share a meaningful glance with Legend, before they look back at the smithy. “Really?” Legend asks, prompting him onwards.
The smithy nods furiously, straightening himself up. He knocks Legend out of balance, who has to pinwheel his free arm and cling onto Time’s shoulder for dear life to stop himself falling backwards. He does not think Four even notices.
“She comes from the era of the Hero of Time,” he says, like that answers anything at all. Idly, Time wonders if Four knows about the Ocarina of Time. Judging by the gaze burning a hole into his side, where the ocarina is clipped to his waist, he thinks he can safely assume yes. How he figured it out is a mystery for another day.
“…And?” The veteran says, raising an eyebrow. “You never suggested that Beedle was a time traveller, that one time.”
Four shoots him a flat look. “Beedle does not live in the era of the Hero of Time.”
“He could still be a time traveller.”
“No.”
Time can already see the way this particular conversation will play out, so he decides to interject. “Any other evidence?” He asks. It is not that he disagrees with Four’s theory, necessarily, but he highly doubts in the time travelling capabilities of his wife. That had been solidified when she called the Song of Time ‘a bunch of hocus pocus’. He does not think she would mess around with time travel.
Him bursting into tears after suggesting it likely helped that along.
“The Malons all look identical,” Four says.
Legend raises an eyebrow. “Proof?”
The smithy holds up a finger, sticking a hand into his pocket and pulling out a roll of paper, a small pen and pot of ink. It should be surprising for those items to be in anyone’s pocket, but this is Four. Of course he has those things to hand. It is awfully in character.
For his part, Four immediately unrolls the paper and starts sketching away. Time settles back, and he feels Legend take his hand off his shoulder to sit properly on the ground to prepare for the long haul. A hurried scratching fills the air. Time turns his head to engage the veteran in a new conversation to pass the time, but he is cut off by something being thrust into his face.
Once more, he has underestimated Four’s ability to hustle for a theory.
He carefully plucks the sheet of paper out of Four’s hands, holding it further away so he can see it clearly. The ink from his pen has scratched out a scarily familiar face – one he has not seen in quite a few years.
Malon’s wide eyes stare back at him. She does not look like how she does now, rather how she did when he met her for the first time. A wide grin is plastered across her face, framed by the messy red hair that she used to cut herself. The scarf around her neck is fastened with her favourite brooch – the one of the dragon, sharp teeth and pointed horns curling around a wicked smile. Even the patterns along the edge of her dress are identical, complete with the clunky boots she had bought specifically to help out on the ranch.
It’s like looking into a photo from Wild’s Slate. It is a wonder Four does not show off his drawing skills all of the time.
“Does this look familiar to you?” Four asks, taking it out of Time’s hands to shove it in his face again. Then he does the same to Legend. Neither of them needed the extra look. “Does it?”
“…Yeah, actually,” Legend murmurs, eyes widening. “It looks exactly like her.”
Both of them turn their gazes to Time. He allows his eye to fall on the drawing one more time, tracing the lines and splotches of ink. Eventually he hums and says, “Yes. She did look like that when we were younger.”
“See?” Four exclaims, pointing at the drawing. “A carbon copy! She has got to be a time traveller! I have gone through all other possible theories and this is the only one that makes sense.”
“What other theories?” Legend asks. He shoots Time a grin when the old man’s lips twitch. “I mean, time traveller makes the most sense, right?”
The veteran does not believe that. He is definitely only saying that because he knows Time does not want this to be one of their things. Like how his boys are always trying to find Beedle to interrogate him. Or how everyone is convinced he is pushing his eighties.
“I had considered clones, the Dark Mirror, or immortality, but those are all stupid,” Four says, like accusing a woman of being a time traveller out of nowhere was any sounder. Not that Time will say anything. He would never crush his imagination. “I shattered the Dark Mirror so it cannot be that, and if she was immortal she would not have aged.”
Legend nods slowly. There is an indent to his cheek, and his shoulders are shaking; his attempts to suppress his laughter are not overly successful. “What about clones?”
“Incorrect.”
“Ah.”
“What will you do with this theory?” Time questions, purposefully relaxing his shoulders. He sincerely hopes Four does not suggest asking Malon about it. She will break into laughter, then laugh again when she sees the expression on his face, and then finally agree to time travel even though he knows it would be wrong.
He just got everyone to get along. He does not need them to drag Malon into their nonsense.
“I will…” Four begins, but he trails off. His head tilts consideringly to the side and he glances away. Every second he is silent allows Time’s panic to creep upwards. He is about to open his mouth to advise the course of action, but the smithy resumes.
“…do nothing, obviously,” finishes Four. When he looks back, his eyes have shifted to a brighter green. Time will continue to never anticipate his response to anything. “I don’t care if she’s a time traveller. Just food for thought.”
With that remarkable closing statement, the smithy pushes himself off of the floor and walks in the direction of Wind and Warriors. The sailor is now standing on top of Warriors and lifting a hand victoriously. The captain does not appear to be conscious.
Time and Legend sit there in silence for a minute, taking in the metaphorical bomb that just went off in front of them. The sun is still shining brightly, and the birds are still chirping in the trees, and no one else was there to witness Four’s theory-crafting. Time adds this conversation into his list of things he will never bring up again.
He also amends his task list. Looks like Four wants to hang up the washing with Wind. What a delight for the two of them.
“…So,” Legend says, voice trembling. Time looks up to see a smirk slowly spreading across his face, and sighs in defeat. He will not be living this one down. “You married a time traveller?”
Time is not gracing that with a response. “I think Twilight needs a hand chopping firewood,” he says, raising to a stand as well. His knee clicks quietly as he does so. Legend copies his movements and begins walking away.
“He does not!” The veteran calls over his shoulder, but Time can see him going up to the rancher’s side. Twilight welcomes him with a wave and a quiet greeting. At least that situation is dealt with.
Later that night, as he falls into bed with Malon for the first time in months, she holds her arm out and lets him press against her side. A soft breeze drifts in through the window. It carries the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves with it. Her hands come up to his hair, and he does not flinch away as she cards her fingers through it.
Just as he is about to drop off into sleep, she whispers quietly, “Link?”
“Hm?” He squints open his eye to look up at her. She is shadowed in the night, but he can make out the smile that rests on her face. How unfair it is, he wonders, that he cannot see it every night.
All his thoughts are hurriedly stopped when she says, “What’s this about me being a time traveller?”
Legend is going to be on washing up duty for the next week.