Note: Significant spoilers for my novelization of Majora's Mask to follow in this chapter.


BOOK I: DEPARTURE

Chapter 1: An Old Song

The sound of the Great Sea was her favorite thing in the world.

Ren hardly listened to her father's warning that lunch would be in an hour. Her chores were over, so she was going outside. The little girl closed the front door behind her, bare feet padding across the wooden porch. The thatched rooftop stretched over to shelter her from sun, but the smell of salt and sand could not be stopped. Ren gripped the railing, smiling at the vast, blue ocean that went on forever.

Except not forever, she knew. The little girl hoped to go to Windfall Island someday, as word spread quickly that it was becoming a center of trade for all the world. When her mother had last visited, Windfall was a pile of rocks with a few tents. I hope it keeps growing. Just like her Outset Island was. The world is only going to keep getting bigger, Ren, her mother had told her.

The little girl smiled. Ren brushed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, running down the wooden staircase to grass. She took a moment to look behind her, at the other wooden houses and the distant mountain. The peak was on their half of the island, though the other side had finally been bridged after years of hopping over stones. Ren looked up to the sky; it was as blue as the sea. She could hardly stifle her laughter. Everything feels so alive today.

Ren jumped into the sand, allowing it to heat her toes and feet as she left the grass. The waves stretched out before her forever, going on and on. They rocked back and forth under the breeze that was carried all the way to her, soft and gentle against her skin. The sound of the water and the seagulls, the taste of the salt and the water; all of it meant the world to her. No matter which island she visited, or where she journeyed in the world, the ocean was always in view. It's perfect.

Of course, her mother had told her the world hadn't always been that way. The fabled legend of Hyrule was once a great kingdom of land, though it had vanished years ago. Sometimes Ren wondered if it was just a story. It was always hard to tell with her mom. If she could be believed, the ancient hero from that time had been best friends with her great grandmother. Anju? she struggled to remember. The hero was real enough, and Anju had been, too. But maybe Hryule is make-believe.

She supposed it didn't matter. The beautiful sun, the rocks, the sand, the ocean, the watchtower, the seagulls, a boat pulling in from far away; those were the things that mattered now. Every time a trader came to town, it was only with good news. Whether Windfall had thrown up a new shop, or Greatfish Isle had discovered a new, life-changing potion, nothing seemed to dull the sun that constantly bore down on them.

Ren sat in the sand, flattening out her dress but not caring as it got dirty. The pier was her companion as she watched the boat approach. The little girl could make out the large men turning the sail, who slowed their ship as they neared the port. Ren dug her toes in the beach, savoring the feeling as sunbaked warmth pushed between her feet. The water stretched outward, only barely missing her as it darkened the shore.

"Ren!" someone called behind her. The little girl turned to find Orca. The young boy's hair was short and dark. He swung a stick out in front of him as he walked to join her, fending off imaginary enemies. He paused when he reached her, smiling. "Guess what?"

"What?" she asked.

"I'm taking the boat out today! Dad's going to let me!"

"No way!" Ren said. "Really?"

"Yeah, right after we help unload this shipment of... whatever they're bringing today." He shrugged that detail away. "Want to come out with us?"

"After lunch," Ren said. "Dad's making chuchu soup."

"Yum. You better bring some with you!" Orca scampered off, swinging his stick to and fro as he battled imaginary foes. His father was exiting their house further inland, though, so Ren knew his playtime would be over soon.

The shipment came closer to the pier. Ren watched the boat near them and the waves rock against the posts underneath. She thought she saw something washed up at its base. Ren rose an eyebrow curiously, getting to her feet. The ship hadn't quite reached the dock yet, and Orca was now talking with his dad. That meant she could keep this discovery to herself.

Ren ran quickly to where the pier met land, ignoring the sea-foam lashing her dress. The girl ducked into the darkness of the dock's underside, lifting the object from the shore. It was sucked inward by brown muck and coated in dry sand, too. She rubbed the land from its surface as she stepped back from the ocean, allowing the pier to keep hiding her from the approaching shipment and the men from Windfall. The girl looked at the instrument curiously, as the waves rocked before her.

It's an ocarina, Ren realized. It hardly appeared damaged by its time in the ocean; its surface was starkly blue. Only the sea threatened to rival its color, but even then, her eyes were wide as she took in its smooth surface. The little girl ran her hand along the instrument, smiling. I'll have to learn how to play it, she thought, turning over the clay in her hands.

However, Ren found one faded spot on the clay. She squinted at the bright patch, which spread to reach the mouthpiece. It seemed as if a dark mark once scarred its surface, etched deep within the ocarina.

It must have washed away. She wondered what else the water had done to it. Hopefully it's not broken. Ren pulled the mouthpiece against her dress, trying to wipe away the taste of salt and mud. She was mostly successful.

The first note sounded more like a screech. Ren winced, looking up between the slats of the pier to see if anyone had noticed. The grown men didn't seem to care, stomping along the wooden boards now that they'd disembarked. Ren crouched behind the nearest pole, watching them step down into the sand. Their knees buckled, as they carried the heavy weight of a crate between them.

"There's a hole in the bottom!" one shouted.

"For the love of Din!" another exclaimed as the heavy box thudded to the sand. "How long has that been there? Did we lose anything in the water?"

Ren immediately turned to the instrument in her hand. I'm not giving it back, she thought. She loved the treasures she found washed ashore more than anything, and this one seemed really important. Ren remained hidden beneath the peer, carefully waiting for her chance to leave.

"I don't know," one of the men finally sighed. "We'll let Mr. Baleia make that call when he gets his delivery."

Baleia was Orca's last name. She knew Orca's dad loved studying ancient things, as did Sturgeon, Orca's older brother. That meant this ocarina was probably really old and important. If I give it back to Mr. Baleia, he'll put it up on some shelf forever. Ren couldn't let that happen.

And she didn't. Ren snuck back home without the sailors noticing her. She almost forgot about her boat ride with Orca, but her young friend showed up in time to remind her. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut about her early morning discovery the whole day at sea. Though, Mr. Baleia kept complaining about his missing artifacts and cursed the men who'd been so careless as to lose them. She felt terrible after that, but Ren never changed her mind.

One bowl of chuchu soup, a really long boat ride, and two helpings of roasted bass later, Ren cradled the ocarina within darkness that housed her small, feather-stuffed mattress. Their house opened up to a hallway leading to a second story, only accessible by ladder. Her room was under this deck, nestled in shadow and shielded from her parents' bed mere feet away in the living area.

She rubbed the smooth, blue surface, transfixed. Mr. Baleia had always been interested in the legends of the old kingdom. She didn't care much for stories, but every person on Outset Island knew the tale of the last hero. The hero who never came back to save the day. Evil won in that story, which is why Ren didn't like it very much.

Yet, she wondered if this ocarina was from that time. And if maybe – in some age long, long ago – the hero himself had played beautiful music to the people of old.


Rain hammered against her face, numbing her cold, clammy skin. She could hardly feel the tears on her cheeks. Her jaw shook, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't speak. I'm so afraid, she thought. Please, someone help me. I don't want to do this alone. The hard, stone ground pressed against her back, and the gray sky stretched endlessly above. She could hear waves crashing somewhere below, but they didn't make her feel warm. Her green clothing was stained black, heavy with both water and blood.

Help me, please help me. Come back. Hurry. The girl felt a deep coldness setting in, as her ears rang and a darkness opened that she fell back into. I'm not ready to die. When her head fell to the side –

– her eyes shot open. Her mother and father sat at the edge of her bed, hands on her shoulder. Deep, shuddering gasps brought Ren back to reality, as she regained control of her breathing and felt the tears staining her cheeks.

"You're okay," her father's sweet voice was all the comfort she needed. "Come back to us, sweetie. You're all right."

Their faces were dark in the late night, warm eyes lowered in concern. Gentle fingers ran along her arm, consoling her.

"It was just a bad dream," her mother said.

"She kept screaming for Epona," her father whispered. "Who's Epona?"

Ren remembered the ocarina in her hand, and before she could hide it, her family saw it in her open palm. "It did this," Ren realized, hardly able to get the words out. She told them where she found it: on the beach. She told them she suspected it was on its way to Mr. Baleia, and then they were out in the cold night, on their way to his house.

For a young father, Mr. Baleia didn't have much hair. His beard more than made up for it, almost level with his chest. A quizzical expression greeted them from his open doorway, beholding the tall, strong woman, her short, round husband, and the little, sniffling girl between them.

They shuffled inside and took seats on the stiff, wooden furniture, surrounded by bookshelves and trinkets. Mr. Baleia remained standing and pacing, turning the instrument over in his hands. "Artifacts from the old kingdom are not toys," he muttered. "You shouldn't have stolen this."

"I didn't know," Ren said, seated in her father's lap. "I'm sorry."

"Did it hurt her?" her mother asked. "She kept saying names we've never heard of before. What was it, honey? Ep… Epona?"

"She'll be fine," Mr. Baleia said with certainty. "Memories attracted to this ocarina must have reached your daughter. Powerful magic sleeps here."

"Powerful magic?" Ren's father stammered. "Are you sure she'll be okay? What if some of it is left inside of her?"

"Powerful, but harmless," Mr. Baleia clarified. "Echoes from the past can't hurt us. They may scare us when we find them, but all they want is to be remembered."


She pulled the green linen taut, pressing out wrinkles with heat and metal. The lighter undershirt and pants fit snugly within the outer layer, arms folded carefully over the tunic. She wrapped a leather belt around the chest, buckling the golden, metal swirl so it held the outfit together in a perfect square. The old woman laid the clothes carefully over the dining room table. She smoothed the edges and rubbed the material between her fingers.

An entire lifetime separated her from that terrible night now, but Ren never let that echo from the past go. She'd woken up from the same dream too many times to count, always carrying that profound fear and sadness in her tears. Though, most nights were not so dramatic as to wake her parents with sobs. Even the deepest pain dulls with age.

And yet, Ren never wanted it to go away. Mr. Baleia may be long dead and now an echo of the past himself. But one particular echo had found her as a child and made a home in her heart. Long ago, a hero name Link died alone on a cliff in the middle of a heavy storm. His only company was the cold, wet tunic she'd fashioned perfectly from memory and the ocarina he threw into the ocean. And that ocarina had found her, crafted by magic and woven with memory.

Mr. Baleia is the only person Ren ever told that she suspected the hero from old is who called to her, a secret he carried to his grave. She never touched the ocarina again to learn more. She never questioned the nature of the dream or the magic, because Mr. Baleia was right. She felt that it was a powerful, magical memory in her bones. Ren allowed the dream to come when it needed to; it was a burden she was content to bear. And now, her oldest grandchild turned seventeen today. Finally of age, she thought. That means we can all honor the hero together for one day.

She would do everything in her power to keep that echo alive. In a time of need, a memory reached out for her company. Ren would not let it die alone again.


Note: Well. I did what I said I wouldn't do (though to be fair, I did always make sure to add the caveat 'you never know.') I've returned! For those who've read my novelization of Majora's Mask*, I'll direct you to my profile if you're interested in a brief life update. I'll keep my note here relevant to narrative concerns. Long story short: quarantine free time, nostalgia, and ideas that I simply got too excited about all combined to create… this!

Legends of Which the People Speak will be an incredibly 'loose' novelization of The Wind Waker*. Those who read Majora's Mask may recall that I stuck pretty close to the provided Nintendo plot, though with extensive liberties and added detail. I will be taking far more extreme liberties with this novelization. There are a few reasons for this: 1) I am not interested in writing another 'Link saves the day' story, as MM will remain my take on that. 2) Unlike with MM when I wrote it, there are other completed novelizations of WW that keep close to the main plot. You should check those out if you're looking for a more 'faithful' retelling! 3) I think my ideas will justify these significant departures.

This novelization is a direct continuation of my version of Majora's Mask (including the epilogue The Light Spirit*). While this story will certainly stand on its own, there are references born of my original ideas from MM. Though there were no significant original characters in MM, several pre-established ones took on a life of their own. I do not believe it is necessary to have read either MM or TLS to enjoy LWPS in the slightest! A warning though: MM is full of narrative surprises that this story will certainly ruin, so if you're truly interested in reading MM, I'd give it a go first.

I acknowledge MM is significantly darker thematically than WW, but because of my writing tendencies, this novelization of WW will likely have a darker tone than the game. This story will not be as long as MM. I do not believe it needs to be. I do have a few narrative twists up my sleeve reminiscent of my first story, though we'll see if I can live up to the bar I set almost a decade ago!

For those that care about "official" Zelda lore, my MM novelization began before Hyrule Historia was published. I did my research throughout the writing process, to make sure I followed the narrative parameters Nintendo set. Then that book came out and invalidated a major plot point in my tweaked Zelda verse, namely its timeline (as WW follows MM in 'my' version). Now, that doesn't negatively affect this story in any way, and I think I can adequately justify that "departure," for those who care about that sort of thing (so just message me). Nonetheless, I thought it worth mentioning here.

*Some of the characters, lines of dialogue, scenarios, and settings in this story are owned through copyright law by Nintendo EAD.