Ingo's Story (M-ish)
I wrote this story for a Zelda fanfiction contest. I need to submit it by the end of August. I figured I would post it here first and see what people think. After I submit it and find out the results (which will happen around September 15th), I'll be posting this story on fanfiction.net with the rest of my stories. So, please let me know what you all think!
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He trudged silently along, hauling the bag of feed behind him. He knew that there might be a small hole in the bottom of the bag, and that the feed might be slowly spilling out of it. But how else was he supposed to carry it? After all, if he pulled it up and carried it in his arms, it would leak. If he slung it over his shoulder, it would leak. And the other side of the bag was open; if he flipped the bag over to keep feed from leaking out the little hole, all of the feed would just pour out anyway.
And so Ingo dragged it behind him.
Besides, it didn’t matter how he carried it. He was always paid the same amount of money every month, regardless of the quality of his work. If he had sewn up that tiny hole, he’d get paid the same as if he didn’t. And if he spilled feed everywhere intentionally, but claimed it was an accident, his pay wouldn’t suffer, even if there was no way it could have been an accident.
But pay wasn’t why he worked. Sure, he could have gone to the castle and worked at the stables there. He’d heard they were practically paved with gold, and that there was never even a stray straw on the floor. Of course, he saw that as incentive not to work there. After all, when you work with horses and other barn animals, hay gets everywhere. That’s how it’s supposed to be. And besides, that job was better for neat freaks. He wasn’t a neat freak; he was an old-fashioned man.
Ingo did his job, though, and he did it well. Whether he did it with pride, though, was up for debate, even within his own head. The only satisfaction he got from a job well done was that it made him feel even more deserving of ownership of the whole place. It was not as if the actual owner did any work.
He and Talon had been best friends for what felt like centuries. They’d been raised in Kakariko in neighboring houses, and they’d stuck together like glue. And when they were old enough to work, they were both hired by the most esteemed stable in town.
But then, Miss Marin came. She swept into town one balmy afternoon with her mother, the owner of the most famous and well-to-do ranch anywhere in the provinces. Just eighteen and more beautiful than the young Queen herself, Miss Marin smiled herself into the hearts of every eligible man in town (and some not as eligible).
Offers were made and rejected every time Miss Marin accompanied her mother to Kakariko to sell milk, eggs, and wool, or every time any young man traveled to the ranch to purchased one of the finest horses money could buy. “I’m waiting,” she would say. For what? That, she wouldn’t.
Ingo and Talon had fallen hard for her, but they had both agreed not to lose their friendship over her. How could she even be interested in either of them? The would lament their physical and personal short-comings to each other as they sat at the bar on their nights off. They would watch the men she smiled at and try to figure out just why he got that smile.
One week, when Miss Marin visited the stables where they both worked, and smiled beautifully in their direction, they decided that perhaps they should just ask her out. After all, they could have it over and done with it, and then move on in their lives and each settle down with someone else. Their pact made, Ingo gave Talon the go-ahead to ask her first. After all, he thought, Talon is short and overweight. He’s a great friend, but Miss Marin couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like him.
But, alas, she was. After a year of dating and a short engagement, Miss Marin and Talon were married. And she whisked him off to the ranch, which she now owned, so they could together bring milk, eggs, wool, and horses to Hyrule.
Ingo continued to work in Kakariko, eventually rising up to the position of manager of the very famous and first-class stables. And during those years, Miss Marin and Talon had a little daughter named Malon, and when Miss Marin’s mother died, the ranch was renamed Lon Lon Ranch. When asked why, Miss Marin replied that the name embodied the two people most important to her. And everyone sighed at the wonderful sentiment. He simply rolled his eyes.
Talon was leading Ingo’s life, it seemed, the life he wanted. It was not that his job in Kakariko was so terrible. But he had so badly wanted to live with Miss Marin, out on her famous ranch. It was his family that should have been living there. And he had messed it all up by letting Talon ask Miss Marin out first. He’d been too arrogant to believe that Talon might have sparked love in Miss Marin’s heart.
He’d visit the ranch every so often. After all, he and Talon were still friends. Perhaps they weren’t as close friends as they used to be, but friendships are strange creatures that often refuse to die. And so he would visit every month or two. He’d get grand tours of the property, he’d get to ride the beautiful horses, and he’d watch little Malon grow up into a strong and curious child.
And then he would go home, back to his large but largely empty room he rented in an inn nearby the stable, and he would lie despondent as he thought about the family and life he did not have. And the years flew by, although they seemed lengthy to him.
He continued to visit, even though it was a blow to his pride. Here was his best friend, happily married with a child, co-owning the most successful business in history. It was a constant reminder that if he had asked to go first, perhaps this could have been his. And Talon would have been the eternal bachelor, unable to get even a first day with anyone, working a job that left him unsatisfied.
And then, one day, a shocking rumor spread through Kakariko, as well as through all of Hyrule. It was one of those rumors that no one believes could be true. And then the details got around, and then the funeral. Soon, the rumor wasn’t a rumor, but simple fact: Miss Marin had died.
But while people were shocked at the news of her death, no one was shocked at the cause. She died in the only way that would have made sense. No one would have believed it if she had died of old age in her sleep, nor could anyone possibly think that she could contract a fatal illness.
Miss Marin had been riding a skittish young mare around Hyrule Field when a peahat startled the horse. Miss Marin didn’t even have time to calm the horse down and escape. Instead, she, a gifted rider, had tried to leap from the saddle. The goal had been for the horse and rider to run away separately, which would have at least made the peahat pause while considering which one was responsible for disturbing it. But Miss Marin had improperly gauged the mare’s reaction, and instead of leaping and landing on her feet, she slipped and landed on her neck.
Being a good friend, Ingo packed his bags after the funeral to stay with Talon and his daughter until they could get back on their feet. But Talon, it seemed, could not get back on his feet. Grief led him to sleep entire days away, and to drink away his nights. Malon, only eight, was incapable of doing all of the ranch work herself (although, Goddesses bless her, she tried to). And so Ingo sent for the rest of his belongings, resigned from his managerial position, sent his land lady his final month’s rent, and moved into the spare bedroom in Talon’s house.
Through the strength of a failing friendship and a little girl’s determination, Ingo and Malon pulled the ranch back from the depths. Although Miss Marin had managed her money well, Talon hadn’t absorbed her practicality. And the drunken stupor didn’t help much either. Talon picked poor horses from stables. He made bad deals for cows. He didn’t understand how to plant a vegetable garden. And so his friend and his daughter did the work for him, hoping that maybe in a few months, Talon would be ready to learn how to manage the place himself.
Years later, very little had changed. Malon had a knack for understanding animals, and so she gently took over those bargains. Meanwhile, he, the great Ingo, was in charge of the rest of the ranch. It was up to him to make sure that he rotated the vegetable garden appropriately every year, and kept everything watered. It was up to him to feed the cuccos and to collect the eggs. It was up to him to muck the stables, to repaint buildings, to pick up deliveries of hay and other supplies. It was up to him to buy new equipment.
It was Malon that began to reimburse him. Since the ranch hadn’t been nearly as successful since Miss Marin passed away, she couldn’t pay him much. But since the ranch never picked up well enough for him to have a raise, Malon made it a point never to lower his wage either. Thus, he could spill as much feed as he wanted to. But he didn’t want to spill much. Malon didn’t have much more money than he did; she was, after all, still a little girl.
In fact, Malon seemed just as lonely. She had made a friend once, when she was very little. She had encouraged Talon to make a delivery to the castle, and both she and Ingo hoped that the trip would help Talon get back into gear. But he had passed out after making the delivery, and a small boy had helped sneak into the courtyard to wake him up. While the excursion itself was ultimately worthless (as Talon went right back to drinking, sleeping and refusing to work when he got home), the little boy came by a few more times to check in on things.
His name was Link, and he seemed too serious for his age. But Malon was happy to have a friend, and Ingo finally had someone besides Malon to complain to. Link was quiet, but he understood the situation: things at the ranch weren’t so peachy.
But after a while, he stopped coming to visit. Malon’s horse, Epona, then began to get agitated, and Talon worsened. In fact, the sky itself seemed to grow darker, even when it was sunny and cloudless.
And then the skeletons came.
They were like the bulkiest and most brutish of soldiers, except they had no flesh on their bones. They announced that the ranch now belonged to the Great King Ganondorf, a name Ingo had heard only a few times before. Now, according to these skeleton soldiers, the King would decide how much Lon Lon produce could be distributed, and to whom. And the horses were to be trained only for Ganondorf, as war steeds. And Malon and Ingo stood, dumbfounded, as they were told that disobedience would result in death.
None of the undead soldiers had seen Talon. None of them even knew he existed. And so that evening, as a few skeletal guards paced outside, Ingo and Malon decided that they were trapped, but that Talon could escape. He was certainly too depressed and drunk to escape on his own, but he could be hidden until a time presented itself. And so the two of them hid the grieving widower in the attic. Talon’s only responsibility was to keep silent at all times.
For a long time, there was no window of opportunity. And that wasn’t all. There was no money. There was hardly any food. There was nothing except the threat of death and the constant fear that Talon would be discovered.
Sometimes, the ranch would have oblivious visitors. Whenever this occurred, the skeletons would hide themselves, but whenever the visitors were distracted or out of sight, the guards would whisper death threats into Ingo and Malon’s ears. And Ingo would try to get a little money from each visitor, which he would use to try to get a little extra food when he was allowed to go to Kakariko to sell produce. The money made from the produce, of course, went to the skeletons, who in turn supposedly gave it to Ganondorf.
It was on one of these trips to Kakariko, almost a year after the ranch was overtaken, that Talon escaped. The lack of alcohol on the ranch had helped him regain his wits somewhat, and he was able to hide in the cart while Malon innocently distracted the guards. But the triumph of setting Talon free was ruined when Ingo returned to find that the guards had molested the eleven-year-old Malon. But there was nothing he could do to protect her; they would threaten to kill her if he didn’t go to Kakariko when they said to, and when he’d leave, the abuse began.
The years crawled by. Every time Ingo visited Kakariko, he would have someone pass the news on to Talon that Malon was still alive. Every week or so, this terrible routine would play itself out, and every time it did, Malon would suffer every minute that Ingo was gone.
Molestation continued and worsened until Malon would start to admit that she was thinking of suicide. Ingo insisted that things would turn out all right, and that someone would stand up to the tyrant and end the nightmare. And they waited for that someone, and that someone never came.
One day, an unfamiliar young man stopped by the ranch. The skeletons hid, as usual, knowing that Malon and Ingo wouldn’t rat them out. And as usual, they did not. Instead, the stranger made conversation with Malon for a bit, and then spoke pleasantly with Ingo.
He expressed interest in Epona, Malon’s beautiful mare who was being sent off to Ganondorf the next day. Looking for whatever rupees he could get out of this poor stranger, Ingo offered him a ride. He slipped the ten rupees in his pocket (enough for maybe a dozen eggs and a small bottle of milk) and led the visitor into the corral.
But the strangest thing occurred; whereas Epona never listened to anyone except Malon, she was now allowing the young man to ride her, and well, too. And when he dismounted and thanked Ingo for the ride, the mare continued to follow him. When he tried to leave the ranch, Epona tried to leave, too.
When it became apparent that Epona was trying to leave, the man offered to buy her. At first Ingo refused; after all, Ganondorf would most likely have him and Malon murdered if the gave away his intended horse. But when the man upped the price ridiculously, Malon carefully tugged on Ingo’s sleeve. Without her speaking, he knew that she was asking him to let the man buy Epona. They would deal with the consequences later, but at least Epona would be out of Ganondorf’s clutches. And so he sold Epona to the young man.
Before the rupees had passed hands, the skeletons made their presence known. But far from being shocked or even surprised, the young man pulled out an impressive long sword and proceeded to destroy each guard in a manner of seconds.
It took a few moments for Ingo to register that he was perhaps free. It took less time, though, for Malon to recognize the young man as her old friend Link, who had disappeared long ago. And so, now that they could partake of their own produce without paying for it, Malon and Ingo invited Link to join them for dinner, where they shared stories of their past seven years.
Link left the next morning, stating that he had business in Kakariko, but that he would visit soon. And so it was Link that they were waiting for when Talon arrived home a few days later.
Talon had nearly drunk himself to death in the six years he’d been in Kakariko, working at the very same stable that Ingo had been manager of. But now that he could be with his family again, he said, he would try harder.
And he did. The ranch once again began to flourish, although Epona was gone (Link had, after all, purchased her fair and square; Malon thought it was a small price to pay for freedom). And Link did visit, as promised, and often. He and Malon bonded over their lost childhoods, he and Talon discussed how their lives had been changed by this evil Ganondorf, and he and Ingo found common ground when they both admitted that their jobs were thankless ones. And so when Link left, destroyed Ganondorf, and forever disappeared himself, Lon Lon Ranch was a happy enough place that the three inhabitants found solace in each other.
And for Ingo, his dream had finally been realized. He was now living on Lon Lon Ranch, the most famous ranch in the provinces, with his best friend working by his side. And although he was several years her elder, he and Malon had found comfort together after their years of isolation, and so while Ingo never married the beautiful Miss Marin, he did marry her equally beautiful and even more vivacious daughter.
Of course, now that he had to pay for the feed, he tried to spill it less.
08-02-2008, 09:35 PM
It's sad, but it fits all too perfectly with his actions in the game.
