Something had happened, she could feel it in her gut. Or, maybe it was the alchohol. Either way, it wasn't too great of a feeling. Malon brushed her fiery red hair away from her eys. Her once beautiful face was dulled from time, worry, and excessive drinking.
Malon looked at the cool brown liquid, the bubbles magnified by the clear, crystalline glass that held it. Drinking was Malon's lifeline. No, she didn't have a problem.
Link wasn't coming back. She knew it. Years of thinking, and drinking had convinced her of it. But, someone was coming.
Putting that thought aside, Malon grabbed the jug, and took a sip. Not satisfied, she went for more, until the jug was drained. That was a mistake. Suddenly she felt a burning sensation in her throat. Her stomach gurgled and her head hurt. Malon collapsed onto the hardwood floor, and puked. Her stomach contents were riddled with red blotches, and the sight of it made her want to throw up again. She picked herself up, and decided it was time to go home.
In her drunken state, the young woman walked, or stumbled rather, to the tavern door. It seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. She managed to open it, and tripped onto the street. Her head hit the cobblestone hard, giving her even more of a headache. There she lie, too weak to get up completely prone. But, as usual, no one would harm her, or rob her. Why? Because no one wants to rape a smelly drunk, and she has no money to steal. Eventually, she would grow tired, and fall asleep in the middle of the street. Someone was usually kind enough to gently move her out of the street, lest she be trampled by the morning rush.
Malon awoke with the sun streaming on her face. But, something wasn’t right. She was in a bed. How is that possible? She fell asleep on a street.
“Good morning sleepyhead!” said a cheerful voice.
Malon emitted a nervous squeak.
A laugh, it was obviously feminine.
“Don’t worry Malon, I won’t bite. Honestly, I don’t think I even can.”
“Who are you?” Malon asked.
“You know who I am.” the girls voice said.
“Show yourself.”
“Very well.” Out from the shadows stepped a ten year old image of Princess Zelda.
Malon’s mouth gaped open.
“Impossible,” she whispered, “you’re dead.”
“Yes,” Zelda smirked, “I am.”
“So...”
“I’m a ghost, yes.”
Malon was stunned. Why was Zelda coming to her, why not Link?
It was almost as if the princess could read her mind.
“I have come to you for a reason, Malon.” the princess stated, “It’s about Link”
“Link!” Malon sat up, “How is he? Has he gotten the killer?”
“Malon,” Zelda closed her eyes and sighed, “Link is-was a troubled man.”
Malon became confused. Was? What did she mean by... Oh no. Her hands flew over her open mouth in shock.
“But we have another problem. The Hero of Time, in his last minute rage, destroyed the one artifact that kept Ganondorf in the sacred realm.”
“That’s not good.”
“No it’s not.”
“So,” Malon queried, “what do you want me to do?”
“You need to convince Link to move on. As it is right now, his spirit prevents anyone from fixing the problem. Malon, you’re the only living being he trusts.”
Look at that. The spoiled princess needs the dirty farm girl. She was tempted to say no, but something inside her sad otherwise, this is bigger than some petty disagreement between her and Zelda.
“Fine,” Malon said, “for Link.”
