Journal 12-88R
The morning of his long-awaited departure has finally arrived. A father’s love and concern for his offspring are never-ending, but the glimmer in his eyes helps ease my apprehension. The Golden Land promises hope for a better tomorrow, so who am I to say otherwise? I will miss our conversations, laughter, and even the occasional disagreement; however, I will especially miss the sweet and somber melody of his flute!
Journal 12-142R
With each passing week, my worry escalates as my emotions violently swing between fear and blame. After all, he developed ambition and desire through careful observation of my every gesture and action. But I must not despair. While aspiration caused me to take a few too many chances during my adolescent years, the same determination also safeguarded me from harm. I take comfort in knowing that the same traits are forever etched into the fabric of his existence. Perhaps I will drop by the local tavern this evening to pass the time.
Journal 12-321R
The tavern has quickly become a daily ritual. The bottle offers a perfect respite for the growing realization that I may never hear my son play his flute again. In addition to my own trepidation, the village is starting to grow restless. Castle soldiers now routinely patrol the streets, and the Hyrule trails are filled with dangerous monsters. This new reality only serves to intensify my doubts and consternation, but I must not lose hope.
Journal 13-47R
Today I happened upon the strangest young lad. Clad entirely in green, the boy looked far too young to enter the tavern unaccompanied. By then several of the regulars were quite inebriated, which is no sight for a juvenile to see. Actually, I was confident that I had seen his face on a “wanted” poster in the village square. I was on the brink of hearkening the bartender to intervene when our eyes met. I was immediately taken aback, for the young fellow’s gaze held the same ambition as my own child. Without hesitation, I regaled the story of my lost son. The boy said nothing as he patiently listened, but in the depths of my heart, I already knew that he would search for my son.
Journal 13-226R
Months passed, and my heart nearly skipped a beat as the boy dressed in green crossed the threshold of the tavern once more. But as our eyes interlocked, his countenance promptly fell. He presented my son’s missing flute, but no words were spoken. None needed to be, for I already knew. We continued to hold each other’s gaze in silence, and I sensed the boy’s empathy. Perhaps he too suppressed the pain of a lost relative. As he turned around to leave, I suggested that he keep the flute and play for the bird who lives near the statue in the village square. Knowing my son’s favorite wildlife companion would aid in his travels, it was the least I could do to repay his kindness.
Journal 13-351R
He did it! I have not the slightest clue or explanation, but the boy clothed in green revived my son, and saved Hyrule. As I basked in the sweet and somber melody of my son’s flute once more, the anxiety and premonition slowly melted away. Kakariko Village might someday forget the boy’s heroic deeds, but the benevolent gestures of my young friend are permanently etched in the pages of my journal.
