Behind the Legend: Chapter 1: Bad Humor, Confusing Writing, Long Winded Paragraphs, and How it all Began

Greetings to anybody reading this fanfiction. I am Helvetius, a new author, so as a result this story's format might be a jot out of format. For one thing, what in the world is a "Document Label?" How in the world do you change fonts? How do people get those nifty little paragraph dividers into their stories? In any case, I hope you enjoy this story.

Also, if you plan on flaming this work, don't. Message me and I'll debate you on the forums, unless, of course, nobody does that here. I am, after all, a new author. In any case, Behind the Legend is a story about roughly every other story out there... and after a while, you'll see exactly what I mean. I'd laugh evilly, but that's extremely hard to pull off on a computer screen.

(…): Editor's Note: Imagine one of those annoyingly calm narrator type people from documentaries about penguins or the origin of salami or whatever saying this. This also refers to a scene transition.

Disclaimer: Because I have to add this. Let me ask you, if I owned any part of Legend of Zelda (besides the games and Official Nintendo publications like Player's Guides), would I be writing this satire about it and complaining about how twisted the (nonexistent) timeline is? No. I'd be changing it myself. So, in other words, I do not own any part of Legend of Zelda aside from the products stated above. Sue me at your peril, Miyamoto.

An imperceptible hum… and in unfathomable darkness, a computer screen flares to life.

In unfathomable darkness, luminous black on black…

In unfathomable darkness, the origin of everything outside oblivion…

In unfathomable darkness, these words are born: "A world behind worlds. A world beside worlds. A world above worlds. A world…"

(Hyrule, the Realm of Light)

The sun was shining in Hyrule, the sort of sun which only could possibly exist during peacetime: serene, comfortingly warm, and omnipresent. The birds were peacefully chirping, a slight breeze wended its way through the grass, and a sky coated with a deep azure stretched across the horizon. The scene was picturesque enough to so as to make an evil mastermind scream in anguish.

(The Dark Realm, formerly known as the Sacred Realm)

At that moment, deep in the Sacred Realm, one Ganondorf Dragmire, self-styled evil mastermind, homicidal maniac, and criminal mastermind, was screaming in anguish.

"Why (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) why me?! Damn that (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) Hero and that (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) Princess and those (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) Goddesses (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) it all (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) (bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep)(bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep)!"

The scream echoed out from an open window of the sort that people often fall to their deaths out of during cheap murder theater, only to have some mustachioed nutcase with a British Accent© proclaim "Curious, curious" and stroke his goatee. This window happened to be situated in the sort of evil castle most evil villains seem to always live in; a combination of black, spiky towers straight out of a diseased Disney imagination and ominous, shadowy ruins straight out of a stereotypical sci-fi novel about the Apocalypse.

This particular evil fortress happened to be located in the middle of a desert wasteland which could only be described as the evil twin of the Gerudo Desert; the sun beat down harder, the monsters hit harder, and everything shone with a sinister and yet benign golden light: the so-called Golden Realm, parallel to Hyrule, now transformed into a realm of evil by the sheer malevolence of Ganondorf. Surrounding it for miles were clusters of crude barracks, stables, and camps where monsters… Ganondorf's minions lived, trained, and mostly bickered with each other over what they were bickering over.

Ganondorf stopped screaming and instead punched another hole in the wall. Golden light shone through it onto the dark ground, completing a C, which was directly next to a RAP. This coincidentally described exactly how Ganondorf was feeling at the moment (AN: Blatant ripoff of a similar concept in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I know). He was surrounded by complete and utter idiots and he knew it. Why couldn't his servants be intelligent, useful minions instead of half-witted hordes of monsters with three brains to split between the lot of them? Why couldn't even his most intelligent, devious, and destructive plans succeed to lay waste to Hyrule? And why was he constantly fated to get royally destroyed by a princess and some random kid with a sword?

Brooding in the sort of manner only a defeated Republican after elections could imitate, the Prince of Darkness stalked up a circular set of stairs, clutching at his cape and resembling nothing so much as a moving, blackened blob of tapioca. Pausing momentarily to throw something at the writer of this piece (it hurt, too) for his inaccurate, humorless, and ridiculous analogies, he slithered through a dark archway with the words "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" on it and entered the fortress cafeteria. An extremely tacky looking sign on the wall notified anybody who cared that today's lunch consisted of "grub." Another sign below it notified anybody else that the cafeteria was currently accepting job applications and that no experience was necessary.

Ignoring the sign, Ganondorf strode directly into the kitchen, where a lone Darknut wearing a pink apron sat in a folding chair shuffling papers like a doctor about to tell somebody they had three hours to live and a lone Moblin with a large cleaver sat hacking up something unspeakable. Several apparently dead or comatose Bokoblins lay sprawled at various locations around the kitchen.

Ganondorf did a double-take: "What happened to your assistants??"

The Moblin shook his head and displayed a grin that would have sent sane men gibbering into the bushes. "Former assistants. They now today's mystery meat." The Darknut frowned and spoke in a British Accent©: "Apparently, the job was too stressful. We came in one day and the lot had peacefully snuffed it. In any case, what brings you down here to the…" he searched his mind for the word… "…kitchens today?"

Ganondorf gave a slight groan. "I need a pick-me-up. I'm completely and utterly tired of getting the living tar beaten out of me by that blasted green-wearing pointy-eared sword-wielding Hero. What's the point of having the Triforce of Power when you're destined to be destiny's whipping boy?" The Darknut nodded sagely as he handed Ganondorf something which looked, above all, dangerously radioactive, which Ganondorf promptly began to nurse.

Half an hour later, Ganondorf was dead drunk.

"And then, he came running up the stairs waving his sword like some goddamn hooligan, and you should have seen the expression on his face while I was giving my usual long speech about superiority and how much he sucked: kind of like somebody barely restraining himself from pounding me into oblivion while also realizing he had just stepped in dog feces during a visit to his mother in law," Ganondorf howled raucously, in the manner of somebody who, aside from being extremely drunk, was also possibly German, Howard Dean, or a dying hyena. He paused to down another mug of the radioactive liquid.

"And then he pounded me into oblivion." He continued. The Darknut had long resigned himself to filling more and more mugs for the increasingly depressed Ganondorf and the Moblin was doing something unmentionable with dead Bokoblins, a meat cleaver, mustard, and loafs of pumpernickel. 5 more minutes passed in silence. In the distance, an owl hooted. Fifteen bright purple eagles juggling tomatoes on unicycles waltzed past.

In Ganondorf's twisted and completely drunk mind, the owl started saying "Loser. Loser, loser, loser." He abruptly sat up, winged his mug at the owl, arranged his cape, and said, "Er… where am I?" In the corner of his eye, the owl seemed to now be making an "L" sign on his forehead.

"The Sacred Realm, sir."

"Really? When?" said Ganondorf.

"Since 35 minutes ago sir. I believe another one of your brilliant plots failed again. Thwarted by a boy with a funny green hat, by all description."

Ganondorf stared.

"I want you to tell me right now that I have been drunk for the past 35 minutes."

"You have been drunk for the past 35 minutes."

"Really? Well then, everything's fine then. I'm sorry gentlemen, but I have been dead drunk for the past 35 minutes. And get me the numbers of those purple eagles. I have some evil plotting to do." He turned stiffly and walked out of the kitchen after hitting a table, the Darknut, and tripping over his own feet multiple times. He grabbed blearily for his glasses before remembering he didn't have glasses, somehow failed to grasp the doorknob, put on his nonexistent hat, and eventually discovered to his surprise that the door was already open. Gracefully falling down the stairs and ripping his cape on a brazier, Ganondorf made his way into his personal study by falling through two mahogany double doors set in an iron archway.

The iron archway had written on it, "This archway has something written on it."

Beyond the ominous doors which Ganondorf had personally stolen and sawed down from Hyrule Castle (ignoring the carved images of heroic previous kings of Hyrule), was a circular study. Bookcases were arranged around the walls; a dark mahogany desk (also stolen from Hyrule Castle) centered in the room had a plaque saying "Kneel here, worthless scum (interestingly, he had obtained that from Hyrule Castle as well…)." The many paintings arranged around the room included subjects such as Napoleon, a trip to the dentist's, a dying hyena, an autographed poster of Sauron, Medical School, and Dick Cheney shooting a lawyer; they were all located between tall, Gothic windows equally spaced in the walls. Ganondorf stalked directly past the lot and sat in a comfortable swiveling armchair which he had specifically stolen from one of those movies where the evil mastermind is always seen sitting silhouetted against a flickering fire while petting a white cat, until he swivels (somehow managing this in a comfortable beige armchair) and reveals he's a balding, senile old man in desperate need of a life.

Several picture frames on the wall contained a Degree in Mad Science, a Degree in Evil Plotting, a Degree in World Domination, and 6 consecutive annual awards for "Most Evil Study Ever." The doors, closing automatically, revealed a picture of Link and Princess Zelda behind them riddled with darts. Ganondorf proceeded directly to the bookcases, donned a set of battered reading glasses, and proceeded to search for something to base his latest evil plot off of.

His eyes skated past the Communist Manifesto; they glided through Mein Kampf; they failed to notice My Life, by Bill Clinton. He needed something truly evil, distracting, or both. Pausing in the Living Hell section, he spotted nestling between a Study Guide for the AP Government and Civics Test and a Martha Stewart Cookbook the epic of Faust. Hm. Faust. Where communists, Nazis, and disgraced Democrats had failed, perhaps something from another dimension with unholy power wouldn't. Ganondorf shifted over to the Summoning section.

"Hmmm. Summoning for The Uninformed Moron? The Complete and Unabridged Guide to Summoning? Demons, Devils, and Other Unearthly Minions: A Comprehensive Guide to Summoning? Martha Stewart's Fail-Proof Summoning Study? Summon Your Face? I'll Summon Your Face, the Sequel to Summon Your Face? Barron's Guide to the AP Summoning Test?" Ganondorf pulled out the lot and discovered he needed some sort of large, evil cauldron, and so he found himself stalking the lonely road down to the kitchen once more. A sudden thought struck him and he resolved to have a hospital built next to it. As he entered, the Darknut looked up again.

"Hm. Two visits by somebody by choice in one day. This is getting suspicious," muttered the Darknut.. "How can we help you, sir?"

"I need a cauldron, you know, the sort that demented, cliché witches stir bubbling potions in with wooden ladles and chuck stuff like frog guts in. Kind of like that huge one in the corner." And without waiting, Ganondorf promptly kicked everybody (i.e. the Darknut) out of the kitchen, set Martha Stewart's Fail-Proof Summoning Study on a table, whipped on the Darknut's left-behind apron, and set about searching for frog guts. After about three hours of fruitless searching and experimenting (during which he only managed to turn his hair neon pink), he was forced to admit that, despite the reputation of this kitchen, there were no frog guts… but then he remembered his minion, the Arrghus Frog (AN: From Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess). The guy had been asking for it anyway. Ganondorf cracked his knuckles, grinned like a killer jack-o-lantern, and set off to find his unlucky servant.

At the precise moment Ganondorf was pounding the Arrghus Frog into oblivion with all manner of sharp objects and surgical instruments, our friend the cannibalistic Moblin wandered into the kitchen, gripping his meat cleaver and several more extremely unfortunate Bokoblins. Today's mystery meat stew was going to be a real masterpiece.

Hmm. That's strange. His cauldron already seemed to be filled some sort of ominously glowing liquid. Somebody must have already made the gruel. Throwing in a variety of other revolting ingredients, including but not limited to Mao Zedong's Little Red Book, a McDonald's Happy Meal©, Pokemon Battle Revolution© for the Nintendo Wii©, rancid chicken broth, college applications, and toothpaste, he suddenly realized he needed some frog guts. He quickly stepped out of the suspiciously glowing pentacle chalked on the ground and shambled towards the door.

Halfway there, he was only mildly surprised to be nearly run over by a maniacally grinning, pink-haired, apron-wearing, gore splattered evil mastermind clutching what looked to be somebody's intestines, despite the fact that the somebody concerned had probably needed them to live a happy life before being killed mercilessly by a green-wearing Legolas wannabe with a sword. Ganondorf remorselessly pelted into the kitchen, dumped in his grisly package, stepped back, and promptly commenced intoning the necessary demonic incantations.

The Moblin shrugged and left.

In the meantime Ganondorf stepped back, did some Irish step dancing, played Finlandia on an accordion, kowtowed in all four cardinal directions, found Waldo in a book entirely in Braille, played an astonishing game of Twister against a French contortionist, and successfully made a Martha Stewart grade soufflé, all the while chanting President Bush's State of the Union address. Backwards. Finally, he donned a black, hooded cloak, waved his hands around, and muttered:

"This chant has only six words. This chant has only six words. This chant has only six words…"

An explosion of florid, bright pink smoke rocked the kitchen, followed by several ominous flashes of lightning, a deep voice humming the Twilight Zone© theme, and a fell wind carrying the smell of mustard on candy apples. And then… the first of many dark, shadowy forms began to flow out of the glowing pentacle. A deep voice (strangely, the same voice that had been humming the Twilight Zone© theme) suddenly spoke.

Was this supposed to happen?

"Thank you for choosing America Online for all your Internet needs, with our new super-saver package which includes Internet, cable television, and an America Online T-Shirt all for the low, low price of $34.99 a month. Restrictions may apply. My name is Bob. Welcome to the America Online easy first-time Internet sign-up via Internet, America Online's newest way of serving our customers. You are our first customer, so you have won a free year's supply of new and improved America Online cereal, now with 33 less carcinogens and 33 more marshmallows. Would you like me to help you with signing up for your new and improved America Online internet service?"

Ganondorf was wondering whether this meant "What is thy bidding, master" in some demonic tongue. In any case, he muttered something along the lines of "yes."

"Thank you. Please state your name, company, home address, phone number, and email. America Online will not give out any of this information without your explicit permission. America Online will only use this information to register your new connection."

"Er…"

"Your name, sir?"

"Ah… Ganondorf Dragmire."

"Thank you, Mr. Dragmire. What company do you work for?"

"Um…" Maybe he ought to try and psyche the guy out.

"Are you employed?"

"Taking over the world is harder than you think."

"I'll put you down as self-employed, then. Address?"

Ganondorf peered out the window to the front door, where one of his female minions had only recently put up a stylish wooden sign detailing the address. "Er… 666 Death Row, Dead End, Sacred Realm, zip code 666666."

"Excellent, sir. Do you have an email address?"

"Huh?"

"The email address section is only optional. Do you wish to give your email address?"

"Uh…" Ganondorf thought desperately. "No." He vaguely wondered if the right person was calling the shots right now.

"Thank you. Your connection has been approved. Thank you for choosing America Online for all your internet needs. Please have a nice day, Mr. Dragmire."

"Uh, you too, Bob." What followed was a series of strange, mechanical sounds (AN: the tone you always hear for dial-up). The light emanating from the pentacle abruptly turned blue. All of the sudden, a voice boomed out from the pentacle, a voice so as to shake the heavens, a voice which spoke of how lousy it is to be dragged to hell and back with a hangover, a voice of such commercial evil so as to make a Mom-and-Pop store quake in its figurative boots.

The voice optimistically said: "You've got mail." Ganondorf shuddered as the hellish blue light spread to engulf the entire world…

(Elsewhere)

Elsewhere, in a dark room lit only by a computer screen, these words appeared on the screen.

Ganondorf.Dragmire has been registered.

The person sitting at the screen suddenly froze, wondering at those words. His hands wandered over the keyboard neatly spelling out "xqfmgb". His eyes, shocked, watched as more and more words appeared.

Edward.the.Darknut has been registered.

MoeMoblin has been registered.

Moblinmasta1881has been registered.

Bokoblinownsall has been registered.

JimmytheOctorok has been registered...

More email addresses spread down the screen. They began to be listed faster, faster as the blue light spread with further intensity, washing over trees and flowers, monsters and people, spreading up towards even the heavens...

Din.the.Awesome.Goddess has been registered.

NayrupwnsDin has been registered.

Farore.the.Goddessmeister has been registered...

The blue light traversed the ancient seal, shattering it as the light continued to flow over Hyrule like an unstoppable tidal wave. The light passed through Hyrule Castle.

Ihatebeingaservant has been registered.

Princess.Zelda has been registered.

Pointless.NPC.00001 has been registered...

… it flowed through Zora's Domain, Death Mountain, the Kokiri Forest…

Great.Deku.Tree has been registered.

LetsturnintoBirdPeople.SaystheZora has been registered.

Ilikerox has been registered.

Well.no.$#!.youre.a.Goron has been registered...

… and, at the farthest reaches of Hyrule, passed over even the most adventurous of souls…

Link.Hero.of.Time has been registered.

Navi.Annoying.Fairy has been registered.

Epona.Unkillable.Horse has been registered.

Having spread over all of Hyrule, the blue light subsided and faded as if it was never there, but in one place, deep in the kitchen of Ganondorf's headquarters in the Sacred Realm, it still pulsated evilly. Having completed its "scan" of all Hyrule, these words appeared on the computer.

zelda (AN: dot) com has been created.

The man leaned back, perplexed. He tried to delete the strange new files, but to no avail. He ran several virus scans, but everything came up clean. Checking the folder provided an insanely detailed list of sprites and entities… almost like a video game, only roughly 500 million times more complicated. He was just about to call a computer repairman when a man wearing a black greatcoat over a black business suit with a black tie, carrying a black briefcase, and wearing black sunglasses walked through his door, despite the fact that it had been locked and bolted and located on the penthouse floor of a heavily guarded and obscenely expensive apartment complex. Something glinted on his coat: a silver pin on the man's lapel said 0000001. The newcomer walked purposefully over to the man and said, with a perfectly straight, unemotional face:

"I have a preposition for you, sir." A gloved (black gloves; what else?) hand clamped down on his shoulder, telling him it would be a very bad idea not to accept. The man gulped visibly and nodded.

(Fade out)

Tune in next installment for the answers to the many questions I'm sure all of you have! Like, what exactly did Ganondorf do? What does AOL have to do with it? Who's the mysterious, stereotypically shadowy figure (clue: it's not an important OC. Both figures will appear in fleeting glimpses)? Why can't the author of this fiasco write anything that makes sense?

In any case, I should also probably clarify about a certain detail that somehow edited out of this fiction. After each of the above "something has been registered" lines, it should have read "something zelda dot com dot exe dot exe." For some stupid reason, fanfiction dot net (I'm guessing it's because it reads it as a URL, so I'm saying "dot") kept editing that out. Also, the last line should have read "zelda dot com dot exe dot exe has been created." Everything will eventually be clarified.

In any case, if you wish to review, please do so.