It doesn’t matter what people say about me, I know my purpose is to help the flowers of Hyrule to grow big and beautiful. The others can call me “crazy” and “obsessed” all they want. Someone has to fill this harsh kingdom with floral wonder. My flowers, my babies, are all I have. Those naysayers just don’t understand. They can’t understand how much I’ve worked. They can’t hear their precious voices crying out for my protection.
My name is Magda. I’ve been tending to my petaled friends since I was old enough to hold a pair of shears. They’re the only true friends I have in this world. They take care of me, so I protect them.
Bombers’ Notebook is a series where we take a special look at the various and unique characters found in The Legend of Zelda series. From the central figures to the supporting cast, every character has a story to tell and an important part to play. So, take a moment to become acquainted with the wonderful people and creatures that give life and energy to the world of Zelda and learn how they help make each game legendary.
You can ask those disgusting pig-nosed beasts that prowl around the fields of Hyrule. They don’t even try to come to my island garden to cause trouble. They know better. They land one claw on a single petal, and they won’t know what hit them.
I just wish strangers could manage to have the same understanding as the wild beasts. Take that one young man who came by one day to explore the strange shrine at the center of my island. He didn’t say much, but it was clear that he was obsessed with exploring the stonework. And that would have been fine — if he didn’t immediately try to reach it by dashing right through my flowers.
I couldn’t believe it. How could someone be so heartless to the poor, beautiful flowers? It was unbelievable. Unacceptable. Was this boy raised in a barn? Or did he live like a wild animal? Either was believable. Whatever the reason for his soulless behavior, I wasted no time in scolding from stomping on my little ones.
The boy apologized, as he should have, and I hoped that would be the end of it. But I couldn’t get so lucky. He was as determined as he was rude. Rather than leaving me and my plants alone, the boy started to sneak his way through the path I had made. I left that path because I, admittedly, was also curious about the shrine. But as I watched that clumsy kid try his best to be delicate, I knew I had made a mistake. Halfway through the path, the boy once again acted like a brutish Moblin, lost his footing, and planted his foot firmly on another one of my children.
Once again, I let him have it. I let him have it and then some. He came running back when he heard me shout, so at least he clearly knew he was in trouble. But that still doesn’t mean I was going to let him off easy. I gave him the proper scolding befitting a careless child. I thought I made it clear that this was his last warning.
I thought wrong. I watched, with my breath held, as he rushed in to make his third attempt. It went better than the others. I guess he understood to be more cautious. All would be fine if he could make it to the end without harming the flowers. And it seemed like he would make it, until he reached the Chuchus that I forgot were living among my flowers. He attacked them. Why didn’t he run away instead? He started swinging that sword of his around like a wild man, and then it happened: He missed the creatures and viciously slashed the heads off of a dozen of my dear, sweet, defenseless flowers.
That was it.
He came running once again when he heard me scream, but I wasn’t about to hear another apology. He’s just like all the others. They just don’t understand. They don’t. Get it. Always careless. Always disregarding my hard work. They — they don’t care about anyone but themselves. This boy was the worst, and he learned a lesson for all of them. I don’t remember all of the details, but I remember running at him and everything turning red.
When I came to my senses and looked back, there was the boy, flat on his back and groaning like a sick Highland Sheep. I may not have remembered exactly what I did, but I knew that my flowers were now safe and that he, like anyone else who disrespects my flowers, deserved every bit of it.
