Compendium:

n 1: a publication containing a variety of works. (synonym: collection)

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Yes, this content has been up before. There had been an inaccurate statement, (Or perhaps a statement never proved on the actual game. I'm not quite sure.) and so I took down the story for a slight look-over. Truth is, I wouldn't take a story down unless I believed it wasn't exactly a story. And so, to leave the spotlight to much longer, much more thought-out stories, I will keep my little experiments of character within one story and separate it through different chapters, as I've never seen this done before.

To speak on a more important plane, yes, the chapters may be completely unrelated, just tools to help me test out my theories, as I'm sure each fan has many of their own theories of the game. And I'm well aware that the sentence before me is grammatically incorrect, heh. Now, to speak of the actual story, it had been a bit different from the norm. I usually don't think of Princess Zelda as this careless, but then again, I never liked her as much as I should. Perhaps when I had been writing this, my indifferent feelings toward her were at a peak, which aren't usually. But it's an interesting concept to think of her as a princess who thinks about her land before someone's feelings. Seems to have a lot to play with here.

And I refused, somehow, to speak of Navi, a character who seems to be nearly taboo to fanfiction writers. I suppose I should have added Link's feelings toward Navi leaving him behind as well, but I think Link needed his moment of feeling betrayed toward Princess Zelda, if not only a little bit.

Experiment #1: Link's feelings of betrayal toward Princess Zelda. ( - - His thoughts were that she had been fond of him, only to be discarded as he completed his journey.)

Words: 1003.

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A thank-you.

I went through the ends of the land, slashed enemies, beheaded them. Let the blood crust on my blade, spent many nights with the unpleasant smells of blood and venom on my skin.

And what she told me was, "Thank-you."

It was right, I suppose, that she should thank me. I needn't a thanks, however. Perhaps, what I needed, was her attention. I did this for her because I couldn't stand to see those eyes, beautiful blue eyes, nearly well up in tears at the thought that her land should be destroyed. I found myself experiencing things someone should never experience: Monsters, demons, nightmares, dungeons... I suffered sickness often because of it all, suffered horrible burns and gashes that still etched my flesh to this day. I sold my body to her. And she thanked me for it.

Just... thanked me for it.

Nothing else.

Was it worth her attention? I suppose it was. I loved her. I loved her and the thin blond hair that skimmed and covered her shoulders. She had grown positively exquisite during the seven years I slept, but had she grown careless as well? I could see the softness around her eyes and lips, but a sinking feeling clutched tightly onto my gut, convinced me otherwise. When she parted those rosebud lips to speak, I found myself listening to the loveliest instrument and the most elegant song, even when I had grown accustomed to music to help me through the journey.

At those moments, before the words of gratitude, I had almost forgotten that I had lost a friend I had grown fond of.

He hadn't been a friend, exactly, but he had helped me. And this, to me, was a good friend. A good friend, whom was a figment of her wondrous imagination.

Why did she disguise herself from me, made me believe that my friend was solid, positively real? She said it was because she needed to hide herself from Ganondorf. But too often we were alone. Without showing herself, she could've told me, with her talented speech, that 'he' was in fact the woman I was seeking the attention of. Despite not being as educated as a boy should be, I was able to keep a secret.

But even then, realizing that the mysterious man with gauze-wrapped fingers and concealed face was the woman with the sweet-smelling flesh and radiant eyes, my heart did not leap up onto my throat as I thought it would. Of course, I gaped at her beauty, but the feeling of betrayal did not disappear completely. I still felt as if she had taken away a good friend, even when she had been the one who had created him.

And when Ganondorf had captured her inside the shell very familiar to the one the king of the Zoras had been imprisoned, I found reluctant to save her again.

But I had. I had defeated Ganondorf, escaped from the crumbling tower with her, kept her safe and behind while I battled enemies within the crucial time. I battled with Ganon, the gigantic minotaur. I deftly swung my blade at his throat, and with more blood splattered upon myself, the blade, and the ground, he had been slain. And even at my trembling knees, gashes from Ganon's heavy weapon, and blood dripping from my lips, I refused to crawl toward her. What would she think of me? Simpler than I even was. I walked.

Then, she said those words.

"Thank-you."

She held out one hand, in which I thought was to help me keep standing. After a moment, I had realized that she had wanted her gifted ocarina back. With trembling hands, I held the smooth azure instrument in my palms. She would return me to my childhood. She said that I should recover my lost years. And even more would she become unreachable to me. Returning to my childhood had the chance of isolating everyone of their memories of me, and perhaps even my own memories. The thought of losing sight of that beautiful lazuline gaze gave a heavy feeling to my chest, and the thought that she would never remember my own deepened the feeling.

I handed the instrument to her quickly, and the brush of our fingers did not make me tremble, as I imagined it would. Beauty itself didn't strike me as heavily as it should.

And now, as a child again, I found that I remember her. The way her lips parted, and the way I had wanted to kiss them. The softness of her lithe hands, and how I had looked at my own thick, calloused fingers in near envy. How I would've liked to reach out and stroke her milky ear, knowing that from the sensitivity of it, she would quiver in my arms. Was I an adolescent trapped into a child's body, with passions for a woman that would not live up to herself until seven years?

The confirmation had been rather difficult to accept. What she was to me, was a beauty. Was a woman I would willingly fight the threads of time for. What I was to her, was a hero and nothing above, nor beneath. What she had seen was a dirty teenager with a lopsided smile and ripped clothing.

I wiped the dirt from my cheeks. For awhile, I had succumbed to my youthful intentions and found wetness upon my cheeks. Today I smiled, the lop-sided smile that perhaps made her cringe. I was dirty from head-to-toe from playing with my friends, and I found that I was able to laugh. She was a beautiful woman, and I doubted that I would find one of deeper beauty. I had grown from this. A lesson in which teaches that sometimes, things aren't meant to go in favour to your passions.

It was alright. Given awhile, I would forget that the Hero of Time had been used by the Princess of Hyrule.