When I first attempted a playthrough of Ocarina of Time at the tender age of six, I remember climbing down the ladder of Link’s house to greet Saria and immediately being befuddled by the odd carving at the base of the tree. The etching, crude and amateurish, depicts a tiny stick-figure warrior confronting a ferocious dinosaur-like entity several times his size. When I was a kid, I assumed that every single detail in a video game had an explicit purpose, so I got the gears in my brain turning and pondered the mystery of this drawing in earnest. Did it represent another one of Link’s bizarre dream premonitions? The reptilian appearance of the monster seems to foreshadow his later battle with King Dodongo, though the creature’s upright bipedalism directly contrasts the four-legged movements of the Dodongo species. Or maybe it’s actually a Lizalfos? But then why is it so big compared to Link? And where is its sword? Despite all my best efforts, I never did figure out an answer to this quandary, and as time passed by, I eventually concluded that it was an irrelevant detail and let it go.
But then, 20 years later, I came across a certain art piece by the brilliant Txikimorin, and my childhood musings all rushed back to me, accompanied by a flash of insight. The rudimentary drawing that I had dismissed so long ago now took on a whole new dimension, delivering a surprisingly powerful message about how the grand, idealistic dreams of youth seem so bittersweet when viewed through the sharp lens of adulthood.
For those of you who aren’t yet acquainted with these two, Txikimorin is the joint DeviantArt account for Spanish twin artists Julen and Xabier Urrutia. By the time they decided to branch off to their own profiles on different social media platforms back in 2013, they had well-established reputations as supremely talented artists specializing in dark, visceral, highly detailed action scenes. As far as their Zelda-related work is concerned, they crafted a series of fantastic portraits depicting iconic battles between Link and the bosses of Ocarina of Time, as well as a magnificent painting of Nabooru leading the Gerudo army and a truly nightmarish Gold Skulltula redesign. But the piece I was drawn to is a bit of a departure from their usual work, as our green-clad hero briefly steps away from the violent, cacophonous battlefield and allows himself a moment of quiet reflection.
This piece takes place in the penultimate chapter of Ocarina of Time, when Link, having awakened all five sages, is preparing to infiltrate Ganondorf’s castle and confront the Gerudo king in a face-to-face showdown. Before he takes that final step towards his ultimate destiny, however, he decides to visit his childhood home one last time and take a trip down memory lane by gazing at the old drawing he carved at the base of the tree. The composition of this piece is absolutely stunning, with an exquisite colored pencil aesthetic that captures the sense of warmth and comfort that the Kokiri Forest of Link’s youth offered. Even the smallest details are lovingly rendered here, from the coarse, rugged texture of the tree bark to the individual blades of dazzlingly green grass. The entire setting is just so whimsical, spirited, and picturesque that it took a few beats before the true emotional depth of this deceptively lighthearted work of art began to sink in.
From the time he was brought to the forest as an infant, Link was an outcast among the Kokiri. As the only boy without a fairy, he was bullied and ridiculed by children like Mido, with his only true friends being the wise Great Deku Tree and the compassionate Saria. So in order to cope with this feeling of alienation from his peers, Link may have daydreamed of a future where he could be a hero, defending his brethren from the forces of evil and finally being embraced for who he is as a result. This dream doesn’t start out as rosy as he imagined, as he loses his father figure and becomes a pariah among his people, but being the child that he is, I imagine that Link readily bounced back in the beginning. After all, he was a plucky young boy out on a grand adventure, and when he returned, he would be hailed as a champion and could live out the rest of his days in peace among the Kokiri.
But it isn’t until Link awakens as an adult in the Chamber of Sages that his idyllic vision of life as a hero begins to crumble around him. Having been absent when Ganondorf unleashed his onslaught of evil and sent Hyrule spiraling into chaos, the sobering reality of his kingdom’s grim situation must have hit Link especially hard when he emerged from slumber. And as he ventures through the ravaged land, healing the wounds inflicted on the people and places he loves, Link comes to realize the true cost of achieving his dream: a world in need of a hero is a world that has succumbed to tyranny, violence, and despair. Suffering goes hand-in-hand with redemption, a concept that our brave warrior never could have grasped as an idealistic youth. I think that’s why Link looks so wistful as he reflects upon the simple childhood fantasy etched into the base of the tree. Not only does he long for those innocent days of napping in the golden sunshine and listening to the crickets serenade him at night, but he is also coming to terms with the fact that he can never recapture those moments, even if he returns. Link’s heroic deeds cannot erase the scars left behind by the trauma his people endured, nor can they take away the worldly wisdom he has gained from his trials and tribulations. As bittersweet as it may seem, those seven years of solitude were the last chance Link will ever have to truly be a kid again.
If you’re interested in catching up with the Urrutia twins’ more recent work, you can follow both Xabier and Julen on Art Station!
