The Song of Storms
By the Storyteller of Nexus
Chapter 1: Call the Storm
Call the storm
Call the rain
Gently coming down again
Listen to my song
Heed the Song of Storms
Hide the Sun
From this plane
Cleanse the land of its stain
Listen to the Song
Of Storms
-First verse of The Song of Storms, as composed by The Bard
In the land of Hyrule, it is impossible to divorce magic and song. Some believe that all forms of magic are echoes of the unknowable music of the Gods. Likewise, a harmonious melody stirs the soul in a way to inspire the supernatural. This is why often the most respected magicians in Hyrule serve as the court composers of the royal family. Their studies on the secrets of song have given them knowledge on teleportation, animal husbandry, and even limited control of time itself.
However, all magicians and composers alike pay their respects to a mythic hero of Hyrule, predating the lineage of the Hero of Time. This man is simply known as the Bard. Some believe he was the first to divine sorcery from song, while others preach that his songs so impressed the Gods, they granted him power through his music.
This is his story.
In a time before the Hyrulean royal family seized control of the land, the Hylian people lived in fear and awe of the natural world. Some wandered, following herds of great beasts in their migrations. Others banded together in small communities, seeking to tame the land and harvest its fruits.
One band settled in a valley north of the great planes of central Hyrule. Here they built strong, sturdy homes, and planted crops to feed themselves and their livestock. For a time, these people prospered, and life was good. But as the years passed, the weather became less predictable, and harvests were lost to both torrential downpour and arid droughts.
While contemplating the unpredictable wrath of nature, a young man strummed his harp in the field. He was so lost in the sound of his playing that he had not noticed the storm clouds coming in. Thunder clapped over the fields, and shook the man from his trance. As he ran back to his village, he listened to the howl of the wind and rhythm of the rainfall. However vaguely, the man registered a pattern, an almost melody to the noise. For the rest of the day, he concealed himself in his home, trying to unearth the song from the noise of the storm.
This man was of course the legendary Bard, although at this time he was little more than a simple musician. Given the harsh nature of the land, musical skill was not seen to be nearly as important as the ability to plow a field, or chop down lumber. But the Bard was unique in his skill with song, and sought mastery over his craft. The other members of his village did not understand his obsession, and believed he was foolish to pursue such a silly path in such troubled times, but the Bard was a man of great passion, and he would not be dissuaded from his work.
By evening, the Bard had worked out a simple, wordless tune. As he played, the storm dissipated, and for an instant, the sun came out. Then a forceful knock pounded the door of the Bard's home. The Bard stood up to open the door.
As soon as he turned the knob, a great wind blew the door open. Standing in the door was a feminine figure, garbed in billowing gray robes. Swirling around her was a mist that continued to rain. Her hair was icy-blue, and her skin very pale. She wore a stern expression on her face, and seemed to radiate an unworldly power. She looked directly at the Bard.
"May I come in, sir?" she said, sounding remarkably airy for someone so grim looking.
The Bard had to take a second to register what he was seeing, and only then could he stammer out, "Y-yes, of course..."
The woman nodded graciously as she stepped into his home. The raining gray mist held for a moment, and then absorbed into the woman, stopping the rain. She took a seat at the Bard's table.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" offered the Bard. He rarely had guests, especially one so strange as this. However, he believed the proper manners should still be observed.
"Yes, that would be lovely," replied the mysterious woman.
Without speaking further, the Bard began boiling water. When the tea was ready, he poured a cup for himself and one for his guest, then worked up the nerve to speak.
"Excuse me, but why have you come to visit me?"
The woman looked vacant for a moment, then said, "I heard your song. It felt good to hear, like it was the music I have heard my whole life, but have only begun to understand... Will you... play it again for me, please?"
The Bard hesitated, then picked up his harp, and strummed the melody he had created. As he played, the woman's eyes widened, and the room darkened as the mist returned around her. Gusts of wind came from nowhere in particular, and blew over objects throughout the room. As rain began to fall within his home, the Bard ended his song. He turned to address his guest.
"While I love having an audience with appreciation for my work, I'm afraid you're making quite a mess of my home!"
At once, the wind and rain stopped, and receded back into the woman. "I'm terribly sorry about that, but I really did enjoy the song."
The Bard felt sorry for the woman, but he could not put up with the strangeness of the situation. "I must know," said the Bard, "who exactly are you?"
"Names," said the woman, "it's not something as natural as you people may believe. I've never really had a name, I just simply am."
"Then allow me to rephrase," said the Bard. "What are you?"
The woman smiled. "A spirit. A spirit of the storm. I come and visit this land quite often, but I've never heard music like what you've produced today."
The Bard retook his seat in opposition to the storm spirit. A spirit of the storm! he thought. She looked quite beautiful, but the Bard knew he should be frightened of her. "I'm afraid you've caused my people a great deal of trouble. When you visit too often, the plants we raise for food drown, but when you are missing for too long, the sun withers them into uselessness."
"I am sorry," said the spirit sadly, and she did look genuinely regretful. "I have never wished to harm anyone, but I cannot control my nature. The winds determine my path. I am powerless to help you." She looked down and drank more of her tea.
The Bard took pity on the storm spirit. "In any case, I am glad my song has made you happy today. Perhaps when you come around again, you will remember me, and I can play for you again?"
"Yes," said the spirit. "I would very much like that. However, that is not this day. Already I feel myself being compelled to move on from this place." She finished her tea and handed her cup to the Bard. "I must be moving on. Thank you very much for the song."
As she rose from her chair and headed towards the door, the Bard called after her, "It's been a while since you last came around these lands, so on your way out, if you could give just a bit of extra rain to the fields in the area, it would make life easier for us."
The Spirit gave the Bard a smile, and opened the door. With a bright flash, she disappeared. The Bard stepped outside. It was raining.
The Bard smiled.
End of Chapter 1