Heya everyone!
After weeks... no, months... of trying to come up with a storyline for Kokiri Dragon's challenge to write a fic featuring Zelda and Sheik as different people, I have FINALLY come up with something, and actually FINISHED it!
So, anyways, here it is. Enjoy!
... and please don't ridicule me too much for my awful poetry...
-
"A Sheikah, unbound by destiny.
Or am I?
Can one working closely with the ties of fate truly be his own?
Or am I merely a shadow, controlled by the will of the Goddesses?
To appear and disappear at their illustrious whims?
My tortured mind is assailed by questions
Coming upon me in the dark, they spring.
Who am I?
Was I the one who helped the Hero and Princess of Destiny?
Why can I not understand?
My harp sings softly to the ears of others…
What messages does it whisper to me?"
-
"Ugh!" Sheik cried out in frustration, crumpling the paper and hurling it away, "Why do all my poems turn out like this!"
Zelda, tending the flowers in the garden nearby, laughed softly, "Sheik, stop trying so hard. You're wasting paper."
"I'm not trying hard," the disgruntled Sheikah growled, contemplating the wisdom of snapping his last quill in half. "It just comes out that way."
"Here, let me see." The princess fetched the balled up paper from behind a rosebush. Unfolding it, she read it over slowly. Then, clearing her throat softly, she raised an eyebrow at Sheik, "Sheik… why are you writing poetry that questions your own existence…?"
"I… er…" Sheik gave her a pointed look, "Well, let's see you try writing something that makes sense about me. It's impossible!" He thrust the quill and paper at her.
"All right. I will." Zelda put pen to paper.
-
"Sheik, bearer of wisdom..."
-
"Wait… no. Technically, I'm the bearer of wisdom…" Zelda frowned, glancing at the Triforce mark on the back of her hand. "Um…" She tried again.
-
"The mysterious traveling Sheikah,
Softly playing the lost melodies of Hyrule
Clearing the way for the Hero to travel
And--------------"
-
"… Sheik? How did you know the lost melodies of Hyrule if you were a traveler?"
The Sheikah shrugged, "I don't know. Why is it impossible to write anything that makes sense about me?"
"It's not impossible, Sheik." Zelda insisted.
"Then write something."
Zelda bit her lip, trying once more.
-
"The lone Sheikah, last of his…"
-
"Oh, but there's Impa…" Zelda glanced toward the figure of her guardian in the shadows of a tree not far away as she scribbled out the line she had written.
She paused, pen upraised.
There had to be something she could write about Sheik that would make sense.
-
"Sheik… is… a… Sheikah."
-
"There." Zelda handed the quill and paper back to Sheik.
The unimpressed Sheikah raised his eyebrows, "… is that the best you can do…?"
The princess crossed her arms, reddening slightly, "It doesn't matter; I wrote something that made sense about you."
"… can you write anything more… elaborate?" he asked, "And is true?
"… elaborate and true?" She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, "Fine. Give me that pen." Zelda snatched the paper back, adding to her sentence.
-
"Sheik is a stupid Sheikah."
-
"Hey!" Sheik cried out, glaring at the smirking princess.
"You asked for 'more elaborate' and 'true'." She sniffed, turning back to the flowers.
"If that's the way you want it…" Sheik growled, scratching out a few lines on the paper. "Here's a poem that's perfectly true."
-
"Zelda is a stuck-up princess…"
-
"Sheik…" Zelda said threateningly.
He ignored her and continued reading.
-
"… who's too busy messing with fate to do anything worthwhile…"
-
"You do realize that I'm armed with an array of garden tools… don't you?" There was a dangerous glint in the Zelda's eyes as she picked up a hand trowel.
Sheik knew it would be wiser to stop now, but he couldn't resist a final jab at the princess's ego.
-
"… and can't write poetry."
-
A shovel-full of dirt struck him in the face, sending him stumbling backwards, spitting out bits of grass and mulch.
He wiped a hand across his mouth and grinned, "Have you got a problem with the truth, Zelda?" Laughing, he dodged another shovel-full of dirt. Before Zelda could reload, Sheik dipped his pen into the ink well. "Ah-ah-ah." He touched the tip of the pen, pulling it back like a catapult.
Zelda backed away, "Don't… you… dare."
"Hm, so the pen really is mightier than the sword!" Sheik mused, advancing slowly.
"Sheik!" Zelda cried, retreating further. Unfortunately, she soon found herself trapped the corner of the hedge surrounding the garden. She turned to face her assailant, "This is my favorite dress! If you get ink on it, I swear I'll kill you."
"Why are you wearing your favorite dress to weed the garden?" Sheik asked incredulously.
"Because…" Zelda faltered, "Well, dirt will wash out! I'm serious, Sheik! If you flick that at me…"
Sheik chuckled, lowering his weapon. "Don't worry, Zelda. I wouldn't really do that. Besides, I tried it the other day and it doesn't even work. See?" He pointed it to his left, flicking the tip with his right forefinger. A few drops of ink were launched off into the air. "Er… it didn't work yesterday…"
Zelda's brow knitted in disapproval at Sheik. Then, upon glancing to Sheik's left, her expression changed dramatically. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly.
"… what's wrong with you, Zelda?" Sheik raised an eyebrow.
But she wasn't looking at him anymore.
Sheik followed her gaze, turning to his left.
There, not two yards from him, stood a very stern, slightly ink-spattered Impa.
Sheik dropped the quill in surprise, "… oops."
Impa narrowed her eyes.
Turning three shades paler, Sheik staggered hurriedly backwards, "I'll-see-you-later-Zelda-bye!" and dove over the hedge and out of sight.
Zelda swallowed hard, wishing she could do the same. She turned to Impa, knowing that she would know that she was partly responsible for this. If that made sense.
Instead of the expected reprimand, though, Impa handed Zelda a slip of paper, "Give this to Sheik when you see him next." And with that, she turned and receded into the shadows of the garden.
Zelda breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was close.
She turned the paper over in her hands. "Hm…" Looking first left, then right, she unfolded it.
-
"Zelda and Sheik
Man and dame
So alike,
They're nearly the same.
In thought, in word,
In mind and deed.
Good advice, both
Must learn to heed.
And here's the advice,
Its truth you may see:
Trouble always ensues
When you write poetry."
The End
There you go! Bad poetry or not, my second challenge-story is now officially... COMPLETE!
Now... don't you go and forget to review... -pulls back inked quill with forefinger-
Haha. Don't worry. It doesn't even work! -flicks quill-
"Agh!"
Oops... sorry Mom!
"And this was my brand new sweater!"
Er... ah... gotta run!