Disclaimer: I do not own Zelda…though I wish I owned Link…hehe.

Author's Note: My first Zelink fic! A cross-over between the worlds of Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask. The title, rating, and genre will change as the story progresses.

Link is a humble farm boy, tired of the monotonous days at Romani Ranch and troubled by eerie, almost prophetic nightmares. But one night a beautiful stranger stumbles into his life, a girl who remembers nothing of who she is or where she comes from. Can Link help her regain what she has lost, and find his own destiny in the process? Reviews welcome!

Connected

Chapter 1: The Boy

Ugh, for the love of Nayru, I just went to sleep…

One of these days Link was going to wring that crowing Cucco's neck and slip him into the stew pot. As annoying as the bird was, though, he was also glad that the night would not drag on any longer. The nightmare had troubled his sleep. It was the same one he had been having almost every night:

Darkness covered the field he stood on. Icy rain pelted him and the girl beside him, flattening her flaxen hair against her head and around her face. She took a fighting stance and looked at him questioningly, a silver sword clutched in her gloved hand. Link did not recognize her, but he did recognize fear in her blue eyes as lightning flashed across the stormy sky. In front of them was a great beast like none he had ever seen, a chimera-like shape cloaked in shadow but for a pair of glowing yellow eyes. He could almost feel the evil emanating from it, telling him just how much this animal was capable of: for certain, it was capable of bringing them a torturous death. At the same time he felt something slip into his hand and saw that it was the girl's sword. It bore a distinct marking. Upon closer inspection as he held the weapon out in front of him, the insignia appeared as three golden triangles forming one single triangle. A white light suddenly emanated from it and set the blade aglow. It was then that the great shadow beast charged at them. The girl grabbed his hand and the light from the sword flashed all around them in a blinding veil.

The dream always ended there. No matter what woke him up, the last thing he saw was the light before he found himself sitting up in bed, soaked in a cold sweat. Why did this dream haunt him? If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was a prophecy of some kind.

Ludicrous! He was a ranch hand, not an oracle.

Pushing the dream and the warm wool coverlet aside, the youth dragged himself off the bed. This was one of those mornings when the world felt freezing cold after a night inside a cozy cocoon. He crossed the rough-hewn wood floor to throw open the window shutters. Gone, thankfully, were the stormy skies from his dreams. The heavens here glowed bright pink and orange. Stars were fading one by one. From here he could see the sun's rays reaching above the woods that surrounded the ranch, as if the sun itself were taking a morning stretch.

"About time you hopped out of bed, Grasshopper!" a voice sang out.

Link looked down to see a red-headed girl standing in the yard with pink cheeks and a pail full of milk. She smiled mischievously—and perhaps, due to his lack of a shirt, a little shyly—up at him. Never once did she miss a chance to tease him about one thing or another.

"Do you have to call me that, Romani? Yes, I like to wear green, but I don't patter about anymore when I walk!"

Romani shrugged and started toward the front door of the house. "So what? You'll always be Grasshopper to me."

Link just rolled his eyes. It was too early to think of a snappy comeback, and he was already moody after a rough night. He just dressed quickly: his usual tunic, the same shade of deep green that the goddess Farore had gifted to the nearby forest; the matching elf-like cap over his short crop of golden hair; and faded, dull white trousers tucked into worn brown boots. He trudged downstairs, past the smirking red-haired bane of his existence. Instead he gave a weary smile and a nod to her older sister Cremia, the ranch owner, as he stepped out the door.

Her hands never stopped kneading the bread dough as looked between him and Romani, who stood now at the butter churn. Cremia simply shook her head. Ah, the trials of youth, of lads and ladies. She would not have been surprised if there was some little attraction underneath the battle of the sexes raging in her household.

x-x-x

Gentle, callused farmer's hands led the bay mare from her place in the barn, just as they did every morning. Epona sniffed and shook her head, tossing her snow-white mane.

"Bless you," Link teased.

He proceeded to swing himself up on her saddled back. Just a click of the tongue and she was off and trotting. The cows dispersed immediately, heading out to settle on a spot for the day's graze. Some chose the same patch as yesterday, others elected to wander. The new mothers kept a keen eye on their calves who frolicked among the flowers. Mutoh, the lone bull, stood watch over all of them from a hill near the ranch's front gate. Anybody looking to steal one of his ladies would have a tough fight on their hands with the horned animal. Those shifty Gorman brothers at the neighboring ranch would do well to stay away.

All Link could do as he surveyed the land was give a sigh. This was the world he had known since before he could remember. The family who owned Romani Ranch felt like his own. After all, he had none to compare them to. He had almost no memory of his parents. All he knew was that they were dear friends of Zedron and Romola, the owners of Romani Ranch. When the boy lost his family to the plague, the two milk farmers were more than willing to take him in and raise him alongside their two daughters, Cremia and Romani. The girls were as close to him as sisters. He and Romani, who certainly fought like brother and sister, were the about the same age. When the older, sweet-natured Cremia inherited the ranch upon their parents' death three years ago, she became their surrogate mother, as well. However, to Link, she was also a lady, to whom he was not truly related by blood. He had come of age around that time. At fourteen, convention saw him as a man. As such, he took on a slightly more respectful manner toward the lady of the house. He may have been the man of the house, but he knew who really ran things here.

Romani was another story. From their earliest days, he was Grasshopper to her, for his pattering walk and his green clothes. He disliked the name, but no amount of protest could dissuade her from its use. All he did in that case was shake his head and ignore her when the name reached his large, pointed ears. Whenever she teased and bullied him, he would either ignore her or, on a rare occasion, fight right back with words just as biting. Once in a while the thought crossed his mind that she was just putting on an act, that perhaps in truth she fancied him. Immediately he would dismiss it as ridiculous, if for no other reason than that he did not reciprocate it. She was his surrogate sister, nothing more.

Though he called them family, a small hollow spot remained in Link's heart. It wasn't so much that his birth family had died and left it there. He just always had the nagging feeling that his life should have more purpose than what he saw and contributed in this place. Why else would he be dreaming about swordfights and girls he had never met and monsters the likes of which he had never beheld? Were these dreams of his truly trying to tell him something?

Scattering these thoughts like a flock of Cuccos, he took Epona for a canter around the entire circumference of the ranch to clear his head and survey his progress with the animals. The cows were all settling down to their breakfast. Now it was time for Link and Epona to have theirs. Satisfied that the cows weren't going anywhere, he took his equine friend back to the barn to fill her trough. She eagerly tucked into her hay and oats, while Link headed up to the house for almost the same meal, but in a more processed form. He could already smell Cremia's bread, fresh-baked in the hearth to enjoy with their warm bowls of porridge.

x-x-x

Sunset would have been a beautiful sight were it not for the immense, dark gray clouds gathering on the horizon. A storm was brewing for sure. Even now, Link's ears picked up the faint roll of thunder. Good thing the cows were not as fussy this evening about coming back to the barn; simple-minded though they seemed at times, they had instinct, knowing enough that they did not want to get rained on. Link gave each a gentle pat on the back as they paraded through the barn doors, where inside Romani guided them into their stalls. The marked ears on some of them indicated the mothers, and she made sure each calf was with its own.

But one mother was all out of sorts, and the reason was clear.

"Link, one of the calves is missing!"

He turned in the direction of Romani's urgent voice, and indeed, he saw that the cow she was trying to calm was a mother without her young by her side. His eyes conducted a rapid survey of the quickly darkening field. The wind was picking up, whipping his hair across his eyes. He pushed it away in time to see a little white shape running up the hill into the woods. Oh no…

Without a word he dashed into the house past a startled Cremia, grabbed his cloak from upstairs and ran back out the door; the rain would catch up to him for sure before he got the calf home, he would need to keep it warm and dry on the way back.

He made his way into the woods, making note of where to turn to find his way out again, whistling the little song that Romani had taught him to call the animals. Where was that calf? He had to get it home fast. After another whistle, his ears pricked at the movement of whispering leaves and brush. The rustling sounded especially close by, but it was too loud to be something as small as the calf.

Link saw a shape approaching through the bushes. The gathering dark kept it in shadow. Link had not thought to bring the bow and arrows with which he had honed his skill over the years. Instead, he drew the small knife from inside his left boot; he always knew he would need it for something. If necessary he would protect himself and the little calf. He held his breath, and the figure came into view.

It was a human...a girl stumbling through the brush.