Even while it was happening, Link could not understand it. These shining, golden beings telling him he was a hero, the Hero, chosen by the Goddesses themselves... How could that be? He was just a boy from Ordon who herded goats and liked to study swordplay, and he had managed to scrape by - barely. But he was reluctant in accepting a fate spoken to him, even by a being shining so terrible and wonderful in beauty that he wanted to scream and cry and fall to his knees.
The light from the Spirits shone through him and shook his very bones, though it didn't make him sick and heavy like the Twilight. Midna laughed and taunted him, always, though she grew more bearable over time. By the end of their journey and all its trials, they had formed quite the bond... Link still wished for her guidance now, sometimes. Or just her scoffing, impish nature - it would put a smile on his lips.
The more he looked at everything he'd done, the more it seemed like a crazy maelstrom of good luck and hard work, with the skills and knowlege gained along the way. He didn't feel like a hero. Everyone lauded him as a one, as their personal savior. It made his day job awkward. Everyone wanted him to do grand things, but he just wanted his quiet life back. Why had it been him, he wondered - what had the Goddesses seen? He was no better than any of the people surrounding him. And his struggle had been bitter, perilous; he came close to death more times than he would ever admit to Ilia or the children who still liked to romp in his yard.
Most of all, he was less solitary than he'd ever been, but also more alone. He was put on a tier, above the rest, exalted... and all he wished for was to be let back down to earth.
