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Link usually hated waking up early, and forcing himself to get out of his warm, comfy bed was especially difficult on cold winter mornings. But today he couldn’t wait to get up. Princess Zelda, his best friend from childhood, was coming to visit!
Although, truth be told, he liked her as more than a friend. Much more.
A wide smile spread across his face when he pulled back the curtains and saw that the first snow of the winter had fallen overnight. It wasn’t much – barely a dusting – but it was still a welcome sight. Zelda loved snow. Link loved snow, too – especially because it made Zelda happy. The sky was still gray from the snow clouds, although no more flakes were falling. Link didn’t mind the dim daylight; it would make the fire he was going to light seem that much brighter.
What a perfect day, he thought to himself as he descended the stairs, taking in a deep breath of fragrant air. His living room was filled with an invigorating evergreen scent from the fir tree he’d brought inside and decorated in preparation for Hylia’s Day. All that was needed now was a fire in the fireplace, a batch of cocoa, and Zelda.
Fortunately he’d tidied up the day before, using his gust jar to dust the floor, shelves, and keepsakes. Most of the figurines that he had obtained from trading mysterious shells during his childhood quest had long since been sold or given away, but he’d kept several of the most precious ones. In the workshop he kept one of his late grandfather, a renowned swordsmith, who had taught Link everything he knew. Alongside it was one of King Daltus, a close friend of Link’s grandfather.
But the most beloved figurine was one of Zelda as a young girl. Her statuette was prominently displayed in a place of honor, front and center on the mantel in the living room. A figurine of young Link stood next to it, staring adoringly at the princess, almost close enough to hold her tiny porcelain hand.
Link got a fire started and set a kettle of water on the stove. He put two mugs on the kitchen table and pulled a couple of packets of cocoa mix and a mostly-empty bag of marshmallows from the pantry. Gobbling down a buttered croissant for breakfast – with no tooth-breaking Kinstones baked inside – he finally felt almost ready for Zelda’s arrival.
Candles! he thought. I should light some candles! The fire in the fireplace was a good start, but a few glowing candles would make for an even cozier atmosphere. There was a single, partially-burned bayberry votive already on the coffee table, but he figured more would be even better. Rummaging through a kitchen drawer, he found an unopened box of tea light candles and some matches. He shook loose a handful of tea lights and tucked the box with the rest of them back into the drawer. Soon the coffee table was glowing with several flickering candles, adding an air of subtle romance to the ambient firelight.
There was a knock at the door just as the kettle began to whistle. Link ran to the door and flung it wide open, and Zelda was suddenly in his arms, her cold, pink cheek pressed to his warm one.
“Brr!” she said, mainly for dramatic effect, as she pulled off her coat, hat, and scarf to hang them in Link’s coat closet. She balled up her gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of her coat.
Link took one of her hands in his; even though she’d been wearing gloves, he could tell her fingers had grown cold during her walk to his house. “Come and warm yourself by the fire,” he said, ushering her toward the hearth. “Want some hot chocolate?”
“Always!” she said. He knew she would. He’d never known her to turn down chocolate.
Zelda settled onto the couch in front of the fireplace and pulled a throw over her lap as Link headed to the kitchen. He returned with a steaming mug of cocoa in each hand and the squishy bag of marshmallows stuffed into his pocket.
Link handed Zelda her cocoa and sat down next to her; warming her up was a nice pretext to sit close. His heart leapt in his chest and beat just a little faster when she spread the throw over his lap as well. Together they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, gazing at the crackling fire and sipping their hot chocolate.
Zelda’s mug was mostly empty when she finally seemed comfortably warm, but to Link’s delight she continued cuddling against him under the throw, resting her head on his shoulder.
“This is nice,” she said. “I’m really glad I was able to get away from the castle and come visit today.”
“Me too,” Link said, feeling a warm flush spread across his cheeks. “I love having you here.”
Zelda’s eyes wandered to the fir tree; it sparkled with tinsel and gleaming ornaments and colorful twinkling lights. Under the tree, a box encased in ornate gold-foil wrapping paper and a sleek red ribbon sat glimmering in the flickering firelight. “Have you finished your Hylia’s Day shopping?” she asked.
Shopping wasn’t necessarily the right word. Link had made Zelda’s gift himself. Well, part of it, anyway. He’d forged the blades in his grandfather’s smithy, putting as much care into his work as he always put into crafting the finest swords in Hyrule.
He’d enlisted a tradesman from the nearby town to help with the rest of it, and the work had been finished several days prior, a few weeks ahead of schedule, with plenty of time to spare before the traditional day of gift-giving.
“Uh, well, I do have a present ready for the most special person in my life,” Link said. Zelda cocked an eyebrow at him. “You,” he clarified.
“Oh! That’s for me? What is it?” Zelda still got as excited about surprises as she did when they were kids.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Link said, taking a sip of hot chocolate and trying his best to play it coy. He knew that if she insisted on opening it now, he wouldn’t be able to say no. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and seeing her happy would be sweeter than the cocoa in his mug.
“Aw,” she pouted. Adorably. “Well, I suppose that’s fair. I… don’t have a present for you yet,” she added, remorsefully.
Link had to hold himself back from making a dorky comment like your presence is my present. He tried to force his thoughts in another direction so he wouldn’t say something too embarrassing, or give in and offer her the gift right now and then have nothing for her when they saw each other on Hylia’s Day.
“So…” he started, trying to change the subject. “It snowed today!”
“Yes!” she said. “It’s pretty, but not very deep. Like, maybe half an inch or so. I wish we could go outside and build a snowman together. Or have a snowball fight.” She pouted, again for dramatic effect. “We’ll get some real snow soon though,” she added with a soft smile. “I hope.”
Link grinned at her. “I’m sure we will, and then—" He stopped mid-sentence when he thought he heard a voice from somewhere near the front door. “Uh, then you can pelt me with all the—” There it was again. Link got up from the couch uneasily. “All the snowballs you like.” His brow furrowed. “Did you hear something?”
“No,” she said, her own brows also knitting in concern.
His grin was gone as he wandered toward the door. He glanced around in confusion and peered out the window. Opened the front door, looked outside, and closed it again. Opened the door to the coat closet and poked his head inside.
“Link?” Zelda called from the couch. She felt a bit perplexed when he seemingly began talking to himself from inside the coat closet.
“Really? You can do that?” he said in a hushed voice. There was a brief pause. “You think so?”
“Link, what’s going on?” Zelda asked. “Who are you talking to?”
“Um… just a minute, Zelda,” Link answered, distractedly throwing his coat on. There was a brief flash of something green being stuffed into one of his coat pockets. He ran to the kitchen, quickly grabbed some small boxes from a drawer and slipped them into his pockets too, and then made his way back to the front door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes!” he shouted as he ran outside, fumbling with a pair of gloves.
What in the world has gotten into him? Zelda wondered as she drank the last of her now-tepid cocoa alone. Several minutes passed and she began to feel lonely and unsettled, sitting in Link’s house by herself.
She got up from the couch and approached the fire. Her fingers traced the old, worn edge of the wooden mantel; it was clean and free of dust despite its aged condition. Her gaze came to rest on the two figurines in the center: one of her, pointed outward toward the living room, and one of Link, facing the one of her.
She picked up Link’s statuette and held it gently in her hands. “Link, my dearest friend,” she whispered. “I hope you haven’t gone completely bonkers. Please come back. I came here to spend time with you.”
As if she summoned him, Link burst through the door, panting just a little.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked. “I know the snow isn’t very deep, but I think we can still enjoy it.” He pulled a box of matches from one coat pocket and what appeared to be an empty box of tea lights from the other, setting them down on a nearby shelf.
“I’d love to!” Zelda put his figurine back down and went to the coat closet to grab her winter garb. “I hope you’ll tell me what’s going on, though.” There was a teasing edge to her voice, masking her concern.
“I’ll show you,” he said, wrapping her scarf around her neck while she put her gloves on.
Outside, the world was covered with a thin layer of snow; it reminded Link of the powdered sugar dusted atop slices of fruit pie at Wheaton and Pita’s bakery. In the overcast morning light the snow looked as soft as plush, and just barely crunched underfoot as Link led Zelda along the well-worn path toward the forest.
Every bough of every tree was lined with snow. Link couldn’t help but notice the quiet smile of admiration on Zelda’s face as she gazed through her foggy breath at the winter setting all around them. This seemed the most beautiful kind of snowy scene, when the air was still and the snow was new and just light enough to rest on every crevice of tree bark, every twig, every evergreen needle.
As they approached the forest, the clouds parted, and suddenly the world was drenched in dazzling bright white, sparkling like glitter. Correction: this was the most beautiful kind of snowy scene.
Link and Zelda walked through a stretch of woods and presently approached a small clearing near a stream. There was a big, old, decaying tree stump, and nearby was a flat stone on the ground where the snow had been brushed away, and several burning tea lights sat in a circle. Surrounding the candles were decorative twigs of pine and holly, looking suspiciously like they’d been arranged deliberately. In the center of the ring of lights was a rather ordinary stick, lying on the ground.
“You… brought candles out here?” Zelda asked, intrigued but still puzzled, still wanting an explanation for Link’s odd behavior.
“C’mere,” he said, stepping up onto the stump and holding her hand to help her climb up onto it with him. “You remember when we were kids… when I had that cap with the cursed sage’s spirit in it?”
Zelda nodded. “Yeah. Ezlo.”
“Yes.” Link reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a floppy green hat. “He gave me this cap as a parting gift after the curse was broken.”
“I remember.”
“But he didn’t tell me that it could channel his voice, and his powers. Not until today.”
Zelda looked down at the plain conical hat in Link’s hand. “What are you saying?” she asked.
“I’m saying… if we were tiny, this light dusting of snow would be enough for a snowball fight.”
Zelda’s eyes widened; she looked up at Link, speechless.
He pulled the cap over his head and took both of her hands in his. “Would you like to try that?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, and as she did, a swirl of musical notes engulfed them and the world grew to enormous proportions. All the trees around them seemed to zoom up toward the sky. The stump under their feet became a vast expanse of rough wood.
Link and Zelda stood there, still holding hands, blinking at each other as the situation set in. Then, giggling, they ran to the edge of the stump and clambered down, finally sliding knee-deep into the thick blanket of snow on the ground.
Zelda reached down and picked up a single snowflake, holding it daintily in her gloved hands. Although it was not particularly large by snowflake standards, it was almost as big as her face. She had never seen a snowflake so up-close before, and she examined it like a scientist who had become the microscope, gazing in awe at the delicate glassy structure.
Instinctively she held her breath, not daring to exhale on the crystalline lace of the six icy prongs. An iridescent ribbon of refracted sunlight shimmered along a ridge of the snowflake, meeting Zelda’s eyes like the muted rainbow fire of an opal. Tilting it in her hands to see the colors dance again, she gripped the snowflake just a little too hard, and the whole thing shattered into icy dust.
No matter. There were others. Each with its own unique shape and hexagonal symmetry. Each its own image of beauty and wonder, a fragile fractal filigree. Zelda stared, enraptured, at the winter wonderland piled around her knees, as if she were seeing snow for the first time.
And finally she realized that Link was staring, enraptured, at her, much like his little figurine on the mantel. Something stirred in her heart as if she were seeing him for the first time, too.
She had almost forgotten what they came here for. Reaching down to scoop up an armful of snowflakes, she tried to mold them into a ball. But they crumbled into powdery flecks and fell at her feet.
Hmm. It was a dry snow, not optimal for forming snowballs. Oh, well.
She scooped up another armful of snow and threw it at Link like confetti; with a grin he quickly retaliated in kind. For a moment, the two of them were like a living scene in a snow globe as the flakes fluttered down around them, emitting the faintest tinkling sound as the ice shards struck one another.
“I think if we want to build a snowman, we’ll need to melt the flakes enough for them to stick together,” Link said, pulling his gloves off and pressing his bare hands into the snow. The warmth of his skin turned the edges of the flakes into liquid water just long enough for them to adhere to each other as the water froze again.
Folding and kneading the snowflakes in his hands, occasionally adding a puff of warm breath, Link patiently built a small wad of ice crystals bonded together in a lacy array of mostly empty space. Zelda followed his example, gathering flakes and patiently molding them, adding to the structure Link had started until they had a pile of snow that came up to their waists.
Repeating the process for two successively smaller balls of snow, they stacked them into a little Picori-sized snowman. Link collected tiny pebbles for the snowman’s eyes and facial features, while Zelda scavenged an acorn cupule to serve as a cap. With a couple of twigs for arms and a few vibrant red holly berries as oversized buttons – pressed into the snow torso with the same patient melting and re-freezing that built the structure in the first place – their tiny snowman was finally complete.
Well, almost complete. Zelda removed her scarf and looped it around their new frosty friend’s neck.
Even with their freezing hands and uncontrollable shivering, they took a moment to admire their handiwork. While the life-sized snowmen they’d built during previous winters looked like white velvet, this one looked as if he were made of translucent crystals, sparkling like diamonds.
With achingly numb fingers, they made their way over to the candles Link had set out earlier, holding their hands out toward a flame that now seemed the size of a small bonfire. Despite the bitterly cold sting that ravaged them as the heat of the fire slowly brought feeling back into their frozen hands, Link and Zelda couldn’t help smiling like playful, carefree children. They had managed to build a snowman even with the scant layer of snow that fate had offered them.
Once their hands were warm, they backed away from the flame and took a seat on the stick. It was now the size of a fallen tree trunk to them, like a thick log just the right height for sitting on. The warm glow of the candles around them and the enormous pine and holly sprigs cast an ambiance even more festive than Link’s living room.
“Pity we don’t have marshmallows,” Zelda said, lightly rubbing her thawed fingers before slipping her gloves back on.
“Wait a minute… we do,” Link said, feeling rather foolish. The bag of marshmallows that he’d stuffed into one of his pants pockets was still there. He reached in and pulled it out, sheepishly showing it to Zelda. “I forgot to set them out on the coffee table for our hot chocolate earlier.”
Zelda smiled with delight, jumping up and running over to one of the pine sprays to pluck a couple of needles from the bunch. Two tiny marshmallows, scarcely bigger than grains of sand, were skewered on the pine needles, and Link and Zelda sat back down on the stick to roast them over the nearest flame.
“What if you’d left normal-sized marshmallows here instead of shrinking them down with us? They’d be as big as our heads!” Zelda said.
“We could try that,” Link suggested with a grin, rotating his pine needle as the marshmallow began to turn golden brown.
Zelda laughed. “How about after lunch? I think eating that much marshmallow on an empty stomach might not go over so well.”
“Are you almost ready for lunch?” Link asked. The effort that he’d put into building their snowman had worked up an appetite.
“Almost, I guess,” Zelda said. “I’m having the time of my life out here, but if we’re coming back after lunch then I guess there’s no need to dawdle.” She pulled her marshmallow away from the fire and blew on it instinctively, as if the surrounding air weren’t already freezing.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Link said, following her example with his own marshmallow.
“One more thing before we go back for lunch,” Zelda said, chewing her warm, gooey marshmallow and looking around at the festive greenery Link had laid down around their bonfire site. She got up and walked over to a fallen holly leaf, still fresh and green and waxy. “We could try sledding!”
There was a gentle incline down toward the brook, and the newly-emerged sun had created a slight sheen on the surface of the snow. With a bit of a running start, Zelda jumped onto the leaf, launching herself into a chaotic skid across the thin icy surface of the snow.
“Watch out!” Link called to her, worried that she’d slide right into the frigid waters of the trickling stream.
But Zelda didn’t make it far before she crashed through the crust of the snow in a powdery burst. As Link ran to her, he realized they were on the frozen surface of a small backwater pool. He reached down and brushed the snow away with his hands, uncovering the sheet of ice beneath. Pressing his foot down on it, first softly and then with increasing pressure, he satisfied himself that it was thick enough to support the negligible weight of Minish-sized people.
“Be careful,” Link said as Zelda got up from her snowbank. “It’s ice underneath. Walk slowly so you don’t slip.”
“Too bad I don’t have a pair of ice skates,” Zelda mused, as she took cautious steps toward Link’s outstretched hand. “I’ve always wanted to try ice skating.”
Link bit his lip as he took her hand. “You ready for lunch now?”
Once they’d climbed up the stump and returned to normal size, Link took a moment to set a marshmallow down near the candles. It would be enormous when they returned after lunch. While he was at it, he grabbed one of the pine stems and used it to brush the snow off of the ice next to the brook.
Zelda watched him curiously, and when he returned to her side to walk back to his house together, she slipped her hand into his as if it were the most natural thing she’d ever done. He tried not to resent the presence of their respective gloves.
Back at Link’s house, he hurriedly threw together a couple of sandwiches. He gave one to Zelda and wolfed down his own as if preoccupied with something, antsy and impatient.
“Is everything all right?” Zelda asked.
Link got up and retrieved the package that was under his Hylia’s Day tree, plopping it down on the dining table in front of Zelda. “I think maybe you should open your gift today after all.”
“Really?” One corner of her mouth lifted into an asymmetrical curve, before bursting into a wide smile that shone like the bright sun emerging from the clouds. So darned cute.
She gripped one end of the red satin ribbon and pulled the bow loose, then slipped her fingers under the edges of the wrapping paper to tear it off. Under the paper was a large shoebox.
Zelda lifted the lid and brushed aside a few sheets of tissue paper and peered into the box, gasping. Ice skates.
She lifted one of them and turned it over in her hands. The blade glinted in the overhead light, revealing Link’s touchmark. “You made these?”
“Well, I had some help,” Link said, ever modest. “Rem made the boots, of course. He assures me he knows your shoe size like his own.”
“Yes. He teases me for single-handedly keeping him in business,” Zelda said. A princess was supposed to always be fashionable, always wearing some exquisite dress for every royal occasion, with perfectly matching shoes. It was a good thing the castle had big closets.
She gingerly placed the skate back in the box and got up to hug Link. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, soft and understated, her voice and her embrace somehow conveying more than ebullience would have as she lingered in his arms a little longer than usual.
“You’re welcome. I hope you’ll forgive me for spoiling the surprise, but I thought maybe we could break them in today down by the brook.”
Zelda smiled giddily. “Yes! Let’s! Do you have a pair of your own? Will you join me?”
“Of course!”
Of course he did, and of course he would. With the cobbler’s help he had also constructed his own pair of ice skates, dreamily envisioning romantic scenes with his princess. The two of them hand-in-hand, gliding gracefully across the frozen surface of Lake Hylia, with the snow-covered trees of the forest forming the backdrop for their wintry ballroom. It was just a fantasy, he knew; there would be no triple lutzes without lots and lots of practice. Still, the thought made him smile.
They returned to the tree stump, their skates dangling by the laces from their fingers, and once again they were diminished to Minish size. They ran over to the backwater pool and sat at its edge to remove their regular winter boots and put on their skates.
With halting, tentative steps they made their way onto the ice. The surface was thin, as clear as glass, offering an unobstructed view of the bottom of the pool. Link knew this view was a rare opportunity; ice thick enough to support the weight of normal-sized Hylians would never be so transparent. He looked down, skating over the clear surface that covered the liquid water at the bottom of the pool, which offered a glimpse of stones and decaying leaves and a single twig of pine with a small cone and needles that were still green, lodged in the muck, trying to float to the top. The view almost made him dizzy, as it was hard to see anything solid supporting his feet.
And then Zelda’s hand was in his again, trembling slightly as a small puff of fog formed in front of her smile when she exhaled shakily. “This is going to take some practice!” she said.
Cautiously they pushed off against tiny bumps on top of the ice, venturing hesitantly farther from the safety of the snowy bank and their bladeless, surefooted boots. A near slip caused Zelda’s hand to release Link’s as she flailed her arms to keep her balance. He reached for her again but she slid away in a fumbling, faltering curve, laughing merrily at her own awkwardness. What she lacked in elegance she made up for in joie de vivre, and this, Link knew, was even better than his daydreams. Far better. Seeing her wide smile and hearing her giggles warmed his heart more than hot chocolate and melting marshmallows.
Just as he was about to catch up with her, she slipped again, falling clumsily onto the ice. Her trivial weight and the padding of her coat made the tumble painless, but nonetheless Link gasped and skated over to her side as quickly as he could without falling.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She laughed mirthfully again and reached out a hand toward him. “Help me up?”
He offered his hand and she took it and pulled him down onto the ice with her, quite deliberately. He landed with a soft plop, half on top of her in a pile of thick winter coats and joyous laughter, foggy breath and rosy cheeks.
“Why you little…” he began, unable to hide his smile as he teased her.
His pretense was cut short when she grabbed his face in her gloved hands and kissed him.
Oh yes, this was definitely better than his daydreams. No number of graceful arcs and elegant pirouettes atop a frozen lake could ever compare to this moment as he sighed against her lips and melted into her embrace.
The wax in the tea lights was starting to run low by the time Link and Zelda had roasted their giant marshmallow. The daylight was also starting to run low; the sun was already sinking toward the western horizon. It seemed way too soon for the day to end, but days were always short this time of year.
Gloves in their pockets, bare fingers dipping into the gooey melted inside of the marshmallow under its crisp golden crust, Link and Zelda snuggled next to each other on the stick next to the candle flame.
“Today has been such a perfect day,” Zelda whispered. “But you know what the best part was?”
“What?” Link asked. He was eager to know what she liked best. Skating? Building a snowman? Throwing ice dust at him? Her questionable attempt at holly-leaf sledding?
Her sticky fingers entwined with his, fitting like perfectly-matched Kinstones and bringing even more joy to his heart than any Kinstone fusion ever did. “Being with you.”
She kissed him again. Her lips were sweeter than marshmallow.
Several weeks later
The statuettes of young Link and Zelda have been moved to the top of Link’s dresser in his bedroom, and a new figurine occupies the mantel in his living room. It was Zelda’s gift to Link for Hylia’s Day, a special piece custom made by Carlov, the figurine sculptor.
The little figure of Link still stares adoringly at Zelda, but now he holds her hand as she returns his loving gaze, standing next to an icy snowman that sparkles like diamonds under his acorn-cupule hat and his pink princess’s scarf and his enormous holly-berry buttons.
The real snowman was eventually lost to the elements, partially melting before being hopelessly buried under deeper snow – the real snow that Zelda had wished for, enabling her to easily pack handfuls into velvety snowballs that she pelted at her best friend… her boyfriend.
But the memory of the day they fell in love will never melt; it is immortalized in the snowman figurine that watches over Link’s house from the place of honor on the mantel and somehow seems to sparkle just a little brighter every time Zelda comes to visit.