Disclaimers/Notes: The Legend of Zelda is something I do not own as an intellectual property. Inspiration for fanfics seems to distract me from working on the things that I do own as intellectual property.

This story was inspired by Liberty Rock by Sergeant Conley. In fact, you can call this oneshot "fanfiction of fanfiction." – with permission. If you have not read Liberty Rock yet, what are you hanging around here for? Go read it!

While Liberty Rock is a tale of war, this is a tale regarding its emotional aftermath – a speculation upon the life of the Hero's widow and the child he never knew.

FOR THEM

by Shadsie

The carriage ride into Castle Town was surprisingly smooth. Val fidgeted in his seat across from his mother as the wheels creaked along.

"Why do I have to wear these stockings?" the boy complained. "They're itchy and these shoes are too tight."

"Do you think I'm happy about what I'm wearing?" Hena replied to her son. "We are meeting with Queen Zelda today and we have to look nice. Dirty boots and fishing waders are not welcome on the palace carpets."

"But my legs itch!"

"Listen, I'll buy you something nice in town, okay?"

"A sword?"

"You're too young, but maybe a wooden one – if you're good."

This was not the first time Valarien had been to Castle Town, but he was only an infant the last time, and even younger the time before that. He was a bright boy and very rough-and-tumble. Hena sought to raise him with the honesty with which she'd been raised and knew that his father would want nothing less. The child had never known his father, but knew all about him. There was no way to stop the stories, even the ones that were not true.

Hena and the boy were headed into Castle Town today for the sake of saving a species. Hena needed to discuss plans with the Queen regarding the re-introduction of the endangered Hylian loach to the nation's waterways. There were some places where the highly predatory fish was not welcomed and others where its presence was absolutely necessary. Although practically a noble now for all the land she owned, Hena's passion remained with nature. Given her wealth, she had been able to pursue her dream of breeding endangered types of fish, even as she kept her old Fishing Hole open for fun.

Most discussion with Zelda was done via written correspondence – for Hena hated to leave her land and her projects, but finalizing the loach-initiative required formal meeting and for the Queen to get a good look at all of her notes and records. She was even bringing a young loach along. It swam about uncomfortably in a glass bowl on the floor of the carriage at her feet.

The last of Link's fish had died last week. Hena thought about that as the carriage moved along. She used to keep the fish he'd caught in a tank at her cabin – back when he was just her customer. He'd made them pets in the time they'd been together. She'd moved them to the living room of the home she'd had built. Eventually, the one he'd called "Scooter," a large, ugly Ordon catfish, received his own tank. He had a tendency to eat anything smaller than he was that placed in the tank. It felt strange, waking up that morning to find old Scooter belly-up. He'd been such a fixture in her life and in little Val's. She'd done a standard autopsy on him (a standard procedure regarding the fish found dead in her waterways as a measure to diagnose and isolate diseases). Scooter had just been old – old and fat. Val had buried him in the backyard with a salute.

Maybe Link had wanted to do a little fishing again wherever he was…

"Do you think we'll see Mr. Shad in town?" Valarien asked.

"Maybe," Hena said. Shad had been to her estate in the last year, offering his services as a tutor under the direction of the Queen. Val was at an age to begin formal schooling, but the estate was so far out in the country as to make attending classes in Castle Town impractical for the child. Hena had been giving him a fair bit of her own brand of teaching. She knew that Zelda wanted to give Val the best. Val had liked Shad – as awkward as the scholar was. Part of what impressed the boy was the man's ears. He hadn't seen many people with pointed ears like his.

"After we go to the palace, are we gonna go to the graveyard and light a candle for Dad?" Val asked, swinging his legs.

"Yes," Hena said with a sad smile. "And for the Hero of Time, too… at the Heroes' Shrine."

There was a shrine in the Royal Cemetery dedicated to the Heroes that had saved and defended Hyrule. People visiting the cemetery often lit small candles for the people they knew buried there. Although no one in this age had ever known him, it was customary to light one for the Hero of Time, for it was rumored that he had become a restless, wandering spirit and needed to be guided home. People had taken up lighting candles for the Hero of Twilight, too.

Despite dying in a brutal battle and being beheaded after death, Hena was sure that her late husband was at peace. There were some that swore that he lingered in the land, or even in Calatia, where he'd died. She did not know what to make of these stories and usually dismissed them. Sometimes, however, standing at the Fishing Hole where they'd first met, when the sunset gleamed off the water just right, she'd feel a strange tickle at her ear and feel a stir in her heart.

Hena did not want to go to the cemetery today. Dealing with Queen Zelda and her advisors would be stressful enough. She worried about the fish in the bowl. It hadn't gone belly-up yet, which was good. Unbidden, she remembered the day of the memorial service for the Hyruleans that had fallen at Liberty Rock. The bodies of two soldiers that had died among those that had escaped were laid to rest that day, along with Link's head. Extended prayers were said for those whose remains could not be brought back to their native soil.

She remembered everyone who spoke – battle-hardened men weeping gently for their comrades… those that cried for Link, too, with their testimonies regarding how he was among those that fought off the enemy so that they could get to the Keep, ensuring their survival. Rusl's testimony was the most painful to listen to. He spoke not of a Hero, but of a son – the adventurous little boy he'd watch grow into a humble, hardworking young man. His own son, Colin had given testimony, as well. Hena remembered the resolve on his face and how he'd shed not a tear before the gathered crowd. He'd spoken of his friend, his brother, and vowed to protect their home province of Ordon in his name.

When Hena herself had spoken (Val being a swell in her belly), she could only speak of her husband. She did not know Rhodus, or Gavelston, or anyone else. She spoke only of Link – and she spoke of a simple man who loved nature, riding, fishing, sunsets, dogs, his friends, and her. And she spoke of how he had been looking forward to meeting their child – that is when she broke down into sobbing.

She let others tell the tall tales. She knew who Link really was, but the heroic stories were what the people needed. They were not for her. They were for them.

Of course, the service ended in the crowd shouting "Remember Liberty Rock!"

Valarien was a fine boy who was growing up loving the things his father had loved. He was just turning schooling age and he could out-fish the best of his mother's customers. Colin and Ilia, when they visited the estate, brought Epona along and were teaching him how to ride (something Hena herself could never get the hang of). A thought struck Hena. She knew just what she'd buy Val in town if he kept his manners. He was at an age where, with her help, he could handle pet that didn't need a bowl. She would find him a nice, healthy puppy.

The carriage came to a halt and a pair of soldiers of the Hylian Guard opened the door for Hena and her son and offered to carry her things.

"The loach!" she gasped as one of the men picked up the bowl. "Be careful with that! Living fish are quite delicate!"

"Apologies, my lady."

She was so unused to being treated with these formalities.

"Wow!"

She turned to Valarien, behind her. He was looking up, up and up. That's right; they were at the steps into Castle Town, that meant…

Hena sighed deeply. Towering above them in cold marble was a representation of Link, the Master Sword in his hand, battle-ready. The artists that created this had captured him reasonably well, technically – particularly with the fierce eyes. However, Hena had never been satisfied with this or any of the statues of her husband in Hyrule. There was something over the top about them, and he'd never been ostentatious. There was something of a small monument in Ordon, recently done, that almost captured him, but it was not a statue. Colin had taken to painting. The village had built a small shrine with a portrait Colin had done of his late friend at its center. The portrait was of Link in common farming clothes, the kind he'd worn when he'd worked as a rancher. It was how Ordon had known him best.

"That's Dad?" Valarien asked, wide eyed, his jaw dropping. "This is different than the pictographs…"

"Yes, honey," Hena said, crouching low to him.

"This is amazing! I thought you said you didn't like the statues."

"I never said that I didn't like them," Hena said, "Just that they don't capture the soul of your father."

"I want a statue of me someday."

"No, you don't, honey."

"Why not?"

"I want to show you something. Look closely." Hena took the boy's hands in hers and ran them over the statue's boots. She ran his hands over subtle little marks left by the chisel that had hewn the stone. "Do you see these grooves here?"

"Yeah, Momma."

"These were left by the hands of the artists that made this. It takes strong hands to wield a chisel."

"Hmm."

"Cold stone cannot capture the soul of a hero, but it can capture the soul of an artist."

"But this is a statue of Dad!"

"His soul isn't here," Hena said gently. "But the men and women who made this statue put a lot of love into it. This is a beautiful work of art – it carries the love and soul of the people who made it."

"Why is everyone looking up to it and talking about how great Dad was?"

"Because it's what they need, honey. This is for the people of Hyrule. Your father represents hope to them, even though he's gone."

"I don't think I understand."

"You will in time."

The child sighed, and then his eyes held something strange, a glimmer. "So, Momma, people make these statues for Dad because they want hope?"

Hena laughed softly. "Yes – though it's not 'for' him, or us, or even about him, in the long run. It is what they need. It is for them."

END.