A Hero's Journey, a legend of zelda fanfic

Warnings: None. Rated PG-13, maybe, for minor cussing and .

Timeline: pre- tLoZ to post ZII:AoL. Link's age in this varies from section to section, starting at about 6 and ending at 17, though most is staged from 14 to 16. The stories are staged chronologically.

A/N: Ok, so this is a series of drabbles and snippets that have been chewing on the back of my head for the last few weeks, and I finally decided to set some of them down. It's part of my current LoZ 'verse, belonging to the same timeline as "Developments", "A Family Reunion", and "Wordplay". This one takes place before any of them, and will be kind of a journal of Link's life prior to coming to Hyrule, and of the first few years there. There are Author Notes scattered throughout; whenever you find one, it'll be relevant to the section set above it. LEFT-hand "--" marks are section dividers between themed entries, while CENTERED "--" marks are used to sub-divide a section, in order to indicate a vignette, or the commencement of notes for that section. Critique to your heart's content!

"Names"

"Linkshaia"... difficult to pronounce, difficult to write. So, you'd think it'd be difficult to make fun of, but, no... Of all the names his mother could have chosen, WHY had she picked something belonging to some long-abandoned battle deity? And, why, oh WHY had he had the misfortune to draw the ONE teacher in all Ciella who actually knew what the word meant? From the moment she'd read the name in the class roster, her eyes had lit up. And from the moment she'd felt compelled to share with the class what was so special about "Linkshaia", he'd been dodging bullies. After all, who can resist the appeal of bragging to their friends, "Hey, I beat-up a war god!" The third time Link showed up at home with bruises, his mother tactfully suggested that he might want to learn to fight back... or, at least, to run faster. At first, he'd been all for the running, but today, when a girl from the lower grade-level joined in the pummeling, he'd had a change of heart. 'Time for this war god to take up arms.'

A/N: "Linkshaia": full, proper name for the boy commonly referred to as Link.

"Communication"

They were never apart for long: they went to school together, did their homework and chores together, had the same friends, slept in the same room (sometimes, the same bed, if the dreams were bad, or they fell asleep talking), and even (sometimes) bathed together (when they overslept and were running late for class or Church). He supposed it was only natural; after all, they'd been BORN within mere minutes of each other. And although there WERE differences (gender, personality, and talents), they shared everything else, from secrets to toys to the tail-end of their sentences.

She read his mind and face and body language like a book; a solitary glance was often all it took for them to know EXACTLY how the other was feeling, and appropriately laugh at the unspoken joke, or offer each other a consoling hand to grasp.

Sometimes, they swore they could feel echoes of what the other was feeling -- when Link fractured an ankle falling off their tree-fort, Lydia limped for a week; when Lydia had her menses, Link was cranky, the first two days. It was an inconvenience, at times, but it certainly had its up-side: because of this bond, Link rarely actually NEEDED to speak -- which was good, because he was terribly awkward with words. He wasn't shy! He just liked to think really carefully before opening his mouth (except for Rhythmic Poetry -- he could rhyme ANYONE under the table, in two minutes, flat!) This lag-time in his responses sometimes led people to believe he was dumb; he didn't like that. And so, he kept mostly quiet, preferring to let his more loquacious sister do the bulk of the talking.

Though a rare occurrence, when he DID speak, his friends listened. Because, when he spoke, one of two things happened: problems got solved, or great pranks were hatched. And whatever plans he cooked-up, Lydia was MORE than happy to expand upon -- he was the artist, but SHE was the engineer, and their buddies were more than happy to be the workforce, since ALL shared equally in the glory. It was a good arrangement!

A/N: "Rhythmic Poetry": word game popular among adolescents raised in Link's homeland, Calatia. To envision, think "Yo Momma" meets rap. The rules? First to wince, stutter, or draw a blank, loses.

"Crime & Punishment"

Three hours. He'd been stuck up here... THREE... HOURS. Above his bed. Pressed against the ceiling. Upside-down. Three. Hours. 'Thrice-damned Magic...' He'd learned two things, today: 1) his sister's a MUCH more powerful mage than he'd given her credit for, and 2) he'd have to be MUCH more careful, from now on, when trying to sneak a peak at her diary.

"Voice"

He sang at Church every Sabbath, his normally quiet facade voluntarily put aside for those two hours every week when he let his voice be heard, sweet and clear and surprisingly strong, as though he'd been saving his vocal chords just for this. In a way, this WAS accurate: he liked to think his near-mutism made those two hours of sound all the more powerful, his gift to the Goddesses more profound by virtue of its rarity. His sister and mother and father could speak for him, all the other days; THIS day was between him and The Three.

"A Gift"

"This way, we'll always be in touch!", she says.

Lydia handed her twin brother a small box. Inside were two blue-metal hoop earrings, of which she immediately grabbed one and fit it through her lobe.

"Just get yourself pierced, when you get to Hyrule. See? You press down on the front, and..." she demonstrated, her own earring emitting a soft clicking noise. The other hoop, in Link's curious hand, suddenly lit up and chirruped in a digitized sound sequence.

"Press it!", she giggled.

He did as instructed, and brought it close to his face, for inspection. Suddenly, his sister's voice came through the small adornment, "Guess who?"

Awed, he peered at Lydia, sitting beside him, who was whispering VERY quietly, hand covering her mouth. He could barely make out that she's speaking at all, though she was right there, but the earring carried her words, unhindered.

"See? Now we can talk whenever we want!" She lowered her hand, revealing a very self-satisfied grin.

Holding up the tiny piece of electronic jewelry, Link marveled at the gift. This meant they'd be able to stay close to each other, despite being hundreds of miles away! It wouldn't be as much fun as actually having her with him, and he can't imagine how he'll sleep without her soft snores just a few feet away every night, but at least they wouldn't have rely on the mail and wait a week or more to swap stories! Suddenly, her leaving to join the Mage's Guild, and him going off to a far-away school, didn't seem quite so frightening.

As usual, no words were needed -- Link beamed a brilliant smile, to perfectly match the one on his sister's face.

"Journey"

There was something about the kingdom of Hyrule... Link couldn't quite place it, but it felt both familiar and strange. From the moment he crossed the borders between his homeland and the land of his father's people, he felt as though something had awakened inside him. He was suddenly more aware of the land around him. If the water was clean or contaminated, he could tell, with minimal signs. If there was smoke in the air, however faint, he noticed it. If a tree was sickly, he just KNEW, from the moment his hand touched it. This heightened awareness was unsettling, at first, but proved useful, since he was traveling on his own and didn't like the idea of either him or his mare getting sick off bad water, or eating fruit from a rotted tree.

At first, there wasn't anything of particular note. Just endless rolling hills of grass, the tall mountains he'd just come through, on the west, bigger mountains in the distant north, and deeper forest to the south. But the deeper he got into Hyrule, the more signs there were that something wasn't right. Something just FELT wrong, though he couldn't quite place it. And the dread always grew stronger when the wind blew southerly... He supposed this was what the old folks meant by "an ill wind".

All that was driven out of his mind, though, by his first visit to Hyrule Castle Town. He'd never seen ANYTHING like this! It was an old old OLD city, the ancient architecture running together with the new, and everywhere, people: all bustling, shouting, gossiping, hawking wares, moving merchandise, going to and fro. Soldiers, merchants, performers, citizens on errands, tourists like himself, magicians both real and trickster. All with somewhere to be and something to do. He'd never SEEN this many people, together in one spot!

Apparently, this place had once been the seat of power for all of Hyrule, before the expansion. If you squinted real hard, you could see the top of what could be the towers and turrets of a very tall, ancient castle, deep in the heart of the city. It was still the center of government for the southern districts, cumulatively called Old Hyrule. ('Not very creative, these Hyruleans...') There was a great deal of hubbub and excitement; apparently, some Royals were in town. Link found that mildly intriguing, but figured his chances of meeting or even seeing a dignitary were on the low side, so he picked up some supplies, spent a couple hours exploring and sketching the old architecture, then found a place to get his ear pierced and -- sore, but happy -- headed out to where he'd left his horse, Cath'ren, tethered near a copse of trees. He fed and groomed her till the sun went down, then pulled out his sleeping roll.

"Destiny"

The day after his first glimpse of Hyrule Castle Town, he sidetracked a little to explore some nearby ruins he'd heard about. While sketching a faded glyph sequence in an old stone tablet, that weird vibe he'd been getting all week suddenly flared up. He couldn't pin it, but something distinctly felt "not right". Within the hour, his horse began uncharacteristically shying and whickering. 'Now I KNOW something's wrong.' It wasn't long before the wind shifted, and the distinct smell of something massive burning invaded his senses. Before he could identify the source, however, a nearby scream pierced the air. Running towards the sound, Link saw something looming in the trees. Approaching with care, he saw that it's a giant... "man-beast", is the best way he can describe it... And there was another one, not far away. But more importantly, there was a PERSON there: an old woman, bent in fear, holding a cane like a weapon in one hand and gripping a scroll in the other, the knuckles of both hands white with strain.

There's no way she can win. Or even survive. The man-beasts towered over her, nearly twice her height and at least three times her width, both carrying dangerous-looking spears.

Acting on instinct, Link grabbed a large tree branch -- the only possible weapon at his disposal -- and, walking cautiously toward the nearest brute, bludgeoned it on the head with a vertical strike. The beast emitted a low, sharp yelp and whirled around, beady eyes looking around menacingly, its eye-line just above Link's head. And now, he really SHOULD have run, before being spotted, but adrenaline must have kicked in, because without thinking, he smoothly reversed the make-shift weapon's arc and jabbed the monster in the gut. As it bent to clutch its now-sore midsection, Link spun around the branch once more and speared it through the eye with a sickening, wet crunch. The towering mass fell forward. Link jumped out of its path, then jumped over it, yanking the spear out of its big, meaty hand before it could finish dropping.

Yeah, he MUST have been running on adrenaline, because he knew perfectly well, with that part of his brain that was still thinking, that he SHOULD, by all rights, have been running for the hills, screaming his head off. But that part of his brain was not in control right then. Spear and branch both in hand, now, he leapt between the next monster and the old woman, throwing the stick at the creature's head with a flick of his arm that made the branch spin mid-air and smack the beast with more force than he thought himself capable of. Then, taking advantage of its temporarily-stunned state, he hitched the spear in both hands and -- again, with strength he didn't know he had -- jabbed it through the monster's thick neck -- an instant kill. Before the horror that he'd just KILLED something could set in, though, he watched with macabre fascination as the corpse seemed to ripple, then vanish, in a puff of putrid-looking smoke, leaving only its spear and a pieces of armor to crumble to the ground, in its place.

NOW, he freaked. With a yelp, he backed away. A solid object suddenly touching his shoulder blade made him whirl around and back up a step, arms whipping up in defense, making an X before his head and heart, like his mother had taught him.

He blinked. It was only the old lady. The one he'd just... 'I-I SAVED her! Did I just-- !'

"Young man --" Whatever she was about to say must have caught in her throat, because her mouth then hung open, and she stared at him -- HARD. Specifically, she was looking at something on his chest; or was it his arms? His hands, maybe?

A heartbeat later, and calmly, she called again. "Young man... come here, please." To hear her, you wouldn't think she'd just been attacked by two foul monsters and been promptly saved by a kid barely into puberty. He, himself, was stunned at what just happened, but something in her tone was decidedly authoritative, and he couldn't resist obeying her, arms slowly dropping their guarded stance as he approached her.

"Motivation"

He was thinking she's a little bit batty, this old woman. Shortly after meeting him, she gave him the scroll in her hand and told him the Princess of this land had been kidnapped. Then she asked him to help. HIM. 'Me? Rescue someone? She's crazy!' Then again, '... isn't that what I just did?' But that line of thought just brought up more questions, so he didn't dwell on it. Nonetheless, he did agree to lead her back to civilization. Helping her onto his horse, he walked Cath'ren (the old woman pronounced it "Catherine") back to Hyrule Castle Town. As they neared, he noticed a rise in intensity in the scent of smoke filling the air. Coughing, heart pounding, he cleared the tree line, holding Cath'ren's reins, and abruptly halted, aghast at the sight awaiting him: Hyrule Castle Town had burned down. Completely. The masonry, thousands of years old, was now charred and black, and the walls had crumbled to the ground in great heaps. The center of the town -- the castle -- had become a twisted, smoldering mess sitting high among the rubble, like some mammoth tree from the depth of Hell.

"That will be your first stop... if you choose to help." The old woman -- Impa, she called herself -- pointed at the ruins.

He couldn't imagine where in the world she meant for him -- or anybody -- to "go" within such a death-trap, but then an oddly deep shadow at the center of the mess caught his eye, and he squinted to better look... There was a doorway! There, at the bottom of the castle ruins! Well... to be frank, it looked more like a cave, than a doorway... Either way, he's not setting FOOT inside there!

"Come. I know people who will help and a place to rest for the night." Before he could argue, she was leading his horse, him still walking at Cath'ren's side.

He was still convincing himself that she was crazy, and that as soon as he let her off, he would be turning right around and bolting for Lake Hylia. But then he met the "help" she was talking about: a ragtag band of old men, crippled warriors, and orphaned children, ludicrously calling themselves "The Resistance".

"For the last four years, Ganon has been pillaging our lands. His monsters roam the streets, killing men, women, and children, indiscriminately. They burn our towns. Most people have already fled the areas near the mountain -- that's his home. Hyrule Castle Town and Lake Hylia are -- were -- our last bastions of hope, in the Southern Provinces. Whoever isn't there, is dead, or has fled to the Northern Kingdom or the Eastern Continent. New Kakariko was the first place razed, three years back. If you go there, now, there's nothing but a great cemetery. These children are what's left of the once-sprawling New Kakariko Town. Now, the only place still untouched is Lake Hylia."

Link gaped, eyes scanning the weary, dirty faces of these "freedom fighters". The children's eyes, in particular -- though really, a lot of them are about his age -- large and glazed, the round faces already creased by early worry-lines... And, over it all, the overwhelming sense that this kingdom -- this land -- was SCREAMING for help. He could almost HEAR the land's plight. Now, this... these children... it was more than he could take... Looking down at Impa's oddly cool and set features, Link merely nodded. And she merely smiled, as though she'd known his answer, all along.

A/N: In case anyone's wondering where the neck Link is, I decided to take liberties and make the entrance to Level 1 into a twisted, burnt ruin that only RESEMBLES a tree, as opposed to an ACTUAL tree, because if you study the maps, Level 1 is roughly where Hyrule Castle and Hyrule Castle Town are supposed to be, based on the other games.

"Expectations"

Ask him what the appeal was, and he wouldn't know how to answer. Sure, she was beautiful: strawberry blonde, blue-green eyes, delicate features. But, that wasn't the real attraction; pretty girls were nothing new, to Link. His own family was full of them, and Calatian women are notorious for knowing how to make the absolute best of what they've got. There was nothing sexy or sultry about her. She was haughty, rarely laughed, and moved like she had a stick up her royal butt -- probably wouldn't know what to do in a Circle Dance, if you drew her a diagram. What's worse, it seemed she knew nothing about proper Hero/Fair Maiden conventions: it'd been three days since he'd saved her, and she'd made NO move to kiss or even hug him -- had the girl never read a decent fairy tale, or adventure comic?! And yet, there it was: she was so much NOT what he'd been expecting, it fascinated him.

When he first embarked on this odyssey, he figured there'd be a helpless, romantic-minded waif waiting for him, at the end. He'd slay the monster, rescue the maiden, she'd kiss him and pledge her undying love for him (all talk, of course), he'd get knighted, maybe, and then he'd bid her a fond farewell and be off to resume his summer studies program; maybe come back once every few years to say hi, see how she's doing, and reminisce on the whole "hero status" thing. Instead, the second he finished unlocking her cell door, she'd grabbed his bow and quiver of Light Arrows and joined him in storming the final dungeon! She rained Death From Above while he'd dodged and slashed around Ganon's gigantic legs, and she casually kicked a Stalfos in the head to get it out of her line of sight, all the while barking orders. By the time they finally brought down the overgrown Pig Monster, she was almost as battered and bruised as he was, but when she stepped right over its carcass on her way out the door, she somehow made it look dainty.

Link was never one to talk much. He relied on his body language, his smile, and his overly-talkative sister to get him through all but the most vital dialogue. And yet, from the moment he saw her emerge from Ganon's fortress, the pre-dawn light illuminating her pale face and mussed hair, eyes still aglow from battle, and with the stains of ancient soot adorning her cheeks, he hadn't been able to STOP talking. He often wonders if he's making an idiot of himself. At times, he KNOWS he's making an idiot of himself. But, when he talks, she looks at him. And that attention is worth a lifetime's supply of embarrassment.

A/N: I know Zelda wasn't a part of the in-game final battle against Ganon, in tLoZ, but this is where I decide "she was, really, but the programmers left her out because they ran into time or other constraints" XD

"Lessons"

"You swing that sword like a girl."

"I AM a girl!"

"Oh, right...", he mumbles, then cheekily laughs off the faux-pas with, "Yes, I'd noticed!"

He pointedly ignores the Death Glare she shoots him.

"You know you wield your magic like a bludgeon?"

"Alright, so my aim's a little off...", he grumbles.

"A little? I'd be surprised if you could hit the broad side of a building if you were aiming for it!"

"..."

Before long, an accord was forged: Link would teach Zelda to fight in close quarters, and Zelda would (try) to teach him magic. Zelda got the better end of the bargain, in the sense that she was able to actually LEARN something. In fact, she was good -- not as powerful as him, but faster, and capable of twisting her body in ways Link could barely comprehend, but VERY much liked to watch.

The magic lessons WEREN'T so good: Link's potential was always weak, and his control almost nonexistent. Somehow, he's able to handle high-energy artifacts, and it's through these that he can cast spells without the backlash hurting himself or others, but he'll never be exactly competent.

Oh well. Either way, he got to spend lots more time with his Princess, and that made it all worthwhile.

"Mixed Signals"

The clock ticked off the minutes and hours. The calendar marked the days. Seasons passed. But one thing didn't change: Zelda had YET to reciprocate on his affections. If he asked to kiss her, she laughed it off. When they danced, she won't come closer than absolutely necessary. 'Is she teasing?' He'd noticed that she'll touch him often, in little ways: tap his arm, to get his attention, their hands would linger when they passed each other the salt, at dinner, or she'd stand or walk too close and nudge him lightly in passing. But she wouldn't hug, him or let him hold her, unless she was hurt or in tears. 'Am I just seeing things?' She'd smile that pretty, radiant smile whenever shed seen him, and was always eager to join him on a quest, or simply spend time with him, if they were both bored, but it never progressed beyond conversation. His brightest smile was met with one of her own, but she wouldn't compliment or approach him. His most charming gesture made her proclaim him "sweet" or "thoughtful", but wouldn't net him a kiss. He'd never had a problem like this, before! It was thoroughly depressing. 'Have I lost my touch?' He looked himself in the mirror, at his gangly, now-15-year-old body, and wondered, 'When'd I stop being cute?'

"Longing"

Not one to flog a dead horse after determining it's dead, Link requested time off and headed to Lake Hylia a few months to spend time with his grandfather, with whom he was supposed to have spent a few weeks LAST summer -- though, seeing as how last summer he'd saved Hyrule from being conquered by a psychotic, megalomaniacal mutant pig, he was fairly certain grandpa had forgiven him. And then, there was the Lake. 'Water, sand, and the scantily-clad girls of late summer. Oh, yeah!'

When he got there, he found that the initial enthusiasm quickly faded. 'Oh... wow. I didn't realize Hyrulean swimsuits were so... NOT revealing.' When he exited his grandfather's spare bedroom, clad in simple green and white shorts, his grandpa threw a FIT, then thrust one of his own, "more appropriate" suits at him. That's how Link ended up in an oversized, striped, one-piece swim-trunks/shirt combo -- the shorts portion of it long enough to go past his knees -- and trying his best not to scowl. And the TRULY appalling thing was that he WASN'T the worst-dressed male at the lake. How a country with a much warmer climate than his own can be so fond of overly-bulky clothing was beyond him!

To make matters worse, the equally non-revealing female swimsuits left him with nothing interesting to look at, except faces and hairstyles, which was quickly driving him batty, because nearly every other girl was a blond, but not ONE of them was Zelda.

"Legends"

As the summer came to an end, Link stayed with his grandfather, to help him with the fishing and drying, for winter. These were long, lazy days out on the little boat, waiting for the net or reels to show signs of life, occasionally fending off a Zola or two. They were followed by afternoons spent methodically scaling, gutting, filleting, and setting the white and pink strips of meat into mesh baskets, to be smoked above the fiery oven later in the evening.

It was peaceful, if a little boring, but grandpa's stories went a long way towards easing that boredom -- hearing about his father and uncles' youthful shenanigans was always fun. And grandpa could tell Link things that Dad couldn't, like about grandma, and the old local myths and legends, and about Link's great-great-grandfather, who was rumored to be a great hero.

"You were named after him, you know; not the 'Linkshaia' crap -- that was your mom's idea -- but 'Link'? That's an old, old family name. Fitting, too. Your great-great-grandfather was the one who brought the Triforces of Power and Wisdom out of the Golden Land for us, and now, here's his namesake, come along one hundred years later, to rescue them from the hands of Evil Incarnate. The Old Blood runs strong, young'un. Never forget." It always made Link blush a bit, to see the fiercely proud smile on the Old Man's wrinkled face.

"Another Journey Begins"

For over a month before his birthday, his dreams turned foul, and the same uncomfortable vibe he felt when he first set foot in Hyrule, back when Ganon was still at large, starts to manifest itself -- not with the same intensity, but it was there, and it was as if the land was… worried. He noticed a few people had begun acting oddly, too, as if they were scared, and the sentiment spread, as time progressed. Normally raucous conversation ended in a whisper, and public laughter would start, then fade out much too abruptly. There was a general sense of tension in the air. But try as he might, he couldn't figure out the source. So he waited, and kept an ear open to what the wind might say, and stayed by his grandfather's side, in case he was needed.

The day he turned 16 -- the very HOUR he turned 16, in fact, his hand started feeling funny. It didn't ache or itch, but there was a sense of… MOVEMENT, there. For a couple of uncomfortable hours, Link had horrible, irrational visions of evil, mutant parasites lurking just under the skin -- blame a 10-year addiction with horror and adventure comics… By morning, though, the rising sun revealed what the light of a few candles had somehow failed to: there, on the back of his left hand, was a new mark, shaped like…

For a moment, he thought he was imagining things; what the HECK was the symbol of Hyrule, the Hyrulean royal family, and his own religion -- the Trinity Church -- DOING etched onto his skin, as if it had always been there?! Cleaning and scrubbing it with soap and water, alcohol, and mineral spirits did nothing except leave his hand a bit red and puffy, the mark still glaringly visible, just as clearly as when he first noticed it. Exasperated, he settled for some gauze bandages to wrap his hand in -- he was already something of a local celebrity, since last summer, but if people saw that mark, they'd think he'd developed a God Complex, and that just SO did not sit right, by him.

The dreams continued, and the mark, or rash, or WHATEVER it, was WASN'T going away, either. Finally, he decided to cut his vacation short and go ask the only person he could think of that might know something: Impa. If nothing else, at least she'd believe him, if he explained it wasn't a tattoo (that's what his grandpa had thought, and while he hadn't scolded him about the misuse of socio-political and religious symbols, he DID lecture him about the stupidity of "marking yourself up before you're old enough to know what you really stand for").

Turns out, Link was right: she DID know…

Amazing what a difference one little symbol can make, in the course of your life.

A/N: The continuation to this scene, which is when Link gets to the North Palace and finds out that Zelda's in trouble, has already been described, in detail, in Chapter 2 of "Developments". I'm quite proud of the scene, as it was written there, so I won't rewrite it here -- it wouldn't come out as good. So if you wanna know, you'll just have to read it in-context! :D

"Nightmares"

He hates the dark. It's not the monsters or the bogeymen under the bed. It's not the fear of the unknown. It's the memories.

Darkness reminds him of another darkness - one that wears his face. One with glowing red eyes, raven-black hair, and skin like charcoal. One that shifts between solid and fog; a darker shadow in a room already full of shadows. That lounges at him out the depths of an ancient, age-darkened, and warped mirror, in a hall full of many similar, ancient mirrors. A shadow with all-too-solid hands and nails and teeth, who can suddenly wisp away, weightless, away from his strokes An involuntary shudder runs through him, recalling the hits he DID manage to score, and how it screamed and thrashed, black blood pouring out, only to dissipate into the air, insubstantial as smoke, while the creature looked at him and cackled. How it then flowed behind him, to cling heavily and all-too-real onto his shoulders, its death-rattle voice whispering horrors right against his ear -- about what he'll do to him, when he's too tired to fight, and what he'll do with his body, when the life has gone, and what the Evil One will do to Zelda and Lydia and his other family and loved ones, after Link's body's been used to revive him -- it hisses these things, just before sharp teeth clamp down and draw blood, claw-like nails simultaneously raking across tender stomach and chest.

Link can't even remember when the fight ended. All he remembers after being clawed is a moment of what, looking back, he can only describe as "berserker rage". The creature said something else -- Link can't recall what -- and all he remembers after that is hacking, hacking, and hacking, until the creature could no longer retain its shape. Until there was more wisp than matter, and then, finally, gray soot, flying everywhere. He remembers being at until long after the creature had vanished, and his hands and shirt and face were covered with soot. Until, seeing himself in one of the mirrors that lined the hall, he nearly attacked it, thinking he had to face yet another shadow-monster. When he realized what it was he was seeing, he smashed the mirror. It, and every other mirror in the hall.

To this day, he refuses to keep walled or standing mirrors. Those he DOES keep -- always hand-held, and only out of necessity -- are promptly locked-up, when nighttime approaches.

"Hunted"

He'd thought that finding the Triforce of Courage would have stopped the paranoia -- the feeling that something was still after him, that eyes watched from around every corner, and that if he ever dropped his guard enough, there they'd be, spears and tridents and claws and teeth, waiting to tear him apart, collect his blood, and resurrect their master. But, if anything, the feeling had only grown greater. He'd told himself it was just imagination, and done his best to ignore the dreams. But when a simple picnic outside town nearly got Zelda killed, by a horde of Moblins aiming their spears at HIM, he finally heeded the Wake-Up Call.

He never told her why, but, the next day, before leaving for good, he handed her a pack with the more magical or unnecessary artifacts amongst his gear, a map with "In case of emergency, find me here" scribbled on at the bottom, and a hastily-acquired Last Will and Testament he'd forced a very flustered and confused clerk to draw up late the previous night, the whole of which read: "Burn my remainders -- clothes and all -- IMMEDIATELY. Eliminate any trace of blood at the site. Signed, Link."

When he turned to go, he told himself he'd only imagined there were tears in her eyes.

"Is This 'Love'?"

It occurred to him, sometime that first winter away from the castle, that this was no longer "just a crush". He'd known he would miss her -- she was his closest friend, after all -- but he'd never expected it to HURT. To spend wistful moments each day staring hatefully at the calendar, mentally marking the days since he'd last seen her. Or to wake up eager to see her at breakfast, only to look around and be depressed to see the little stone-and-mortar shack he'd built, because being here meant she wouldn't be, and that his simple wooden table would never know the pleasure of her company; he'd never before experienced such disappointment over anything he'd made with his own two hands.

With each new day, as he awoke to check and re-set the various traps he'd arranged around his home, to prevent surprise attacks by Ganon's minions, he found himself hating these creatures more and more. Each day, he grew more bitter, because it was THEIR fault he'd had to leave. After a time, he started getting "creative" with the traps, to vent some frustration -- instead of a simple pitfall, there'd be wooden spikes at the bottom. Instead of a drop-down cage, there'd be a springing metal trap, or a swinging battering ram. Rather than show up every morning to merely zap the trapped minions via traditional means, Link found himself being more and more tempted to "play", before disposing of them.

He only came back to his senses one day, when a Goriya's rat-like squeaks began sounding like whimpers, and the thought occurred to him that Zelda would be horrified over his cruelty. Ashamed beyond reason, he spent the next four weeks doing self-imposed penance, refusing to touch himself, no matter how vivid the images his adolescent mind produced of his beloved Princess. After the first week, he silently thanked the Goddesses for the lack of easy access to hot water in the wild, as bathing in the mind-clearingly frigid waters of the nearby stream became something he actually looked forward to.

"The Last Straw"

It had been cold. HORRIBLY cold. And wet. He'd been sneezing and coughing all day. And now, he'd spilled water on his last book of matches, all because his hands were shivering too much, and his numb fingers had clamped around the box's corner hard enough, and at just the right angle, to send it flying into his washbowl. Oh, and the nearest marketplace was two hours away… Life SUCKED, away from civilization. He'd soon need to go buy more matches (and Cold medicine), anyway, but if he left now, it'd be significantly past dark, by the time he got back, and the road running through the woods wasn't very safe, at night: the woods were wild, the trail uneven and icy, and poor lighting could all too easily lead to a broken ankle, for his poor Catherine, and that could potentially lead to a broken leg, for him. NOT a good situation to be in, even IF the monster attacks had seriously dwindled, these last couple of months. No. He'd just have to go in the morning.

Not relishing the idea of waking up to frostbite, he decided to try ONE more thing before giving up, grabbing a tent roll, and bunking-up next to his horse for body-heat. Making sure there was nothing flammable in the immediate vicinity of the fireplace, other than the wood he'd be using, he crouched, drew a deep breath, steadied himself, and pointed an upraised arm directly at the timbers, chanting the magic word to summon Fire. Fate, or the Cold he'd been fighting, must have had a vile sense of humor, because his body picked THAT moment to sneeze. Suddenly, the simple Fire spell shot out as a Fire-BALL, and his aim, thrown off by the violent exhalation, sent it flying straight at (of all things!) the large, copper skillet he had hanging a few feet up on the wall, between the chimney and mantle. The Fireball ricocheted off the flat, metal surface, and the corresponding angle sent it heading straight for -- NOT the stone walls, NOT the pressed-dirt floor, Not out the window, into the stream, NO! It just HAD to head for: -- the plaster and straw-thatch roof…

His house didn't burn COMPLETELY down -- thank goodness for snow-damp thatch, stone walls, and small favors -- but he ended up sleeping in the stable, anyway… for that night, the next night, and every night the following WEEK, while he fixed the gaping hole in his roof. The new plaster never quite sealed right (probably because of the humidity), and the very next rainstorm found him scrambling for buckets and cups and dishes to gather the leaks… And the rainstorm after that… And the rainstorm after THAT; Spring had officially begun.

When Princess Zelda -- now QUEEN Zelda -- showed up a few months later, asking him to join the Hylian Knights and assume a teaching position, he didn't even NEED to hear her well-thought, impeccably spoken rationale (ranging from, "you've earned this honor," to, "the new generation of knights would do SO much better, with your instruction," to, "my reign is just starting, and having a Hero of your caliber at my side will help cement my status in the People's eyes"). Fact was, between his brain's exultations of "YES! No more living in this miserable hovel!" and his heart (and other body parts) feeling slightly drunk and happy just to SEE Zelda, he had to bite his tongue to not whoop and holler and spin her around in jubilation. The simple, if shaky, "Very well, Highness" he DID eventually utter was so calm and polite, it actually surprised him -- he'd thought for sure he'd lose it and just tackle her, any second.

When she left, smiling softly, he gathered his things, slopped another layer of plaster on the ceiling, and barred-up the doors and windows. The next day, he moved back in, nearly bouncing with every step. She'd even gone to the trouble of clearing out his old room at the Palace, the sweet, kind, thoughtful, wonderful girl! For the first time in almost a year, he felt truly at home.

A/N: The rest of the story is continued in my WIP, "Developments".

A/N (last one, promise!): First of all, my apologies to anyone who's been waiting on me to finally put up the new chapters of "Developments"; I know it's been ages, especially since the first six chapters were all up in about a week, total. I PROMISE I'm not quitting that project, and I hope this pseudo-fic proves that the story is still VERY fresh in my mind.

Mostly, I've just gotten embroiled in many, MANY side-projects (many of which WILL be posted, btw!), including an INSANELY long Super Smash Bros Brawl crack-fic co-written with FFnet author, Lady Norbert. Actually, we've started a new FFnet pen name, for our collaborative works! We, together, are Lady Zhaniel. We'll be posting to that just as soon as we're done editing the crack-fic.

Also, I've tracked down SEVERAL wonderful writers, some of which you guys may be familiar with, and started a Live Journal community for adult LoZ fans, since there are some things FFnet will simply NOT allow, plus, some of us just don't feel comfortable with how easy it is for younger readers to access stuff not intended for them. It's a members-only community, but the only requirement for joining is that you be over 18, so if you're interested, the community name is "zelda vintage" (substitute an underscore for the space between words, since FFnet won't let me write it properly):"For LoZ fans who, like a fine wine, have only gotten better with age". So far, the member base for active writers includes Lady Norbert, Hylian Shadow, Aubuyn, Zeffyface, Hiza-chan, and SometimesAMuse, all of whom are found here on FFnet (but have a couple stories posted there that you WON'T find here!). We'd love to have more of you join us!

Now that things have settled down some, and I've written these drabbles to get myself back into the groove of things, I do believe I'll be able to resume writing the new chapter of "Developments", soon. Again, TERRIBLY sorry for the wait! And I am THOROUGHLY thankful to everyone who read my stuff, and especially to those of you who've taken the time to review. Keep rocking!