Chapter XVII: Departure from Gil-Nemith

The moment Link saw the small, motionless fairy cupped within Falavus’ hands, he knew it was Navi. It was hard to tell through the blood and dirt, but it was Navi. Her fragile and translucent blue wings were mangled and crumpled, broken beyond all repair. Her tiny head of golden hair was disheveled and dirty, and the bare white flesh of her body looked cold, bruised. But most notable of all, her halo of light was gone.

Link went completely hysterical.

“NAVI!” he screamed in a raw voice, lurching from Veil’s arms. Sheik calmly turned around and caught Link about the waist before he could slam himself into the druid. The Hylian wrestled violently, kicking and clawing to free himself and screaming the fairy’s name over and over again as tears made his cheeks glisten.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. It was as if all the air were being crushed from his lungs by a giant’s hand. He gasped and sobbed and struggled to reach her, just to touch her. She was so small, so helpless . . . and he had left her to die out in that terrible forest. Her last moments of life were probably unimaginable, alone in the dark with no one to help her, torn to pieces and her wings smashed, and all those horrible cuts and bruises . . .

Link could hear her crying. He could hear her begging for help, calling out to anyone and receiving no answer. It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have let her go that night. He should have made her stay. He knew the forest wasn’t safe. He knew they were being watched. He knew. He knew! And he let her go regardless!

He had killed Navi. He was responsible for this, for her lifeless little body that had died so cruelly, alone. What were her last thoughts? Were they of Link, the irresponsible child whom she had taught all she knew, whom she had taught to be brave, whom she had taught to be strong and endure, whom she had sacrificed everything for, whom she had raised to be the Hero of Time?

Navi was the closest thing to Link’s heart, the one who remained at his side no matter how terrible and frightening the world around them had become, the one in whose tiny hands he had placed his life countless times, and never had she let him down. And now she was gone. She wasted so many years of her life on one who had ended it.

And he never even got to say goodbye.

As these thoughts came and went through his mind, Link ceased to fight against Sheik’s hold, unable to muster the strength any longer for the silent sobs that shook his entire body. He hid his face in one hand and choked, and his legs went out from under him. Sheik gently eased him down to his knees and helped to keep him upright, and there he let Link mourn.

Veil remained standing, staring in wordless shock at Navi’s body. He was dumbstruck, unable to believe that the little fairy who had showed him such kindness and such joy would do so no longer. Little Navi, with her cheerful voice and bubbly personality, little Navi with her mischief and her knowledge, little Navi who was his master’s closest companion . . . Those broken remains in the druid’s hands, that was all that was left of little Navi.

“Oh, gods, Sheik,” Veil uttered, placing a hand upon the Sheikah’s shoulder to catch himself as he tumbled to the ground. “I’m dying.” He placed a hand upon his chest, and a great sob escaped him. “It hurts so badly inside of me.”

“Falavus,” Sheik begged in desperation. “Please. Tell us she’s not . . . ”

The druid gazed at the young man sadly. “I am not a goddess. I cannot restore life to a being that has passed on.” She looked down at the fairy in her hands. “She is still alive, but only barely. There is not much I can do for her at this point. Death will come shortly now and ease her suffering-”

“NO!” Link screamed, lunging forward. “No! She never gave up on me! By the gods, I’ll not give up on her!” With a passionate rush of newfound strength, he pulled himself from Sheik’s arms and stood defiantly to his feet, breathing heavily. “Now, tell me what I must do to save her, Druid, or get out of my way!”

Link would have given his right arm to save Navi. He would have given anything, really. But Falavus had instructed him that he need only to find the stem of a red orchid that grew on the other side of the river. Though its flowering season had passed and it would be hard to discern from the other orchids, the Hylian was so desperate to save this lost cause that the druid had not the heart to keep him from trying. Perhaps it would help to ease his inevitable pain when the fairy passed away, for at least he would have made an effort to restore her life.

Falavus told Sheik to accompany Link on the frantic search while she and Veil would try to sustain Navi long enough until they returned.

It had seemed like hours they searched, and Link was constantly blinded by tears and falling down, crippled with guilt and plagued by his conscience, but Sheik was there to pull him to his feet again and keep his thoughts focused, and they soon found the stalk of the red orchid they needed, for though the flower had long since withered and died, the tell-tale crimson petals still remained around its base. They quickly cut off the entire stem and returned as quickly as they could.

The druid had taken Navi into her tree-dwelling and laid her out upon some folds of cloth on the table. Veil had been cleaning her gently with a small rag and some warm water, dabbing at her tiny body with care until most of the dirt and grime had been removed. Candles were lit all around the fairy to keep her warm, and as soon as Link and Sheik burst through the door, Falavus confiscated the stalk; quickly she chopped it into pieces and ground it down into a green sludge with her pestle, adding a strange powder to it from a brown leather pouch.

“Rub this on her,” she instructed. “It should help to heal her physical injuries. Quickly now!”

Link sat at the table and took Navi’s limp body into his hand, and, using his smallest finger, dabbed the slimy poultice on her wings and body. He was shaking badly at first until Veil reached over and placed his hand upon the Hylian’s shoulder. This gesture calmed him somewhat and his hands stopped trembling long enough to finish applying the poultice, and he set Navi back down onto the cloth.

“Now what do we do?” Sheik asked, looking up at Falavus.

“We’ve done all we can,” she replied. “She is in the Goddesses’ hands now.”

That day was the longest day of Link’s life. He refused to leave Navi’s side, and Sheik finally had to drag him away to get him to eat something. Even then, Link’s appetite was nonexistent. It was as if food had lost all taste to him. He had neither eaten nor slept very well in the past two days and it was beginning to show: his eyelids were dark and his eyes were constantly red and swollen from crying, his cheeks took on a sickly pallor and his movements had become slow and languid. He looked like a wreck of a man.

Veil spent much of his time sitting at the table with Link, holding his hand and helping to relieve his master’s soul of its burden, but even that did nothing to improve his lackluster appearance. All the life seemed to have gone out of him, like a delicate flower slowly wilting in the first cold frost of winter.

Veil was already devastated enough by Navi’s condition without the weight of Link’s sorrow bearing down on him. The shadow felt himself being crushed beneath the heavy foot of tragedy, and he prayed for a miracle to lift it and allow him to breathe again. Though he knew he had no place to ask for mercy from the ones who had not created him, of whose world he had no part, he prayed to the Goddesses nonetheless. He prayed for them to ease the pain in Link’s heart, to help Navi survive her injuries, to make it so that they could all smile and laugh and be happy once again. He prayed for them all, yet not for himself.

Veil knew that he had no heavenly guardians looking out for him, no Creator to lay out his path before him, no sweet eternity awaiting him at the end of his life, if it even came. He was alone in this wondrous world, a shadow devoid of Heaven’s love and grace. But even though he had no spark of the Goddesses’ divinity within him, even though he was not their Child, perhaps they would hear his plea on behalf of their own Children.

Night was beginning to fall in the forest, the close of their second day in the druid’s realm. Falavus told Link that he had to postpone his vigil over Navi for the time being so that she could prepare some more medicine, and told him rather severely that he needed to turn his attention to himself before he ended up in worser condition than the fairy. Nevertheless, Veil had to pry Link from his seat and pull him outside of the tree by the arm, though it didn’t take much effort—Link was very weak from exhaustion and constant anxiety.

Sheik was nowhere to be seen, Veil noted. Perhaps he was down by the river. He decided to take Link there, if anything so that he could wash the salty residue of tears from his face.

The horses were grazing leisurely in the clearing, enjoying a bit of freedom in the peace of the forest. They were in no danger of wandering as they were quite content to remain where they were. They looked up as the two young men walked by, and Glynfrid whinnied softly.

“Don’t worry about Link,” Veil said to them. “Navi’s going to be just fine and we’ll all be feeling better again, won’t we?” He gazed down at Link, walking with his eyes to the ground. “Won’t we, Link?”

He didn’t reply.

Veil’s hopeful smile faded from his face.

They reached the river by the time darkness had settled, and Veil caught his breath when an ancient feeling of magic and the power of all things sacred wrapped around him as he gazed at the scene before him: fireflies glowed golden yellow as they made their way from between the trunks of the trees like children coming out to play. Their reflections sparkled on the surface of the quietly flowing river like small candle-flames dancing on the cool, gentle breeze. The steady babbling of the water and the songs of frogs and crickets provided a symphony of the night while small patches of starlight beamed down through the canopy above, speckling the carpet of soft green grass and moss with radiant blue splotches.

Veil closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the sweet pure air, and felt as if he could happily spend the rest of his life here. He asked of Link, “Is this not the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?”

But once more, the Hylian said nothing, not even a bitter retort. He pulled himself away from Veil’s touch and walked forward until he reached the river’s edge, staring out at some unseen horizon with his arms limp at his sides. The silence disturbed Veil even more than any sarcastic comment.

Say something. Say anything. Just say that you’re all right.

Link stayed as he was, perfectly still, perfectly silent. The only indication of his life was in the barely visible rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.

“I’m losing, Veil,” he finally whispered, voice rough and arid. “I’ve spent years building these walls, and now I am standing by, helpless, watching them crumble down one by one.”

Link turned around just enough so that Veil could see the sepulchral fathoms of desperation in one blue eye and a gaze that was bare of all emotion; no anger, no hate, no love, no fear, no sorrow. A blue ocean of nothingness.

“My life,” came the hollow whisper, “is collapsing down onto me, and I’m suffocating in the ruins. So much time has been wasted. So many things that mattered once don’t make a difference anymore. I tried to save Hyrule seven years ago, but I was only offering it as a sacrifice to another force of destruction. My quest was utterly pointless. Why did I bother? Why did I care? I . . . I’ve lost sight of what I fought for. I have forgotten what made this life of mine worth living.”

Veil shook his head sternly, though his words were unsteady: “No. Don’t say that.”

“It needs to be said: I’m tired of fighting to save a doomed country. I’m tired of being royalty’s pawn, of having my life jerked about through time as if my happiness didn’t matter at all, as if I were the only person capable of saving Hyrule. I’m tired of this fruitless servitude I’ve been automatically sold into without my knowledge. I’m tired of being the chosen one, of being the Hero, of being who I am.”

Link took a swift breath and choked out, “I’m tired of it all. I . . . I want to die! I don’t want to live this life anymore! I was never asked if I wanted to be born this way. I never would have chosen to be the Hero, not if I knew this was how it was going to be! All I’ve ever wanted was to belong somewhere, to find my kin and my roots, to be a part of a family, to live a normal life and to be loved and cared about for being j-just a simple, ordinary man. But even that was denied to me. I had to be born this way, as the legendary hero I never wanted to be.”

“Link,” Veil breathed, striding over slowly until he stood before the dejected young man, and reached out to cup one smooth, alabaster cheek in his swarthy, scarred hand. “Now you know how it feels to be born a shadow,” he murmured as he stroked the soft flesh with his thumb. “To be given what you have never asked for . . . but understand this.”

He tilted Link’s face up toward his own, and azure eyes met with stony gray. His words came as scarcely a whisper: “I know the pain you feel, for it is also my own. And as long as I remain here in this world, you shall never.”

His face drew nearer.

“Be.”

Warm breath fell upon the trembling, parted lips.

“Alone.”

Blue eyes closed and there came a sigh that passed onto Veil’s tongue, hot and moist and sweeter than anything he would ever know. It was a surrender in all its totality, and the shadow closed his eyes, leaning in slowly to claim both his victory and his utter defeat-

“Link!” a distant voice shouted.

Eyes snapped open and the moment shattered as easily as glass. Link pulled away and turned his eyes in the direction of the call. “It’s Sheik,” he uttered.

Veil swallowed his heart back down into its place and tried to stifle his throe of anguish by running a hand through his black hair and taking several deep breaths. He lingeringly allowed Link’s hand to slip from his own, having not even been aware that he had been holding it in the first place. The warm fingers dropped away as Link cupped his hands around his mouth and called back: “Sheik? Sheeeeik!”

A few moments later the Sheikah appeared from the trees, looking slightly winded. “It’s Navi,” he gasped, striking instant panic into the hearts of the twins; he shook his head vigorously when he saw their distressed expressions. “No! It’s not what you think—she has awoken!”

It was a most joyous occasion at Falavus’ dwelling that evening.

“Through only a miracle has she managed to live this long,” said the white haired druid after the matter. “For no medicine on this earth is capable of repairing the extent of injury I have seen. You must be revered by the Goddesses, Child Feyn¹.”

Though Navi was still too wounded and feeble to reconcile Falavus’ comment, she was looking much fairer than before, her glow slowly returning and the brittle fiber of her iridescent wings beginning to mend like new skin growing over a cut, though much faster than any human’s. Already many of the bruises and scratches that had marred her pale flesh were repaired, and no one could have been happier at that moment than Link, who had been reduced to tears the instant he had burst through the door and rested his eyes upon a groggy but most definitely living Navi.

It goes without mentioning that Veil was just as jubilant as his master, if not more so. Even Sheik, despite his perpetually cool and collected manner, could not conceal his trembling hands nor his brimming, elated crimson eyes.

“It shall be yet a while before she flies again,” Falavus told them as all three young men huddled about the table, “and she can’t properly rest with all of you crowding around her and gawking—it’s best to let her alone for now and allow the medicine to do its work.”

As the druid led them outside, Sheik turned to face her and asked, “The mons—that Siridu. It found Navi and brought her to you, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Apparently he had discovered her caught in a tangle of briars not far from where I found the three of you. She must have been so desperate to free herself that she tore herself almost to pieces trying to get out. She was fortunate to have been brought to us.”

Veil ventured timidly, “Are all Siridu so compassionate?”

“They are deeply aware of all living creatures, and have been known to look after orphaned or injured animals for several years at a time. On many occasions they have brought to me animals that were dying or injured, and though I feel it is not my part to interfere with the course of nature, I cannot help but think that perhaps the Siridu are angels sent to look after those who cannot look after themselves.”

“Angels?” Veil echoed.

Sheik smiled lopsidedly. “Pardon my saying so, but that sounds a bit farfetched, my lady.”

Falavus replied primly, “I never expected anyone to agree with me. After all, I’ve only been on this earth for nine hundred years. What do I know of anything?”

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“I wasn’t patronizing you, Sheik. I was being quite serious. What is nine hundred years in the eyes of eternity? A blink. A flash. A drop of water in the sea of a world in a universe of millions of worlds, if even that. I may seem wise to you, but this I am not; only a fool would believe that wisdom comes with age. Age is but a number, and it counts nothing but a person’s time upon this earth.”

Link sighed softly and massaged his brow. “Time,” he murmured, and raised his eyes to behold the woman of white hair. “You are so fortunate to be freed from its chains, my lady. As for the rest of us, we are still slaves to it.”

“Fortunate?” Falavus scoffed. “Do not mock me, Link. I was not born immortal. No, I was as human as you are, once upon a time. I sought for wisdom, but I was too foolish to find it before I made a grave mistake that rendered me as you see me now: the fair immortal, doomed to walk the earth for as long as it is here, knowing no eternal rest. Do not be so quick to think you are enslaved by time, child. Nay, you are blessed with it.”

It was not their intention to stay so long in Gil-Nemith²—which was the proper name of the southern forest, as Falavus pointed out to them eventually—but they had not counted upon being delayed while waiting for Navi to recover from her injuries. Fortunately fairies healed much faster than humans, and in three days’ time she was up and about, though still unable to fly. Link took to carrying her around on his shoulder when she grew tired of being cooped up in the druid’s tree. She complained good-naturedly of how she wished Link had could have gotten his ears pierced like he had during his first quest, for then at least she could use his earrings as a handle to hold onto.

“Perhaps in another life I will,” he had jested with a grin.

Veil was happy to see his master in fine spirits again, and though the heavy burden of time bore down upon them all the longer they lingered, it was scarcely enough to deter the shadow, who could not remember having ever felt so happy and at peace as when he lay down beside Link each night and held his hand securely.

In fact, everyone seemed to be improving in mood save for Sheik, who could not help but to fret about what Zelda and the Sages must be thinking with them being gone for so long and the clock steadily counting down the hours. Already it had been ten days since he and Link had departed from Kakariko Village, and Sheik was beginning to grow impatient to continue with the journey lest he receive a thorough scolding upon returning to Hyrule.

Finally, on the dawn of the eleventh day of their journey and their seventh in Gil-Nemith, they begged their leave of Falavus. Navi had not yet regained her ability to fly but she told her three companions that she would be holding them back for no reason if they waited for her wings to grow strong again, and the druid gave them a pouch containing the rest of the red orchid poultice in case the fairy should need it en route.

Falavus apologized for not having found the missing pieces to the mystery of the soul shadows, but said that she would continue to study and search for the answers while her guests did what was necessary to their quest. Until then, she advised Link to stay always close to Veil and not to attempt anything foolish or risky—such as experimental magic or death-defying stunts—until she had determined if any collateral damage had to be accounted for.

Though she was loathe to pass Veil into the Sages’ judgment, when asked if she would like to come along with them, she refused adamantly: “Nay, a being such as I does not belong walking amongst the mortal. There is a reason I have hidden away in this forest for centuries; I must remain invisible to the world, for there are so few who would understand . . . ”

They detected a hint of sadness in the druid’s tone, but pressed her no further to join them.

The trio of travelers loaded up the horses and were prepared to leave. Falavus gave them directions for an easier path that ran parallel to the false one they had arrived by. After mounting Glynfrid and helping Link into the saddle in front of him, Veil felt a tap on his leg and turned to see the lady druid gazing up at him with a worried face.

“Take this,” she bade, extending her hand. From it hung a sturdy silver pentacle upon a thin leather cord. She placed it into Veil’s hand and closed his fingers over it. “May the Goddesses bless you, child of the shadows, and continue to watch over all of you on your quest.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Veil said softly, slipping the necklace over his head and tucking it safely underneath his tunic. “I’ll never take it off.”

“We shall return again,” Sheik said definitely. “As soon as the Sages have had a chance to see Veil for themselves, we’ll be back.”

“And we’ll take the correct path this time,” Navi added from her position on Link’s shoulder.

“Very well,” said Falavus. “But do not allow the Sages to manipulate you into doing anything rash. Things are extremely delicate right now, and we wouldn’t want a catastrophe taking place due to unwarranted, foolish actions.”

“We won’t,” Link assured, and took up the reins. “Farewell, Lady of Gil-Nemith. Until we meet again.”

And with that, Sheik and Link led their horses down a green and flowering path through the trees, and Falavus stood in the sunny clearing of her home until she could see them no more.

1 feyn; Celtic cross-deviation of the word “etain” meaning “fairy” and Middle English “fay” or “faie”.

2 gil-nemith; from the Celtic “nemith” meaning “sacred”, and from a deviation of the Welsh “geli”, meaning “grove”.