The buildings flew by me as I biked past them. The crisp mid-autumn crosswind I created numbed my face. The rest of me was covered pretty well by my khakis, my warm, green coat, my black gloves, my wooly green and gold hat, and my helmet. It was a Friday, and I had no homework due at all. I was thoroughly enjoying that feeling of freedom as I rode up and down the streets and bike paths within the University of Oregon campus. Though I was surrounded by thousands of students, I recognized few people. Most of these few were my housemates. I waved a greeting to each of them as I passed by, but for the most part, my ride was silent.

But I did not mind one bit. I was just starting my first year of college, and my first week was already finished, and with no outstanding assignments to turn in. I had never been freer in my life. Everything my parents, my teachers, my peers had told me was coming true; the world was mine to grasp, and I could do anything I set my mind to. And by golly, that was what I was going to do.

And that's when I noticed them. Two women standing outside the Erb Memorial Union on my left. One was younger, probably no older than my own eighteen years. She was somewhat tall, slender, and had long blond hair that cascaded down her shoulders halfway down her back. The other was older; she looked like she may have been in her early thirties, but had an aura about her that made her seem to transcend age. Her hair was close-cropped and whiter than a sheet of printer paper.

It wasn't their physical appearance that struck me, though. It was their garb. The young blonde wore a close-fitting pink dress with a decorated tabard down the front of the skirt. On her head was a cunningly-fashioned gold circlet, and her hands – along with the better part of each arm – were inside long, dainty, pinkish-white gloves. The taller, older woman was clad in what appeared to be a modest medieval take on a blue one-piece bathing suit, iron (or was it steel?) shoulder armor, and long off-white stockings. To the small of her back was strapped what appeared to be a short samurai sword. To be frank, they reminded me of cosplayers. Perhaps like something out of a video game. They had an oddly familiar look about them, but I could not place where I might have seen them before.

As I passed them, they seemed to regard their surroundings with cautious wonder. Then the young blonde and I locked eyes briefly. As I kept riding past them, her eyes lit up. Even after I'd put them behind me, I could feel her gaze following me. Where she may have recognized me from, I hadn't the foggiest notion, but something about me must have piqued her interest. I seriously hoped she hadn't found me attractive. To me, cosplayers were overzealous nerds who spent far too much time and money on their various obsessions. Aside from the first few minutes of self-consciousness at the blonde eye-balling me, however, I gave it no thought after those first few minutes.

…

The Onyx House, in which I lived, was a pleasant enough place. The place was an old sorority house until it was bought out by a church. Now it housed sixty co-eds like me, divided into a guys' floor and a girls' floor. It was just the sort of place one could do homework, read, watch movies, hang out, or just relax without so much invasion of privacy as the public buildings on campus. It was where I spent all my time while I was not at class. As such, it was familiar ground to me, and everyone living there was a friend of mine.

At the back of the house was a bike shed, where I now walked my bike. I punched in the combination to the lock and entered. The walkway in the bike shed was quite narrow, so, I must admit, it was a bit of struggle to get my bike parked. But once I managed it, I felt quite relaxed already. As I walked towards the door again, I took my helmet, winter hat, and gloves off. I was carrying these as I opened the door.

Walking right past the door were the two cosplayers. I froze in the doorway, hoping they didn't notice. But they were right there, and I wasn't winning any awards for blending in with my green coat. The blonde saw me immediately and stopped, eyes bright, as though something about me boded well for her. She skipped lightly up to me and straightaway said, "You look exactly like what we need."

Her statement was both confusing and off-putting at the same time. "What do you mean?" I asked uncomfortably.

The older of the two ladies looked at me gravely and replied, "We are in dire straits and need your help."

"Do tell," I said to the two.

At that, the blonde began to explain, "We come from a kingdom far from here. Our greatest hero has been captured by an ancient evil. We have looked far and wide for someone to rescue him."

All this sounded too good to be true; I had never heard of cosplayers actually believing they were the characters they tried to portray. But I decided to play along. "What exactly about me stood out?" I asked the blonde.

She answered this with a gesture at my green coat. "You dress as he does. And you also have hair like him." Thankfully, she didn't reach out and touch my hair, which was about as blond as hers.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but who exactly are you two?"

The blonde girl blinked once, then responded, "I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule, and my companion is Impa, my bodyguard."

And in an instant, it suddenly dawned on me why these two had looked so familiar to me. My eyes flew wide open. Any thought of these two being cosplayers staying in character left me immediately. "You two aren't going to believe this," I said to them, "but I've actually heard of you. It's not what you think, though. A lot of people here have heard of you. But you two are supposed to be fictional characters."

I could tell Impa was taken aback, by the look she gave me. "I can explain," I said sheepishly. "Follow me." Zelda nodded once, and I lead them into the Onyx House.