So another Christmas is here at last! Yippee!!! I've decided to write a fan fiction to commemorate this joyous holiday in a special way *although one might say in a morbid fashion*. But even if it isn't the classic everyone-sitting-around-a-table-stuffing-their-faces-and-laughing type of Christmas fic, I hope you'll give it a chance.
Also I'm not positive if Hyrule even celebrates jolly old Christmas *probably not since it's a religious holiday* but what the heck, pretend they do.
Last issue *promise*: I used Zelda as my main character for this story, as you may see in many of my future fics. Why do I constantly use the Princess of Destiny as my main focal point? Well, frankly, I always thought of her as the most interesting character out of the whole Legend Of Zelda game. Granted she could be a bit more developed… but it always intrigued me how wise she was at such a young age. Zelda always struck me as a strong soul who bore all of the pains of her country silently and even after she too gave up her childhood *some people seem to think only Link gave up anything hmph* she never whined about it… Ok ok, I should just shut up now and stick to the story. Hehe.
Make this little author's Christmas wish come true, won't ya, and review her fanfic? ^_^
K done with the shameless pitiful begging *hehe* and onto the fic!
My Silent Stone Angel
A chill is in the brisk December air this Hyrule night and it casts upon the land a still cautious silence. The wind blows with tapered fingers of numbing ice to lick at the tendrils of long yellow grass and break their brittle bodies like the backs of aged men too weary of the world and its wicked ways. No creature dares stir in this perilous dark night, the land is empty of all but the wind and the moaning grass. It is the eve before Christmas here in Hyrule but you can hardly tell. No one is out celebrating and drinking Cucco Nog; it's all very silent and cold, like the night of a morbid funereal procession.
Up on Goron Mountain's boiling volcanic peak the winter's frost has been unable to reach. The hot suffocating smoke acts like a foggy blanket against the chill and also a sickening reminder that it isn't just a calm December night. The peaceful mountain inhabitants known as the Gorons live upon the hot volcano-like mountain as prisoners, desperately yearning to leave to seek help in cleansing their mountain of the evil within it, yet wearily aware that there is no help to be found out there in the cold tundra once known as Hyrule Kingdom. No laughter or gentle chitchat echoes across the deep cavernous homes up in Goron Mountain. The peaceful people sit in huddled masses of sadness, their children awake with wide wild eyes, nightmares plague them like locus.
The Zora's River too is also under the iron grip of a madman. The fast flowing water, which would usually only be coated over with a thin sheet of filmy ice, was now frozen thoroughly solid to the core. Even the poor silver scaled fish lay trapped motionless in the clear ice, their bodies like tiny relics to their unfortunate fates and the harsh reality of the time. The water people called the Zoras have even a worse fate then the Gorons. Their glimmering slippery blue fish-like bodies are now completely encased in thick ice, they are like statues who look out at their world with haunted eyes. Poor, desperate Zoras. Poor, desperate Gorons. Poor, desperate fish. At this wretched time everyone, except for a very small few, are equal in their state of being: poor and desperate.
Small crystal flakes of white pour forth from the graying heavens to gently cover the seared red earth like little pieces of hope and floating dreams; taken from the heads of children and scattered with the wind. If only that were true, if only dreams and hope were as easy to come by now as snow, and in the morning all the creatures of Hyrule could awake to see their houses coated in hope and faith of a new day. But alas, that isn't what these tiny small crystals are; they are just fluffy shards of ice, no less and no more… And the people who once would wake early in the morn to see the white landscape and the children who would giddily tramp upon the crisp snow, what of them? Their houses are scorched and torn apart and they are left homeless; forced to swallow their pride and beg for a rupee on the desolate streets. They are, as I've said before, like all other creatures, poor and desperate. Walking aimlessly with shabby clothing and bare feet, fatigued husks of the proud people they once were. Everything is so hopeless and lost now. O, how truly disheartening this time is.
A thin figure stands now with her back to the wind, allowing her dark black cloak to swirl like an empty shadow dancing with the cruel wind. This young woman, addressed as Zelda and once long ago as the Princess of Hyrule and now only known as dead, is silent and still, her posture demanding authority and drawing strength. She is not out at some gay Christmas Ball as she had done seven years ago nor does she feel any Christmas cheer. Tonight to her is just like any night: hopelessly dark and unforgiving. Little specks of snow dot the surface of her velvety rich robe and, because the top of her hood covers most of her face, just the rises of her sharp pail cheeks get dusted. A fringe of golden hued locks poke out from the edge of the hood and partake in the dance along with the cloak and the wind. Eyes, the hue of a beautiful clear ocean, stare out at the night sky and they are heavy with a quiet melancholy not usually acquainted with such beauty. Perhaps it is because what she is staring at so intently deserves such reverence.
It is Karikoko Graveyard (Jasmine: I have no idea if that's how its spelled), a place of destitution and lost souls. The wind howls like a beast and whips over the small yard, picking up pebbles from the woven dirt path and bright yellow peddles from the flowers offered to the memory of the dead. Row upon row of aged cracking gray gravestones huddle amongst one another as if they were a throng of old vagabonds gathering together for warmth. The snow flutters down yet offers no solace to the darkness and despair of this place. Maybe the snow knows that dozens of people ended up here, their lives and their dreams snuffed out like the golden flame of a candle… Or maybe the snow knows nothing at all except that here at Karikoko Graveyard is not one of the best places to end up.
"Kawwww!" screeched an oily raven high up in a barren tree and his call breaks the silence like a rock shattering a glass pane window. Zelda stepped foreword without a word, her small sharp boots scuffling across the trodden pathway, and walked between the gravestones as if she's seen this all before. In fact, she has. Every day actually. All of Hyrule is a graveyard now, a wasteland of people who believe they are as good as dead.
Princess Zelda came to the end of the yard and peered deep within a cavernous hole in the earth. With her blue tinted lips set firmly in a sort of grimace, the young woman walked within the entrance to the Royal Burial Tomb. Her boots click softly against the stone steps as Zelda scuttled down aided by a dim glowing torchlight and entered a grim cave. Solid stone walls rose up on all sides of the young woman like filthy prison fortifications and a white mist hovered just above the slippery floor. Horrifying age-tarnished human bones littered the ground in sickening disarray and as Zelda walked foreword her foot taped against a bleak skull. Before, such a scene as tramping upon the likes of human remains would have made the Princess's stomach churn. However, now it was only mildly revolting. She'd endured much worse then this. Losing your kingdom to a madman: very horrible. Losing your father to a madman: painfully horrible. Losing your pride and identity to this very same madman: excruciatingly unbearable. Kicking up your heels with dead people: a walk in the park. Yea, Zelda could deal.
The Princess of Hyrule carefully trod over to an encrypted wall at the far end of the Royal Family Tomb and studied it in the glowing light provided by two smoldering torches. Crude notes were engraved in the solid stone wall and Zelda ran here small hand over the indented symbols. The dripping of water echoed across the room and the Princess deftly reached within the confines of her cloak to retrieve a small object. A fragile sparkling golden harp with strings woven from the mane of a mystical beast glimmered in the light. Zelda lifted her beautiful instrument up to her chest and began to play a melody so soft and sweet that it seemed alien in a place such as this. The notes flitted like pretty robins up to the rooms ceiling and Zelda closed her eyes, letting her hands move with graceful strokes across the fine harp strands. The song suddenly ended and bright yellow light, like the pure fires of the sun, burst forth on all sides. And then as quickly as it began, the beautiful song and the blazing light vanished, leaving the barren tomb to feel even emptier then before. The Princess slowly opened her eyes, still relishing the slow movements of the melody within her brain, and saw that the wall had slide open. Without hesitation, Zelda stepped beyond the walls of the dreary tomb…
And into a lovely garden! Tall lush hedges bordered a large green plot covered in beautiful big flowers and small sweet fruit trees. White doves coed quietly to one another and tiny iridescent hummingbirds hovered over pink nectar-filled flowers. It was all so gloriously maintained and well-kept that Zelda immediately got the dizzying sensation as if she were back at the Castle, spending a lazy afternoon in her rose garden. The Princess slowly pulled down her hood to reveal a head of overflowing silky blonde hair and blue eyes filled with awe and cautious danger. The garden air was thick with the scent of sugary sweet floral and somewhere close by the sound of soft flowing water could be heard. Zelda's long leather pant clad legs strided foreword uneasily upon a bright red brick path that winded into oblivion. This place was eerily perfect, like an alternate realm to the war-torn land that lay just above.
The Sage of Wisdom cleared the first row of bushes and took a sharp breath of air. There just a few feet from were she stood lay three glass coffins, lidless, and two contained the death-frozen bodies of Zelda's parents. A small pool of crystal blue water with tiny blood red petals floating on the surface surrounded the coffins and a tall marble statue of an angel. The young woman gazed at the tombs of her parents and felt the grief lurk up within her heart.
There was her father, the proud King of Hyrule; his strong body now laid still. A royal tunic of blue accessorized with a golden sash across his broad shoulders gave the mature fifty-year-old man a look of commanding authority. The King's square chin dusted with a thick blonde beard jutted out in a form of dignity, even in death. Zelda bite her lip to stop the tears from flowing. When she was just a young tot, no older then four, she'd sit some moments on her father's lap in the Throne Room. During these quiet times, which were so unusual because of their busy schedules, the King of Hyrule would look out the large window adjacent to his gorgeous golden gilded throne and gently rock his darling Zelda on his knee. The young girl, on the fringe of an afternoon nap, would suck on her other thumb lazily and run her chubby hand through her father's beard, enjoying in its bristly warm touch. Now she was sure his beard was cold and brittle, not at all as she remembered it.
In the middle coffin of shiny glass lay Zelda's mother, beautiful even frozen in death. Since she had died young her perfect pail skin was taut and silky, tiny glimmering diamonds sprinkled over her chest and cheeks. Her hair was held back in a crown of two flaxen braids woven together in the back and a large creamy white flower lay behind one of her ears. Her small thin arms were crossed over her chest in a look of glorious saint-hood and she wore a beautiful gown of pure white, embroidered with gold and diamonds. Her eyes were closed but Zelda knew that if they were open then they would look just how she had remembered them to be: a pair of clear oceans cascading with nurturing love. A memory echoed within the girl's skull like a pebble being thrown from the lip of a chasm. They were at Zelda third birthday party, a lavish gay event, and Zelda's mother was talking to another woman. "Eyes like an old woman, my little Zel has," The Queen said. The tiny Zelda gave her mom a questioning look and asked in her childish voice what that was supposed to mean. In response, the Queen lifted her tiny daughter up into her arms and kissed her upon the forehead, cooing, "It means you have far more wisdom in that small head of yours then a whole cleric! It's like when I stare into that tiny angelic face of yours, I'm staring into another world, one far more complex and intricate then my own." What the young woman had said made no sense to her small child at the time, yet now Zelda understood. She'd seen that also in herself; how as a child she liked nothing more then sitting down in her rose garden and writing poems. She had always been silent and introspective, in a way wise beyond her years. Or as her mother put it 'like an old woman'.
The Princess then turned to the last coffin and found that it was empty. Inside was nothing more then a few crimson satin pillows, yet Zelda knew whom this one belonged too. This coffin was intended for her. Zelda stepped foreword, her boot sinking into the cool ankle high waters, and she quietly tread over to the glass tomb. It was so large, so inviting. Imagine just ending it all here and slipping into that peaceful bed forever. Zelda felt the tears boiling up within her and suddenly she caught a reflection in the shiny glass coffin. It was of a woman, tall and thin. Her cheeks were high and her skin was perfect and creamy. The woman, no older then seventeen, had long strands of golden hair that framed her graceful stern face. Pink tinted lips were set in a firm line and her expression was cold. The most haunting thing in this girl's reflection though, was her eyes. The light blue eyes were moist with tears and dreadfully heavy with sadness. They showed a cold soul, which held no comfort. Those eyes revealed in them a weariness, as if they'd long ago lost all hopes and dreams… Zelda knew exactly whose reflection that was yet she did not want to admit it to herself: admit that the tired cold young woman was really her and that those eyes which long ago her mother had said were wise, now just looked heavy with somber hopelessness and loneliness.
Zelda could feel her knees giving way and the tears come pouring forth like a downpour from the heavens. Overcome with emotions, the young Princess tried to clutch the side of her coffin with trembling hands for support, yet her grasp slipped and she fell to her knees. The water slid over her legs as the sobs wracked her body and the salty drops plummeted from her face to land with little splashes in the pond. Was it all coming to an end? Would Hyrule, and her soul, all become a possession to Ganondorf, greedy tyrant of the Desert Colossus? Would Zelda be forced to grovel on her hands and knees for the lives of her people and in turn shame her parents?
As the weeping subsided, the Princess pushed back the strands of hair from her damp face and looked up. There, appearing to tower over her like a radiant sun, was a statue of brilliant size. The white marble figure was of a saintly woman; adorned in a draping gown, a pair of feathery wings that jutted from her sleek back, and a crown of gold and blood red gems. She stared out with empty eyes at the world, a look of somber sadness stamped upon her perfect face, as her hands forever reached out to the world in a gesture of helplessness. Zelda was filled with a rage and frustration for feeling just as powerless as that angel did against the injustice being forced upon her land. Her teeth gritted together as the girl shakily stood with her fists clenched by her sides and her eyes ablaze with fiery flames. Her pants, littered with rose petals, dripped forth little beads of clear pond water and she stormed foreword. With an anguished scream, the young woman ran at the saintly angel and pushed it with all her might. The marble figure rocked back on its heels and came tumbling down with a thunderous crash and splatter of water. Zelda followed along with it, coming to land on her knees and hands. Tears came forth anew from her azure eyes as her fists beat the ground angrily and sadly. She'd destroyed the beautiful angel yet felt no less relieved of her grieve. Fragments of perfect white marble eyes and fingers and mouths sunk just below the water level and scattered around Zelda, making for her a bed of stone and red flower petals. The girl's leather outfit and black robe were both now completely soaked with water, as was the end tips of her flaxen hair. The sobs kept coming as her heart broke over and over. All the pain of watching both her people and her parents perish surfaced at that moment. She hadn't showed emotions for years now, she'd been to afraid to let anyone see how much sadness she held for fear it might make her vulnerable. Yet now, alone in the little garden, she let it all pour forth without care.
Her voice broken with wretched weeping, Zelda shouted as she peered up at the fake sunny sky (Jasmine: It's fake because this garden is enchanted. Outside its still snowing but here in this magical realm it's a beautiful summer day. Got it? ;o), "Why do you do this to me, Goddesses? I have offered upon you no ill will… so why then do you continue to spite and mock me? Haven't I lost enough to satisfy your dark hearts? I saw both my parent's demise before my young eyes and I've been made to hide under guise like a common thief in the night, must I lose my kingdom too?" Then with the look of anger and extreme grief in her, the girl stood in a fit of hysteria with the angel's wreath of gold and rubies clutched in her hand, the jutting gold cutting into her slick palm. Placing the sacred blood red crown upon her head hastily, the woman screeched, "Do you want to make a jester of me, Goddesses? Is that your plan, to make me look like a merry fool? Well, I'll give you your damn wish if you just spare my people! Do you hear me, you whores of fortune? I'll dance a gay jig wearing a crown of thorns in front of the Lord of Darkness himself if only my fine men and their wives and their tiny babes are harmed no more!" Her tears were flowing freely down the woman's face and she looked truly alive with sadness now.
Abruptly a voice broke into Zelda's weary head and made her jump in surprise. "Excuse me if I've interrupted anything, my Princess. But I feel it is my duty to inform you that the boy, our savior, has awoken," came a deep telepathic voice.
Zelda was still shaking and the news made her eyes go wide wildly. After a moment of letting the information sink in and her composure regain, the Princess sent back, "That is good news, Rauru. I can never thank you enough for all the help you have offered me in my quest to free Hyrule of its villainous ruler. I will try to get to the Temple of Time as soon as possible, until then please fill our Hero of Time in on what's occurred during his very long slumber."
"No doubt he will be confused after sleeping for seven years but I will do my best to impart to Link all of the valuable information he has missed."
"And that is all that I shall ask of you, good sir, for you have done far too much as it is in aiding my kingdom."
"I do as all humble servants of the crown and the path of light shall do. Our paths will certainly intertwine in the future, your Excellency. Until then, good fortune to you."
"Yes and favorable luck to you as well, wise Sage of Light."
She felt Rauru's authoritive presence leave her mind and her thoughts churned in excitement. Zelda could hardly hold in the anticipation of starting Link on his quest to banish Ganondorf and his dark minions from Hyrule. The Princess would attempt to help her brave warrior of course but only under the cover of her worthy disguise. Over the seven years she had been running from Ganondorf, she'd picked up a trick or two. One of these was perfecting the perfect guise to help in hiding. Zelda was now under the epithet of Shiek and here soul felt as it belonged to both she and the mysterious Shiekah warrior. Dressed under the traditional shadow people's outfit, Zelda could hide out until Ganon was once and for all defeated. Pending then, Link would have to wait to find out her true identity.
The Princess heard soft bells tolling in the distance and realized that it must be just becoming dawn in Hyrule. The Christmas morning bells in the Karokiki Square were peeling gaily to a world covered in downy white fluff. Even if most of the people in town were poor and homeless, they still kept the bells well maintained. Call it a flash of self-arrogance if you will or even pretentious pride; but perhaps its really all they have left now, those lovely rich bells that ring on Christmas morning, and they'd do anything but give up the last shred of their old lives.
A tiny slight smile slid over Zelda's face, the first allowed to glimmer across her pretty, grim features in months, as she stared at the pool of jagged broken marble and petals and remembered Mr. Kusumi. Her tall, gray haired teacher was a classic bookworm; totting plaid vests and tiny dusty spectacles. Mr. Kusumis brown eyes would twinkle as he ranted on and on about ancient literature and how plays in the old days actually held deep profound meaning unlike the garbage spluttered by the whippersnappers of today. Zelda really liked him, finding his comical frustrated dances around the classroom quit hilarious and also the young girl discovered solace in their common book-loving bond. Yet now the teenager thought with much amusement that Mr. Kusumi would have a great time finding all the metaphors and symbolism in this scene. "This Zelda character caused the statues ill-fated death in an attempt to relieve her own pent up helplessness at being unable to save her kingdom and her wearing of the crown is an example of this Princess's mocking of her own situation. Do you see how the breaking of the stone angel is actually an interpretation of Zelda's own feelings of her own image cracking and giving way to the cold person she is now?" Ah old Mr. Kusumi. He read books and analyzed life until the very end. Maybe even as he lay in bed with the plague, his last moments slowly ticking by in front of his eyes, he murmured to himself, "Death is just a black blanket which hides over mans' fear of the unknown. Life is like a cycle which churns and churns and never really ends, correct class? … Well is it class? Tell me!"
Zelda took the angel's crown off her head and looked at the glittering gold and crimson stoned crown. She raised it to her tender lips and offered up a kiss. Then in a whisper, she spoke faintly as a small breeze blew her black cloak in a swirl, "I apologize for ruining you as I did. Perhaps I will wear your crown one day and take over your quiet watch, my silent stone angel." Then the Princess placed the crown within the satin pillows of her coffin, "Until then, keep this bed warm for me alright?"
The young woman pulled her dark hood up over her head. She felt something within her; it was like a small little fire began to thaw out the ice in her heart. This could only be described in one word: hope. Turning to her dead parents with a small determined smile, she spoke softly, "Father and Mother, I will swear now upon my everlasting soul that I will make you proud. I will regain your land out from under the hands of tyranny and deliver Hyrule to the Realm of Light. I want you to know that… so you won't worry about me anymore. I'm fine. I can handle this… I love you both with all my being, not one moment goes by when I do not silently pray that you are safe and I will one day, long in the future, rejoin you again… And O yea, have a merry Christmas." Then Zelda turned and walked away, preparing herself for the epic journey that lay ahead.
Also I'm not positive if Hyrule even celebrates jolly old Christmas *probably not since it's a religious holiday* but what the heck, pretend they do.
Last issue *promise*: I used Zelda as my main character for this story, as you may see in many of my future fics. Why do I constantly use the Princess of Destiny as my main focal point? Well, frankly, I always thought of her as the most interesting character out of the whole Legend Of Zelda game. Granted she could be a bit more developed… but it always intrigued me how wise she was at such a young age. Zelda always struck me as a strong soul who bore all of the pains of her country silently and even after she too gave up her childhood *some people seem to think only Link gave up anything hmph* she never whined about it… Ok ok, I should just shut up now and stick to the story. Hehe.
Make this little author's Christmas wish come true, won't ya, and review her fanfic? ^_^
K done with the shameless pitiful begging *hehe* and onto the fic!
My Silent Stone Angel
A chill is in the brisk December air this Hyrule night and it casts upon the land a still cautious silence. The wind blows with tapered fingers of numbing ice to lick at the tendrils of long yellow grass and break their brittle bodies like the backs of aged men too weary of the world and its wicked ways. No creature dares stir in this perilous dark night, the land is empty of all but the wind and the moaning grass. It is the eve before Christmas here in Hyrule but you can hardly tell. No one is out celebrating and drinking Cucco Nog; it's all very silent and cold, like the night of a morbid funereal procession.
Up on Goron Mountain's boiling volcanic peak the winter's frost has been unable to reach. The hot suffocating smoke acts like a foggy blanket against the chill and also a sickening reminder that it isn't just a calm December night. The peaceful mountain inhabitants known as the Gorons live upon the hot volcano-like mountain as prisoners, desperately yearning to leave to seek help in cleansing their mountain of the evil within it, yet wearily aware that there is no help to be found out there in the cold tundra once known as Hyrule Kingdom. No laughter or gentle chitchat echoes across the deep cavernous homes up in Goron Mountain. The peaceful people sit in huddled masses of sadness, their children awake with wide wild eyes, nightmares plague them like locus.
The Zora's River too is also under the iron grip of a madman. The fast flowing water, which would usually only be coated over with a thin sheet of filmy ice, was now frozen thoroughly solid to the core. Even the poor silver scaled fish lay trapped motionless in the clear ice, their bodies like tiny relics to their unfortunate fates and the harsh reality of the time. The water people called the Zoras have even a worse fate then the Gorons. Their glimmering slippery blue fish-like bodies are now completely encased in thick ice, they are like statues who look out at their world with haunted eyes. Poor, desperate Zoras. Poor, desperate Gorons. Poor, desperate fish. At this wretched time everyone, except for a very small few, are equal in their state of being: poor and desperate.
Small crystal flakes of white pour forth from the graying heavens to gently cover the seared red earth like little pieces of hope and floating dreams; taken from the heads of children and scattered with the wind. If only that were true, if only dreams and hope were as easy to come by now as snow, and in the morning all the creatures of Hyrule could awake to see their houses coated in hope and faith of a new day. But alas, that isn't what these tiny small crystals are; they are just fluffy shards of ice, no less and no more… And the people who once would wake early in the morn to see the white landscape and the children who would giddily tramp upon the crisp snow, what of them? Their houses are scorched and torn apart and they are left homeless; forced to swallow their pride and beg for a rupee on the desolate streets. They are, as I've said before, like all other creatures, poor and desperate. Walking aimlessly with shabby clothing and bare feet, fatigued husks of the proud people they once were. Everything is so hopeless and lost now. O, how truly disheartening this time is.
A thin figure stands now with her back to the wind, allowing her dark black cloak to swirl like an empty shadow dancing with the cruel wind. This young woman, addressed as Zelda and once long ago as the Princess of Hyrule and now only known as dead, is silent and still, her posture demanding authority and drawing strength. She is not out at some gay Christmas Ball as she had done seven years ago nor does she feel any Christmas cheer. Tonight to her is just like any night: hopelessly dark and unforgiving. Little specks of snow dot the surface of her velvety rich robe and, because the top of her hood covers most of her face, just the rises of her sharp pail cheeks get dusted. A fringe of golden hued locks poke out from the edge of the hood and partake in the dance along with the cloak and the wind. Eyes, the hue of a beautiful clear ocean, stare out at the night sky and they are heavy with a quiet melancholy not usually acquainted with such beauty. Perhaps it is because what she is staring at so intently deserves such reverence.
It is Karikoko Graveyard (Jasmine: I have no idea if that's how its spelled), a place of destitution and lost souls. The wind howls like a beast and whips over the small yard, picking up pebbles from the woven dirt path and bright yellow peddles from the flowers offered to the memory of the dead. Row upon row of aged cracking gray gravestones huddle amongst one another as if they were a throng of old vagabonds gathering together for warmth. The snow flutters down yet offers no solace to the darkness and despair of this place. Maybe the snow knows that dozens of people ended up here, their lives and their dreams snuffed out like the golden flame of a candle… Or maybe the snow knows nothing at all except that here at Karikoko Graveyard is not one of the best places to end up.
"Kawwww!" screeched an oily raven high up in a barren tree and his call breaks the silence like a rock shattering a glass pane window. Zelda stepped foreword without a word, her small sharp boots scuffling across the trodden pathway, and walked between the gravestones as if she's seen this all before. In fact, she has. Every day actually. All of Hyrule is a graveyard now, a wasteland of people who believe they are as good as dead.
Princess Zelda came to the end of the yard and peered deep within a cavernous hole in the earth. With her blue tinted lips set firmly in a sort of grimace, the young woman walked within the entrance to the Royal Burial Tomb. Her boots click softly against the stone steps as Zelda scuttled down aided by a dim glowing torchlight and entered a grim cave. Solid stone walls rose up on all sides of the young woman like filthy prison fortifications and a white mist hovered just above the slippery floor. Horrifying age-tarnished human bones littered the ground in sickening disarray and as Zelda walked foreword her foot taped against a bleak skull. Before, such a scene as tramping upon the likes of human remains would have made the Princess's stomach churn. However, now it was only mildly revolting. She'd endured much worse then this. Losing your kingdom to a madman: very horrible. Losing your father to a madman: painfully horrible. Losing your pride and identity to this very same madman: excruciatingly unbearable. Kicking up your heels with dead people: a walk in the park. Yea, Zelda could deal.
The Princess of Hyrule carefully trod over to an encrypted wall at the far end of the Royal Family Tomb and studied it in the glowing light provided by two smoldering torches. Crude notes were engraved in the solid stone wall and Zelda ran here small hand over the indented symbols. The dripping of water echoed across the room and the Princess deftly reached within the confines of her cloak to retrieve a small object. A fragile sparkling golden harp with strings woven from the mane of a mystical beast glimmered in the light. Zelda lifted her beautiful instrument up to her chest and began to play a melody so soft and sweet that it seemed alien in a place such as this. The notes flitted like pretty robins up to the rooms ceiling and Zelda closed her eyes, letting her hands move with graceful strokes across the fine harp strands. The song suddenly ended and bright yellow light, like the pure fires of the sun, burst forth on all sides. And then as quickly as it began, the beautiful song and the blazing light vanished, leaving the barren tomb to feel even emptier then before. The Princess slowly opened her eyes, still relishing the slow movements of the melody within her brain, and saw that the wall had slide open. Without hesitation, Zelda stepped beyond the walls of the dreary tomb…
And into a lovely garden! Tall lush hedges bordered a large green plot covered in beautiful big flowers and small sweet fruit trees. White doves coed quietly to one another and tiny iridescent hummingbirds hovered over pink nectar-filled flowers. It was all so gloriously maintained and well-kept that Zelda immediately got the dizzying sensation as if she were back at the Castle, spending a lazy afternoon in her rose garden. The Princess slowly pulled down her hood to reveal a head of overflowing silky blonde hair and blue eyes filled with awe and cautious danger. The garden air was thick with the scent of sugary sweet floral and somewhere close by the sound of soft flowing water could be heard. Zelda's long leather pant clad legs strided foreword uneasily upon a bright red brick path that winded into oblivion. This place was eerily perfect, like an alternate realm to the war-torn land that lay just above.
The Sage of Wisdom cleared the first row of bushes and took a sharp breath of air. There just a few feet from were she stood lay three glass coffins, lidless, and two contained the death-frozen bodies of Zelda's parents. A small pool of crystal blue water with tiny blood red petals floating on the surface surrounded the coffins and a tall marble statue of an angel. The young woman gazed at the tombs of her parents and felt the grief lurk up within her heart.
There was her father, the proud King of Hyrule; his strong body now laid still. A royal tunic of blue accessorized with a golden sash across his broad shoulders gave the mature fifty-year-old man a look of commanding authority. The King's square chin dusted with a thick blonde beard jutted out in a form of dignity, even in death. Zelda bite her lip to stop the tears from flowing. When she was just a young tot, no older then four, she'd sit some moments on her father's lap in the Throne Room. During these quiet times, which were so unusual because of their busy schedules, the King of Hyrule would look out the large window adjacent to his gorgeous golden gilded throne and gently rock his darling Zelda on his knee. The young girl, on the fringe of an afternoon nap, would suck on her other thumb lazily and run her chubby hand through her father's beard, enjoying in its bristly warm touch. Now she was sure his beard was cold and brittle, not at all as she remembered it.
In the middle coffin of shiny glass lay Zelda's mother, beautiful even frozen in death. Since she had died young her perfect pail skin was taut and silky, tiny glimmering diamonds sprinkled over her chest and cheeks. Her hair was held back in a crown of two flaxen braids woven together in the back and a large creamy white flower lay behind one of her ears. Her small thin arms were crossed over her chest in a look of glorious saint-hood and she wore a beautiful gown of pure white, embroidered with gold and diamonds. Her eyes were closed but Zelda knew that if they were open then they would look just how she had remembered them to be: a pair of clear oceans cascading with nurturing love. A memory echoed within the girl's skull like a pebble being thrown from the lip of a chasm. They were at Zelda third birthday party, a lavish gay event, and Zelda's mother was talking to another woman. "Eyes like an old woman, my little Zel has," The Queen said. The tiny Zelda gave her mom a questioning look and asked in her childish voice what that was supposed to mean. In response, the Queen lifted her tiny daughter up into her arms and kissed her upon the forehead, cooing, "It means you have far more wisdom in that small head of yours then a whole cleric! It's like when I stare into that tiny angelic face of yours, I'm staring into another world, one far more complex and intricate then my own." What the young woman had said made no sense to her small child at the time, yet now Zelda understood. She'd seen that also in herself; how as a child she liked nothing more then sitting down in her rose garden and writing poems. She had always been silent and introspective, in a way wise beyond her years. Or as her mother put it 'like an old woman'.
The Princess then turned to the last coffin and found that it was empty. Inside was nothing more then a few crimson satin pillows, yet Zelda knew whom this one belonged too. This coffin was intended for her. Zelda stepped foreword, her boot sinking into the cool ankle high waters, and she quietly tread over to the glass tomb. It was so large, so inviting. Imagine just ending it all here and slipping into that peaceful bed forever. Zelda felt the tears boiling up within her and suddenly she caught a reflection in the shiny glass coffin. It was of a woman, tall and thin. Her cheeks were high and her skin was perfect and creamy. The woman, no older then seventeen, had long strands of golden hair that framed her graceful stern face. Pink tinted lips were set in a firm line and her expression was cold. The most haunting thing in this girl's reflection though, was her eyes. The light blue eyes were moist with tears and dreadfully heavy with sadness. They showed a cold soul, which held no comfort. Those eyes revealed in them a weariness, as if they'd long ago lost all hopes and dreams… Zelda knew exactly whose reflection that was yet she did not want to admit it to herself: admit that the tired cold young woman was really her and that those eyes which long ago her mother had said were wise, now just looked heavy with somber hopelessness and loneliness.
Zelda could feel her knees giving way and the tears come pouring forth like a downpour from the heavens. Overcome with emotions, the young Princess tried to clutch the side of her coffin with trembling hands for support, yet her grasp slipped and she fell to her knees. The water slid over her legs as the sobs wracked her body and the salty drops plummeted from her face to land with little splashes in the pond. Was it all coming to an end? Would Hyrule, and her soul, all become a possession to Ganondorf, greedy tyrant of the Desert Colossus? Would Zelda be forced to grovel on her hands and knees for the lives of her people and in turn shame her parents?
As the weeping subsided, the Princess pushed back the strands of hair from her damp face and looked up. There, appearing to tower over her like a radiant sun, was a statue of brilliant size. The white marble figure was of a saintly woman; adorned in a draping gown, a pair of feathery wings that jutted from her sleek back, and a crown of gold and blood red gems. She stared out with empty eyes at the world, a look of somber sadness stamped upon her perfect face, as her hands forever reached out to the world in a gesture of helplessness. Zelda was filled with a rage and frustration for feeling just as powerless as that angel did against the injustice being forced upon her land. Her teeth gritted together as the girl shakily stood with her fists clenched by her sides and her eyes ablaze with fiery flames. Her pants, littered with rose petals, dripped forth little beads of clear pond water and she stormed foreword. With an anguished scream, the young woman ran at the saintly angel and pushed it with all her might. The marble figure rocked back on its heels and came tumbling down with a thunderous crash and splatter of water. Zelda followed along with it, coming to land on her knees and hands. Tears came forth anew from her azure eyes as her fists beat the ground angrily and sadly. She'd destroyed the beautiful angel yet felt no less relieved of her grieve. Fragments of perfect white marble eyes and fingers and mouths sunk just below the water level and scattered around Zelda, making for her a bed of stone and red flower petals. The girl's leather outfit and black robe were both now completely soaked with water, as was the end tips of her flaxen hair. The sobs kept coming as her heart broke over and over. All the pain of watching both her people and her parents perish surfaced at that moment. She hadn't showed emotions for years now, she'd been to afraid to let anyone see how much sadness she held for fear it might make her vulnerable. Yet now, alone in the little garden, she let it all pour forth without care.
Her voice broken with wretched weeping, Zelda shouted as she peered up at the fake sunny sky (Jasmine: It's fake because this garden is enchanted. Outside its still snowing but here in this magical realm it's a beautiful summer day. Got it? ;o), "Why do you do this to me, Goddesses? I have offered upon you no ill will… so why then do you continue to spite and mock me? Haven't I lost enough to satisfy your dark hearts? I saw both my parent's demise before my young eyes and I've been made to hide under guise like a common thief in the night, must I lose my kingdom too?" Then with the look of anger and extreme grief in her, the girl stood in a fit of hysteria with the angel's wreath of gold and rubies clutched in her hand, the jutting gold cutting into her slick palm. Placing the sacred blood red crown upon her head hastily, the woman screeched, "Do you want to make a jester of me, Goddesses? Is that your plan, to make me look like a merry fool? Well, I'll give you your damn wish if you just spare my people! Do you hear me, you whores of fortune? I'll dance a gay jig wearing a crown of thorns in front of the Lord of Darkness himself if only my fine men and their wives and their tiny babes are harmed no more!" Her tears were flowing freely down the woman's face and she looked truly alive with sadness now.
Abruptly a voice broke into Zelda's weary head and made her jump in surprise. "Excuse me if I've interrupted anything, my Princess. But I feel it is my duty to inform you that the boy, our savior, has awoken," came a deep telepathic voice.
Zelda was still shaking and the news made her eyes go wide wildly. After a moment of letting the information sink in and her composure regain, the Princess sent back, "That is good news, Rauru. I can never thank you enough for all the help you have offered me in my quest to free Hyrule of its villainous ruler. I will try to get to the Temple of Time as soon as possible, until then please fill our Hero of Time in on what's occurred during his very long slumber."
"No doubt he will be confused after sleeping for seven years but I will do my best to impart to Link all of the valuable information he has missed."
"And that is all that I shall ask of you, good sir, for you have done far too much as it is in aiding my kingdom."
"I do as all humble servants of the crown and the path of light shall do. Our paths will certainly intertwine in the future, your Excellency. Until then, good fortune to you."
"Yes and favorable luck to you as well, wise Sage of Light."
She felt Rauru's authoritive presence leave her mind and her thoughts churned in excitement. Zelda could hardly hold in the anticipation of starting Link on his quest to banish Ganondorf and his dark minions from Hyrule. The Princess would attempt to help her brave warrior of course but only under the cover of her worthy disguise. Over the seven years she had been running from Ganondorf, she'd picked up a trick or two. One of these was perfecting the perfect guise to help in hiding. Zelda was now under the epithet of Shiek and here soul felt as it belonged to both she and the mysterious Shiekah warrior. Dressed under the traditional shadow people's outfit, Zelda could hide out until Ganon was once and for all defeated. Pending then, Link would have to wait to find out her true identity.
The Princess heard soft bells tolling in the distance and realized that it must be just becoming dawn in Hyrule. The Christmas morning bells in the Karokiki Square were peeling gaily to a world covered in downy white fluff. Even if most of the people in town were poor and homeless, they still kept the bells well maintained. Call it a flash of self-arrogance if you will or even pretentious pride; but perhaps its really all they have left now, those lovely rich bells that ring on Christmas morning, and they'd do anything but give up the last shred of their old lives.
A tiny slight smile slid over Zelda's face, the first allowed to glimmer across her pretty, grim features in months, as she stared at the pool of jagged broken marble and petals and remembered Mr. Kusumi. Her tall, gray haired teacher was a classic bookworm; totting plaid vests and tiny dusty spectacles. Mr. Kusumis brown eyes would twinkle as he ranted on and on about ancient literature and how plays in the old days actually held deep profound meaning unlike the garbage spluttered by the whippersnappers of today. Zelda really liked him, finding his comical frustrated dances around the classroom quit hilarious and also the young girl discovered solace in their common book-loving bond. Yet now the teenager thought with much amusement that Mr. Kusumi would have a great time finding all the metaphors and symbolism in this scene. "This Zelda character caused the statues ill-fated death in an attempt to relieve her own pent up helplessness at being unable to save her kingdom and her wearing of the crown is an example of this Princess's mocking of her own situation. Do you see how the breaking of the stone angel is actually an interpretation of Zelda's own feelings of her own image cracking and giving way to the cold person she is now?" Ah old Mr. Kusumi. He read books and analyzed life until the very end. Maybe even as he lay in bed with the plague, his last moments slowly ticking by in front of his eyes, he murmured to himself, "Death is just a black blanket which hides over mans' fear of the unknown. Life is like a cycle which churns and churns and never really ends, correct class? … Well is it class? Tell me!"
Zelda took the angel's crown off her head and looked at the glittering gold and crimson stoned crown. She raised it to her tender lips and offered up a kiss. Then in a whisper, she spoke faintly as a small breeze blew her black cloak in a swirl, "I apologize for ruining you as I did. Perhaps I will wear your crown one day and take over your quiet watch, my silent stone angel." Then the Princess placed the crown within the satin pillows of her coffin, "Until then, keep this bed warm for me alright?"
The young woman pulled her dark hood up over her head. She felt something within her; it was like a small little fire began to thaw out the ice in her heart. This could only be described in one word: hope. Turning to her dead parents with a small determined smile, she spoke softly, "Father and Mother, I will swear now upon my everlasting soul that I will make you proud. I will regain your land out from under the hands of tyranny and deliver Hyrule to the Realm of Light. I want you to know that… so you won't worry about me anymore. I'm fine. I can handle this… I love you both with all my being, not one moment goes by when I do not silently pray that you are safe and I will one day, long in the future, rejoin you again… And O yea, have a merry Christmas." Then Zelda turned and walked away, preparing herself for the epic journey that lay ahead.