Hey, y'all! I've been promising a new, coherent version of Three Word Phrase for like... Years now, and here's the beginning of it. I've been working on it for ages, and I'm glad to finally be actually posting this.

In addition to the story, I'm also going to be doing some other stuff, mostly for my own amusement, but you're free to enjoy it too, of course. ^.~ Each chapter will have an illustration to go along with it, posted here - .com/gallery/#Rendition at my deviantArt account. There'll also be random art posted there relating to Rendition-verse, although not necessarilly the story itself. I'm also planning to do short comics focusing on Impa, Sheik and Zelda's misadventures during Link's seven year 'll be posted in my deviantArt page too.

I'm also in the process of launching a new website, which will also have some Zelda-related and Rendition-verse art in it. The stuff on my website will all be pay-for, however, as I'm currently trying to replace all the electronics in my house thanks to some evil, evil fellow. It'll be pretty cheap, though, like five cents for desktops and pr0n and such. I'll also be taking commissions, if you want them.

Also on this website, I'll be posting information about the various languages I've invented for Rendition-verse. At the moment, the only one I have really web-ready is Sheikah, which is fully learnable, although the dictionary is a little bit sad atm. ^.^ I'm also planning on creating a version of Gerudo and Old Hylian, for you language buffs out there. I know you exist.

Anyways, without further ado, I present to you;

Rendition

Chapter One; Before Dawn

When I was a kid, my father used to tell me about the old days, when we were really people and not tash'en-ruh*. We used to worship the sun back then. No-one had even heard of the Goddesses, or, as my father put it, they hadn't been invented yet. We lived in mountain valleys and in caves, only they weren't caves so much as they were buildings built into the rock. There were lots of us, so many that we filled up whole cities. We even had a king.

That was why the Hylians wanted us, to begin with. There were more of us then there were of them, and we were stronger than they were. We were good allies back then, and we had all sorts of skills and powers and magic that they didn't even know about. They needed us to fight their war for them, and we did.

Only it didn't end there. We might have been strong, but we were stupid, and we never bothered to ask what would happen after the war was over and half our warriors were dead.

So my father said, at least. My Hylian tutors had a very different version of things. Theirs is the one in the history books, but everyone knows you can't trust everything you read. Or what you hear, for that matter. But hey, it's just history, right? It doesn't make any difference, in the end.

Only without history, I wouldn't be trying to squeeze my shapely, spandex-clad hiney onto a windowsill the width of two of my fingers without falling three storeys and putting a serious kink in Destiny.

I really do not understand why I have to be the one to do this. I get why it needs to be done, sure, and I can deal with the whole 'bound in service to the royal family because of the sins/naiveté of my ancestors' thing, although that has always seemed just a little unfair to me. I just don't understand why it has to be me. Surely it would be easier for Little Miss Pretty-pants to flounce about if she was trying to pretend to be a woman? I know there aren't a lot of us Sheikah left around, but there has to be a better choice. Heck, even the Princess herself would be better qualified to do this whole 'agent of fate' thing than I am.

For years, everyone's been telling me about how much of an honour this is, how lucky I am. I get to play this big important part in History and fulfill a prophecy a thousand years in the making, ooh, aah, isn't it great. But it's not. It's just stressful and boring uncomfortable, and the stupid costume they gave me chafes.

And I really don't see why we should all put our faith in a guy who can't figure out which way to go if some mystical guy in a leotard doesn't show him in colour-coded riddle form. I mean, how hard can it really be? It's not like there're a whole lot of options around here as far as 'ancient temples shrouded in mystery' goes. Most of them are fairly obvious, really.

Then again, I can't imagine any decent man with half a brain willingly wearing the get-up he's apparently supposed to appear in. I've never met anyone, man or woman, who looked good in a pointy hat. Or seventy feet of gauze, for that matter, so I suppose I can't really judge. He probably has just about as much choice in the matter as I do.

So here I am. My tush is numb and I can only see out of the one eye, and this ridiculous turban thing must be wrapped a bit too tight because my noggin is killing me, although that may just be the dehydration, since I've been sitting in full flipping sunlight for an hour waiting for this bugger to finally show up so I can yammer at him for a bit and then we can all go home. All because, about a million years ago, some dumbass of a king was too stupid to knock out the details of a treaty before all his minions got slaughtered by savages. Thanks a lot, Gramps.

And then something happens, and I don't know what I was expecting, but this really isn't it. I've seen magic before a couple of times, mostly during the few ceremonial hooplas that happen close enough to the barracks to be seen through the bars. Usually some fat guy in a dress waves a wand around for a bit and there's some sparkly lights and then maybe something floats around or explodes or something. There are magical barriers all over the place of course, but I've never seen one of those being cast or created or what have you, and that's different in any case. I've never seen anything like this.

It's like a waterfall of light, cascading upwards and disappearing into the ceiling. It's incredible. I've heard about it and I've seen pictures, but actually seeing it is, is just...

I never really believed that any of this stuff was real. There couldn't be some time-travelling hero, ready to give up everything just so us poor shmucks could live a little easier. There couldn't really be this great magical contingency plan set up just in case someone got stupid enough to try and seize ultimate power. It just couldn't be that clean, that simple, that... child friendly. It was all supposed to be, I don't know, metaphorical.

But it isn't. It's real. There is magic in this world, and there is a plan, and there is a hero, and everything I've been told is true. Well, maybe not everything, but enough.

It's like this window opening up inside my head, letting all the stories and things that've been piling up on the other side tumble in. I can almost make a chain out of it, a logical series of therefores and thus' that could go on forever. The events of the prophecy are starting to come true, therefore the prophecy is real, therefore there really is some kind of plan, therefore there must be a planner or three, therefore everything the priests said is true, therefore there really are Goddesses out there somewhere, therefore... But it doesn't make sense, not all of it, not really, and couldn't there be other explanations, there have to be, because Goddesses can't exist, not really, because if they did then why wouldn't they made the world better in the first place, or...? And if one thing is true, does that mean everything is, or nothing is? And can anyone really be that good?

And then I see him for the first time, and everything goes silent.

Apparently, it is indeed possible to look damn fine in a pointy hat.

He carries himself the way the Princess does. He stands with his shoulders down and his feet turned just a little bit outwards, and there isn't anything unusual about it, except somehow he manages to fill this big empty gods-awful room all by himself, like he's larger than just his arms and his legs and his pretty little head. And he is pretty, but he's hard, too. Stern. Worse than Etin** Impa, even. Except it doesn't take away from him at all, more to the contrary.

He doesn't look like the hero in my head. The hero in my head has a round kind face and big watery eyes, and helps little old ladies up the steps and reads letters to the blind on his days off. He's a useless little functionary who does his job and then goes home to a fat wife and seven fat children. This man isn't like that.

This man is the living incarnation of the weapon he carries, the weapon only he can ever hold. He's beautiful, and he shimmers in the sunlight, but he lives in shadows and blood. For all the gilt and glitter, he is a tool designed to kill, and it shows in everything from the way he holds the legendary blade to the angle of his jaw.

For the first time since the sky went black seven years ago, I believe, no, I know that we can win. Ganondorf doesn't stand a chance.

As I drop carefully down from the little butt-killing ledge and make my stealthy way to the empty pedestal, I finally understand what everyone was talking about.

I'm the first person to see him. I will be the first to speak to him. I will be the one to guide him on his journey, help him, walk with him, and even if I won't be remembered in the legends, well... I get to be here.

I get to know him. And that seems like a pretty cool thing.

I know what I have to say off by heart, and as the words come out of my mouth, they finally feel right.

"I've been waiting for you, Hero of Time."

I've been waiting for you all my life.

* 'Shadows'. Contrary to popular belief, sheikah does not mean 'the shadow-folk' in Sheikahn. The word sheikah actually means 'the children'. Tash'en is the actual word for 'shadow', and is the word the Sheikah use to equal the 'shadow-folk' phrase. It is also, unsurprisingly, a slang term for assassin.

** Aunt, or more specifically, 'parent's sibling who is of a different gender than I am'.