Farro wakes up instantly, his heart racing, his breath quick. He tries to be as silent as possible, though, and pretend to be asleep, as he opens his eyes just a little bit.

That little bit is enough to remind him that he is not in danger and that he is in fact in his room and nothing bad is happening. It was just a dream. ...an incredibly vivid, detailed dream. Which left him with an incredibly vivid, detailed face in his brain. His visual imagination is nowhere near this good, he does not remember people's faces with this much detail, what right does a dream have to be more vivid than that?

He sits up and looks around. What time even is it?

It's not heinously early, the sky is starting to lighten outside his window, but no one else is likely to be awake. Except the Great Deku Tree, of course.

...yeah, okay. He slips into his tunic and gingerly steps outside, quietly, following the path he knows in large part by muscle memory by now to the Great Deku Tree.

Sometimes Mido stands at the entrance to the little valley that leads into the Tree's domain, and challenges anyone with the temerity to... want to talk to the Tree, even though that honestly doesn't seem very temerous to anyone else. Mostly it's just Mido being kind of a dick and wanting an excuse to wrestle people. This early in the morning, though, Mido isn't up, so the path in is clear.

The Great Deku Tree stands, grand and towering, in a meadow within a crater so vast that even his own massive roots do not reach the sides. No one knows what made that crater; some of the Kokiri have asked the Tree, but he says that some things are the remit of the old, that eternal children shouldn't worry themselves with this grim thing. (It's one of the only things he flatly refuses to discuss, and most of the Kokiri agree that he's probably got his reasons.)

"Ah, Farro," he creaks. "It is good of you to visit, in the dull hours when this old mind wanders... though you are not often the earliest of your compatriots to rise, are you?"

"No."

...he scoots over to the tree, looks around to make sure there are no other kokiri watching, then sits on the ground and hugs his knees. "I had a bad dream."

"Ah." A low branch droops to stroke through Farro's hair. "It must have been very terrible to frighten you, Farro; you have your namesake's courage in such abundance."

"...it's... It just felt so real. There was this girl, and this horse, and this—flute—I don't know—and this man—and now I can think of—I know what he looks like. More than I know what I look like."

The Great Deku Tree is silent for a moment.

"Some say," he creaks, "that every dream has a grain of truth. I do not believe it to be so, not for every dream; but some dreams are sent by the gods, and I know this to be so. And such dreams are never easy to forget..."

There's a rustling in the branches above, and a flute like the one he saw in the dream drops from the Tree's canopy. (It's not the one from the dream. That one was carved from blue stone, patches of it glossy and other parts matte with heavy use; this is wood-carved, polished to an even shine. But they are the same instrument.)

"I have long thought that you should learn to make music," he says, a blatant non sequitur. "Would you play a few notes on that ocarina, and tell me if the sound of it pleases you?"

He blinks, and reaches out to grab it. "Ocarina," he repeats. "The one from the dream was blue and stone." He closes his eyes and brings it up to his lips to try to figure out what each hole... does. Even as he kind of feels like he already knows.

There's a song his fingertips reach for. It's a simple enough tune, one-two-three one-two-three, the kind you might hum to put a baby to sleep; as the tones emerge, he imagines the girl from his dream.

(She's walking with him through a garden, talking back and forth, and they pass by a rill that trickles over the edge of the island and spills into the clouds below. She's crying on his shoulder, miserable and helpless and so furious about it she can't hold the tears back. He's holding a sword, and there's blue fire in her hands, and they have each other's backs as the monsters close in.)

He gasps and drops the flute, then stares at it, blinking rapidly.

The Tree rustles. "A soothing tune. But not one that comforts you?"

"I... saw the girl again. In my head." He grabs the ocarina once more and tries playing the tune again.

Similar memories rise to the surface. They're very specific, each of them a moment in time, but none of them holds the information he really wants. He doesn't remember what they spoke of along the riverbank, or where they were when she cried, or for that matter her name - but he remembers her laugh, bright and sweet, he remembers the wicked smile when they planned a petty revenge on Groose (who Groose is he does not recall), and he remembers the ferocity with which she demanded his oath to keep fighting alongside her, no matter how long it took them to make things right.

He doesn't drop the flute this time, and keeps playing it and... watching. Watching the not-memories, the images in his head, trying to make sense of them. This is freaky shit but it's cool freaky shit and without the terrifying dude in armour it is a lot more enjoyable to experience.

The Deku Tree doesn't interrupt him for a good several minutes of his song. It's long enough that he starts feeling tired, though - he's not sleepy, he just woke up, but either playing the flute is harder work than he thought or whatever magic he's doing is the kind that takes sustained effort. Not a ton of it. Just, enough to leave him out of breath. Which is really inconvenient when you're playing a wind instrument, as it turns out?

No he's gonna KEEP DOING IT the visions are COOL who cares about his mortal form what's an self care

Really? He's starting to get pretty dizzy.

Bodies are for weaklings.

Well, in support of this theory, he does feel like he's floating out of his own skin. The world goes blurry, the conjured memories sharper than the Tree in front of him; then the ocarina slips from his fingers, and the visions stop, but his sight doesn't come back, because he is unconscious.

When he wakes up, he's got a miserable headache, and Saria is standing over him, looking curiously into his eyes.

"...ow," he whines, trying to sit back up and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Saria settles back on her heels. "I heard Fado say," she says conversationally, "that if you looked in the eyes of someone who died while having a vision, you could see it yourself. But your eyes looked the same as ever, so either you're not dead or she was wrong."

"Dead people don't say 'ow'," he replies, still squeezing his eyes shut. "—wait how did you know I was having a vision?"

"Well, I heard the song you were playing," she says. "It was very pretty. And then it stopped, and I came to check what had happened - and the Tree told me that you'd had a vision, and chased it until your magic ran out. Which is silly, by the way, you shouldn't do that. If you pace yourself properly, you can do magic until you pass out from hunger, instead of magic drain."

"...your words intrigue me and I wish to hear more of them," he says, opening his eyes for a second and immediately regretting it then shutting them again.

"Oh, lovely," she says, clapping her hands. "I never have anyone to discuss magic with, not really - anyway you need a song, which it sounds like you have, and an instrument ditto."

"What you need to do is stop trying so hard. The song's already there! You don't need to pull on it! Just play, and let it flow like it wants to, and if you start feeling tired for goodness' sake stop until it passes."

"I have no idea what that means. And I didn't notice I was getting tired I got distracted."

Saria goes to say something, then stops, then tries to say something else, then makes an annoyed sound.

"Talking is hard," she complains. "Play this."

She pulls out her own ocarina and demonstrates a simple, jaunty, dance-y tune - da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da - then motions for Farro to play along.

O...kay? He can do that. Trying new things is good. What happens?

He's falling sideways for a moment - it's a sharp, disorienting lurch, not the gentle pull of the song from earlier - and then he feels Saria holding his... something? He feels Saria, anyway, close and looking at him with the same vague, happy smile she so often has.

Oh, good. (Her voice sounds strange, sort of like when she wanted to try talking with both of them underwater.) Now we can communicate properly. Also, yay, that song worked. It wasn't going to melt your brain or anything but let me know if you start hearing colors.

"...what? Hearing colours?"

What's, uh, happening.

It probably won't happen!

He's hearing Saria talking, but at the same time, he isn't. Words in the Hylian language don't have half a dozen layers of meaning, don't convey exactly what the other person means. When she says "probably", he knows exactly how likely it is that he'll have synesthetic side effects - not in numbers, not a percentage chance, because Saria doesn't have a percentage chance, but he knows what she means. It probably won't happen! There's only a small chance! It's maybe larger than the chance he would call "small", but it's exactly what Saria would call "small", and that's why she said it, and he knows that.

Also, he's floating in a void where the only thing that exists is Saria and the conversation between them.

Should I explain what I was going to explain, or do you have questions about this song first?

(She's not impatient to get to the magic training. She'd love to hear if he has questions about this song. But she's also happy to just teach him, which was the whole point of all this.)

"I don't know what to ask. Just explain?"

Right!

She guides him through the mental motions of performing magic music sustainably. In a lot of ways it's easier than doing it the way he was; the trick, as it turns out, is to maintain an even, steady trickle of magic through the song, rather than letting it surge and ebb with the music itself.

None of this really applies to the song that put you in mental contact with me, Saria mentions idly. You're not still playing it, you're just lying on the ground unconscious. I designed it to take its operational magic from me no matter who plays it. So don't teach it to just anyone!

"You designed it." Undertones: that's impressive and he wants to learn how to design magic songs that let people communicate telepathically-or-something! ...and maybe some other kinds.

Songs are hard to invent! It takes decades. I'd love to teach you! ...becoming a proper sorcerer is beyond either of us, though. Kokiri don't have a lot of weight to throw around. Hylians, yes. Gerudo, yes. Even humans. But we wanted forever, and so we sacrificed tomorrow.

(Context fairy says: Puberty. She's talking about how Kokiri, the immortal children of the forest, don't go through puberty, which increases one's magic reserves to the point of usefulness instead of just letting you fuel a tiny little song-spell. And she's being very dramatic about it, as is her wont.)

"...oh."

(That sucks. He wants to do more magic!!! Like this is cool don't get him wrong but proper sorcerer, that sounds so cool.)

Anyway, even if we can't have you tossing lightning and fire around, I'll be happy to teach you more... probably we should wake up, though. I think Mido's coming.

"What do I care, if he sees us passed out in front of the tree what's he gonna do, kick us?"

(He means literally exactly those words.)

Yeah, no, he is in fact being kicked. Lightly, as yet.

Sure he can take a beating that's fine.

"Was there anything else you meant to teach me 'cause if not I think I might have thought of questions."

Farro, you are a beautiful soul unlike any other in this world, and it would pain me to see you beaten to death by my dear friend Mido just because you could not wait an hour for your next magic lesson. Remember, we have forever.

It's not an uncommon refrain among the Kokiri.

"If I get up and kick his ass will you teach me more stuff?"

...yes, probably. It would be funny.

"Great cool."

Is it obvious how he wakes up, he needs to kick a child's ass.

It's quite straightforward!

Mido's in the middle of winding up for a harder kick when Farro's eyes open. "Oh, good. The Great Deku Tree said you were okay, but it's my job to keep us safe and that means checking."

"...I would have stopped him before he broke any bones," the Deku Tree mentions.

"Hey Mido, Saria told me she'd teach me magic if I kicked your ass."

"What?! No she didn't!"

"No, I did," she says, sitting up against the trunk of the Deku Tree. "To be clear, I'll teach him magic anyway, but this way is funnier."

"He doesn't even have a sword!!!"

Well can Farro use this moment of Mido's surprise to relieve him of his sword, then?

Farro now has one (1) wooden blade!

"Hey!!!!" Mido picks up a sturdy stick. "You wanna fight so bad, fine, but Saria, you'd better be ready to heal him when I'm done!"

A little green spark flits out from under his hat and wobbles over to Saria. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asks.

Saria's own fairy emerges from her hair in turn. "They need this," he tinkles, with a shower of blue sparks. "Good for boys to let it out. Especially when one of them doesn't even have a – well."

"Don't be rude," Saria murmurs. "You'll distract me from the boys hitting each other."

Yes yes rub it in why don'tcha.

He's not gonna give Mido time to get prepared though. Hyaah!

Mido's is an excellent sword. He whittles himself a new one every ten years, varnishes it with oils that won't chip off or get stained, cares for it like some Kokiri care for their pet birds or lizards (or, in Fado's case, Stalfos). It's so well-kept that it's sometimes hard to remember that he uses it, doesn't just wrestle with the others but fights like a real warrior.

But the sword isn't what makes him a warrior. It's the skill. And if all he has is a stick, he can still fight like he's the one with the sword.

...well, the result is overdetermined, then, isn't it? Farro and Mido are both good fighters, at least for twelve-year-olds, but Farro's been twelve for less than a year while Mido's been twelve for... substantially longer than that.

It is. But Mido is, for all his faults, a gracious winner. He doesn't toy with Farro, any more than he needs to if he wants to leave him intact. Farro's on the ground, stick at his throat, inside a minute.

"You are getting better," he notes, retracting the stick and reaching out his hand. "And you'll be bigger than me when you stop growing. You just need patience."

He just needs to get better is what he needs, grumble grumble. "Fine, I yield."

Saria pops over and taps him with a bit of healing. "Well, we can go back to magic now, at least!"

"In truth," the Great Deku Tree interrupts, "I need to speak with Farro alone. Mido, Saria, would you leave us?"

"Oh! Yes, I'll go collect some water-fairies!" She wanders off, humming.

Mido looks uncomfortable, but trails after her.