Notes (March 2011): I originally wrote this when I was twelve. I'm seventeen now, and obviously, my writing style has grown with me. I don't actually have the heart to delete this one, so I've opted to edit Zelda's Lullaby into lullaby for you.

The Legend of Zelda is property of Nintendo Co. Ltd., I do not claim any rights.

lullaby for you

The tune replays relentlessly in his head as he skips merrily into the castle, and he figures that's okay because he's humming the newest of songs, too — somehow he's sure his nervousness will make him forget by the next time the ocarina reaches his lips. He salutes the guards he's familiar with on his way through the castle's many walls, and he's smiling so wide that they're glad to see him, him in his innocence and simplicity and, well, he's just plain cute. Could it really have been this little boy who'd saved them all?

"Hello!" he says cheerily to one of the knights whom he talks to often, the one who's always close to where Zelda is. It's become customary for Link to seek out this knight instead of the princess herself - he's always a tell-tale sign that the girl he seeks is near.

The knight smiles at the familiar sight - he's grown rather fond of the young boy in green and his boyish naiveté. "'Lo there, Link," he greets the boy, "How's everything going for you, young man?"

Link answers with a grin brimming with excitement, "I just got back from Termina!"

The knight has no idea where or what Termina is; sometimes he wonders if maybe Link is making all these fantastic stories up out of thin air - and if he is, the boy's quite the talented orator. Whatever the case, he looks appropriately excited and proud of the eleven-year-old when he says, "Wow! That's great. Did you bring something back for us from Ther-me-na?"

Nodding vigorously and blissfully ignorant of the knight's mispronunciation, Link reaches for an inside pocket in his tunic. He pulls out his fist and motions silently for the knight to come down so as to see whatever it is properly; the knight is obedient, and then Link opens up his grubby fist to reveal in his palm a pearl necklace. It's simple, but handsome, and in its own spectacular way, beautiful — and it's probably worth about the same as one of the king's cloaks.

"That's lovely," says the knight truthfully, and then his light-hearted smile transforms into one of mischief when he asks, "Now, who is it for?"

"For Zelda!" Link exclaims immediately, loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls once, twice. The other guards around the pair look over a little irked; some are whispering something about the princess and that kid, but there's nothing loud enough to pick up properly and it's probably nothing important, either.

"Well," says the knight, standing up at his full height and looking rather official with a salute, "You better go give it to her, then."

Link nods urgently and immediately runs off in the direction of the courtyard.

He finds her the same way he did in their first encounter - looking into the window that opens to the throne room. She senses his presence from behind and turns, and a smile grows on her face in what could be defined as slow motion. "Link!" she laughs, and they run into each other for a hug, like true friends. "I missed you," she says. "Where'd you go this time? Tell me all about it!"

"Termina," Link answers boastfully, puffing out his chest, "It was really cool!" He launches immediately into the story of his adventures in Termina, all about the people and their culture ans their masks. Zelda gasps and laughs and is worried at all the right places; she's a good listener, and he decides to save the part of his vision of her for last. Her smile is warm, and he feels his cheeks burning red, just slightly, when he remembers.

"Oh yeah!" he says, wildly reaching into his tunic, "Someone from Clock Town gave me this." He pulls out the necklace that he'd shown the knight; Zelda's eyes glitter and her mouth is open in an O.

"Wow," she exclaims, "It's so pretty!" She takes it in her hands for a moment to feel the cool pearls, rubbing them between her soft fingers in delight.

"Good," says Link, "because it's yours."

Zelda's head snaps up. "What? I can't —!"

Link forces the necklace into her open palms, and shuts her hands into fists, closing around the pearls. She doesn't let go and he smiles victoriously. Zelda laughs.

"Thank you!"

Satisfied with himself, Link sits down on a soft patch of grass and pats the ground next to him, indicating she sit down, too. She does so wordlessly, and he pulls out his ocarina — her ocarina. The Ocarina of Time.

"I learned a lot of new songs in Termina," he says happily, and when her eyes sparkle, she brings the instrument to his lips and plays. One by one, he plays through every song he'd heard in Termina, and Zelda loves them all — she always does. She loves it especially when wings spread out behind them and tickle her, security around her shoulders that pulls them closer together.

When he's done playing the songs he learned in Termina, somehow it becomes a medley that melts into those from Hyrule. There's Saria's Song of silliness and wonder and a mighty bolero that brings forth a fire in their hearts. Link plays them all, except for one: a lullaby, her favorite. He saves it for last, extends it out and adds his own flavor, and when he finishes he feels a small weight on his legs, wonders how long it's been there. He glances down and sees a young princess, small, smiling, asleep.

He doesn't want to wake her, so he just sits there and watches her; but he'll wake her when it gets too dark or too cold so she doesn't get sick.

Two young adults, age fifteen, will sit upon the beach and gaze out at the sea, oblivious to any thing other than themselves. Behind them there will be a horse, a magnificent mare of chestnut brown.

"Link?" will ask the young woman. She'll be sitting beside him, her head resting comfortable on his shoulder as he looks out at the horizon.

He'll be a young man, she a young woman.

"Yes?" he'll ask softly, and he'll shift a bit as she picks herself up to look into his blue eyes.

"Will you play me a song?"

Silently, he'll pull out an ocarina from an inside pocket, where it always remains close to his heart. "Of course."

And he'll play three sets for her, his eyes closed, hers gazing out at the water. Finally, he'll reach the third set, the most familiar of them all, the one that makes her float in the sky on a cloud of nostalgia. He'll start with the cheeriest of songs and end with a nocturne of darkness. And then he'll play the soft lull...

When he's done he'll glance at his shoulder, where a soft weight will have fallen. She'll be sleeping.

He won't wake her; he'll just sit there and watch her sleep, playing again the soft melody that was, is, and will forever be her lullaby.