When I first touched it, it felt… natural.
As my fingers closed around the hilt, a strange sensation crawled from my hand through my body. I could feel my blood boil with excitement.
The blue leather grip. It felt so familiar, though I have never touched it before. As if it was already worn to my hand like I had used it for ages. Almost as if I was returning to it, as if it were mine long ago, though I have only heard of it in legend.
Folklore.
Fairy tales.
Bedtime stories.
Campfire stories.
Myths.
Nothing any man truly believes, but here it was.
I could see it with my own eyes.
I could feel it with my own hands.
It was waiting for me to retrieve it from its resting place, like it had been I that left it here.
Stone lay beneath where it waited. It appeared to run deep into the ground below. It would not budge easily, I was sure. It would surely take all my strength and more to free.
The challenge provoked me, but I felt as if I had done it before, many times.
The challenge was intimidating, but not frightening.
The sensation in my hands strengthened with the thought of holding it in my hands, freed.
Whatever fear I had brought with me to this place seemed to leave as my eyes found the emblem of the Great Goddesses. Just below the hilt, in gilded gold. Craftsmanship that had no equal must have left it there. It was beautiful beyond compare, and the innocuous atmosphere its sight created was entrancing.
It was no wonder that evil ones fear it so. Would they feel as drawn to it as I? Drawn to its power only to be struck down in its wake? This familiarity I felt inside me was none I had ever felt, but would an evil one feel cowardice of the same strength? Cowardice of touching it? Of it striking them?
Cowardice of its power?
Or the power of its wielder?
My power?
Would they cower in fear of me?
Was I suitable for such prestige? I was but a mere young boy, barely a man, barely came of age. Surely there had to be another more befitting than I.
That was when I saw it again. Just as doubt had crept into my spirit, I saw the emblem of the three goddesses again, but in a different place.
Another sight only heard of in legend. Right in front of me.
On my very hand.
My left.
The very hand which I would use to wield the Sword of Evils' Bane.
The three golden triangles. One shining more brightly than the others. Upon my hand. Inside my body, banishing my fears once again, as they had when I spied it on the blade.
She had chose me?
Farore herself?
Perhaps it was she. The Great Goddess of Courage who was telling me that this blade was meant to strike down the Evil King once more by my hand. No one else's.
So many legends, all true.
It has been said in legend that true Hylians have long ears so we can hear the calls from the heavens, from the gods themselves. There are so few left in Hyrule, the Hyruleans with short ears reigning now, and us Hylians would soon become legends ourselves.
My ears must have heard her calls.
I understood then. Why this place was so familiar. Why the blade before me was already worn to my hand, even having never touched it or been to this place.
The legends, the tales of the hero. The boy who traveled through time and sealed away the King of Evil with the Princess Zelda and the Ancient Sages. Written in many books, but witnessed by no man. The boy who left this land, to return from his travels years later, a man. Hyrule's greatest swordsman. Greatest warrior. The founder of the Hylian Knights. The leader of the finest men in Hyrule.
The man – no – the boy who shamed the evil ones of this land, with no reward gained.
Farore had brought him to this place before.
To take up the blade, now before me, then back to let it rest until it would be needed once more.
But by that time, his time in this realm was no more.
I was to follow him. To continue what he had started. To ensure the King of Evil… Ganondorf was sealed once again.
Would they write legends about my time with the blade?
The thought sounded fitting for a court jester. Absurd, but amusing.
How many scholars would take up their quills to scribe events seen by no one but I?
Countless, no doubt. But it mattered not.
Perhaps they were meant to be stories young ones would fall asleep to. I would tell my son, as he would tell his. My descendants would all hear the tales.
Colin and Ilia as well. They would never tire of stories of my adventures.
My hands called for the blade once more. Yearned to hold it. I remembered the challenge. The one I did not fear.
I braced my boots into the stone pedestal as best as I could muster. Bent my knees to lift with them. As my entire fist closed around the hilt, the sensation gave me strength. The triangles shone more brilliantly than before. As I pulled, the blade rose out with a small flash of light. The ease of it amazed me to no end. My eyes must have been lying to me. It had taken no effort at all to extract. It came out like it had been thrust into bread, not stone.
It felt weightless I my hand. I pointed it towards the heavens, towards Farore, to the sky as the light from the canopy of the grove gleamed off it in a radiant display.
I gripped it tighter and cut through the air in front of me. I smiled as I twirled it between my fingers and sheathed it.
I did not turn back as I left. I would return here only once my task was complete.
When no more was needed of me.
When Farore whispered to my Hylian ears to return and leave the sword for my descendants.
When the land of Hyrule could prosper once more, without the lament of evil ones lurking in the shadows.
When the Princess was safe.
When the Sword of Evils' Bane had done just that.
When the Master Sword would rest once more.
Essay still not done... D: But this is! Thanks for reading. Review please.