I feel that I may be ruining the effect of this story by adding comments but I'm going to put them here anyhow.
I wrote this story for several reasons: 1) To attempt a different style, 2) To learn how to write a story that covers a great length of time without having it be a thousand chapters, 3) To learn to use symbolism in writing (I am very apt at it in art but not so much in writing). There is lots of it in here. 4) The plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone, 5) To procrastinate on my essay, 6) Practice.
Any feed back you could give me would be much appreciated and loved. I do take flames but I would prefer if you would have the class to write constructive criticism instead of out right bashing. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the story.
If I may suggest one last thing: here is some music that may enhance the story: http: /www. youtube. com/ watch?v=Vv9- AjBRmVU Obviously without the spaces. I listened to this piece over and over and over and over and over while writing. I need new music, badly…
-Jordan
P.S. I do not own anything in this story except the order of the words.
P.P.S. I will update the story once my amazing sister finishes beta-ing it. Until then please do your best to ignore the many mistakes I have most likely made. However if it is a regional mistake or a historical one portioning to the fictional land of Hyrule or Twilight Princess please feel free to tell me and I'll do my best to correct it.
This is a historical account recorded by the sword smith Rusl of Ordon in place of the current mayor of Ordon, Bo, due to request. All accounts date from the Summer of Dawn to late spring, eight seasons later in the Summer of Wolves. Events, recorded in the Winter of Blue Moons, are as follows.
Recorder's Note: I do not wish to toil in the details of those gruesome years that darkness plagued Hyrule. Thus, I will assume that those who are reading this account are familiar with the events documented in Mayor Bo's most recent account. Instead, I shall begin my account with Link of Ordon's return to the village after the Twilight War. Let it also be acknowledged that very little is known about Link's adventures prior and during the events in this account. That being said, his reactions to events are very much accurate but that reason behind them is only speculation.
Ordon held a great feast the night Link came home. The children had begun decorating the village the moment we received word that he would be returning. It amused him greatly that they had even decorated his house. That night he played with the children like always, taking a side role instead on the excuse that he had had his fill of being a hero in the past two years. He laughed just the same when Beth complained about being the damsel in distress and had showed off his swordsman ship as always. But I could tell his heart wasn't in it. He tried his best but that shine that made his eyes so brilliant before the war was absent. Instead, a veil hung over his features as if attempting to mask him from all the horrors he had witnessed. Or keep them all hidden within.
He spoke to me that night. He wove a tale of his travels. It was the most I had heard Link speak in years. He was a quiet boy and had a way of handling his problems on his own without shifting the weight to others. But this was too much for any one man. This he had to share. So I listened. He left out bits and pieces and some of his explanations or accounts I knew to be false. But I listened anyhow, letting him talk. I knew the boy must have a good reason for telling the story differently. When he was done I offered my support but could do no more. The subject was rarely brought up after that night. We all simply wanted to forget.
The first six months after Link's homecoming were uneventful. Life returned to it's previous state. Almost. Little things had changed. My family had grown by one, but that had been expected. Link no longer fished as much as he used to. Talo didn't torment the other children quiet a frequently and did his best to help out around the village. But it was the nearly insignificant things that disturbed me the most. Link never left dirty dishes in the sink anymore. He only smiled at the traders that came to town from afar instead of standing by my side when we spoke with them. Fado hardly ever let a goat get loose. And oddly, Ilia never once advanced on Link. I assume she had realized that her chance had departed with his innocence.
The children had grown up significantly, much before their time; and the adults were more protective. I myself will admit to being overbearing at times, but I could not lose my son again and did not wish to risk my new born daughter's health. Any father would have readily agreed with me. Colin had shown the most improvement. He often carried around a small wooden sword and Link's old shield. They were much too big for him but he held such pride in the objects, so I never objected. I was proud of him and made a point of telling him so many times. His smile always mended any pain that still tore at my sole. Unfortunately, it never could do the same for Link.
Link began teaching him what I could not about the art of swordsmanship. He had improved vastly beyond what a small village such as Ordon could teach him. He bested me in every sparring match. To my great frustration and pride. When he was not tutoring Colin or the other children in some manner he busied himself on the ranch, made repairs around the village and helped me in my work. To this day I still believe he was only occupying himself so that he was not left with his thoughts, no matter how much he denied the notion, stating that he simply wished to be helpful. Much was accomplished that summer.
In early winter that year, word of trouble in towns in the Northern Lanayru Province reached Ordon. Bulblin tribes were raiding homes. Three had already died. Link left to aid them in what ever way he could. I forged him a sword to replace the on he had returned to it's resting place a month before. It was not as powerful but served him well for many journeys.
We received letters often, depicting life in the other provinces and telling of Link's travels. He did not return for three months. The moment a threat was vanquished a new one would appear in the town over. Once called a brave man, Link was now known as a hero. Several times he wrote of how villagers, children and adults alike, had mocked his tunic. Some even criticized him for having the audacity to wear a mockery of what was considered a sacred garb. He never told me directly but I always had an inkling that that tunic was the original Hero's tunic, once worn by the legendary Hero of Time. We had always known Link had a possible lineage to the historic figure but never investigated the matter. No one in the village ever knew his father and his mother only briefly. Link had no surname for this reason. Tracing his blood back to the Hero's time would have been near impossible.
After Link's second return he was even more restless. He had a taste for adventure when Hyrule was not under siege. Farm life would no longer serve his needs. He stayed for barely a month before leaving again. This pattern continued for nearly a year until his eighteenth birthday: the day he promised many years ago to take over for Bo as mayor. It was the first time Link had ever broken a promise. We understood. He was no longer fit for the job. He vanished for a year after that. He letters were so scarce they became something I cherished very much. Each one of them still resides in the left drawer of my writing desk.
When he came home to us, in the late fall of the next year, he was broken. He hid it well but we could all see the signs. He barely ate and slept much later than he had ever before. And most concerning he continuously had fainting spells during work. As time went on his condition worsened. Out of worry we asked him to stay with us until he recovered. He refused, claiming he would be a burden to an already crowded home. Instead he stayed with Fado.
It was unknown to us before his stay with the rancher but he would have terrible nightmares. At least three times a week he would wake screaming and thrashing, fighting beast only he could see. During one such occurrence he broke Fado's nose when he had tried to calm the boy. The rancher thought nothing of it, claiming it was not within Link's control. I do not believe the hero ever forgave himself for the incident.
Slowly, his condition grew worse. Within a month of his return he was bedridden with fever. Fado, unable to care for him in his current condition relinquished the boy to Bo. There he was under Ilia and my own wife, Uli's, care. Link was a strong boy, much stronger than most men twice his size. He fought with all his might against whatever ailed him (at the time we believed it to be a form of the Hylian sleeping plague which had circulated some years before Link's birth) with little success. Several times I caught him sneaking up to the ranch before daylight trying to tend to his duties as ranch hand before the rest of the villagers had risen. Much to his disappointment I sent him back to bed. I will never forget the look on his face when he asked for "one last sparring match" with me. It broke my heart to turn the boy down. I still held hope that he would recover. And a victory won unfairly would not give me the satisfaction a true victory against my greatest student would. I suppose that by that time he was no longer my student but rather a teacher. Though despite my pleads, some moves he would display in combat he refused to teach me. I have yet to learn why.
The seizures didn't start until mid winter. He was out with me by the creek, fishing, on one of his better days, when his eyes rolled back and he dropped. Fortunately, he fell backwards, instead of into the lake. I had once watched a doctor as he treated a patient who had frequent seizures, thus had a basic knowledge of what to do in such situations. I rolled him to his side and waited. When he came to he was as uncomprehending as a newborn child and just as fussy. It took longer than I had hopped to get him breathing again and even longer for him to come back to his senses. Shame was not the emotion I had been expecting after such a traumatizing event. Fear, perhaps, but not embarrassment. He had five such lapses in the next two weeks.
Eventually we all had to admit to ourselves before we could to Link that goodbyes were in order. Several doctors had come to assess his condition. Each had done his best to help. None could. His final days were spent mostly in bed. Several times he requested to be helped outside, and once up to Ordon Spring. It was spring by then. The air was warm enough for him to venture outside more often.
Once, a wolf had wandered into the village. Despite all attempts to scare it off, it remained still, calm. Link, with help from Fado, had ventured outside to see. I remember the look in his eyes so clearly that it will never fade from my memory. He and the wolf simply stared at each other for a long while. Finally the beast turned and left. Link had gone back inside and never once mentioned the incident again.
He asked me one evening, in a horse whisper, to be taken up to the ranch. When I had told him it was almost dark out and we could go in the morning he had insisted, informing me he wanted to see the sunset. His body was so thin and frail, a mere shadow of the hero he once was. I remember him nearly slipping though my arms. Colin, scarcely leaving Link's side those last few days, had walked ahead of us, opening the gates and herding off curious goats. We sat for a long while watching the sunset. Ilia joined us eventually, as did Bo.
"It was good," Simple words, but they spoke fathoms, "Life, I mean." I remember Bo sweeping the boy's bangs out of his face.
"What's your favorite part?" He had asked, a tremor in his voice.
"Many things," Link had responded, a distant gaze to his eyes, "The way the sun rose over Lake Hylia after a storm; sleeping under the shadow of Hyrule Castle, all the while watching the stars; Yeto's soup; the feel of a sword, freshly polished and gleaming in the sun." He paused for a long while. Ilia brushed away a few lingering tears that had betrayed her resolve to not cry in front of her childhood friend. Epona, feeling the need to be present, had snuck around to Colin's side and placed her soft mussel on Link's shoulder. He reached a shaky hand up to stroke her. She nudged back.
"But most of all," He whispered so softly that a simply breeze could have drowned him out, "I love the twilight." I will forever remember these words, for still they baffle me. He breathed a small explanation, "It really was a beautiful world, just as she said: It was worth saving."
Twilight.
I have always imagined that Link was born into the twilight, for that, too, is when he came to us as a child. It was some cruel joke of the goddesses that Twilight would be the horror to plague Hyrule. And the final sight of the land's greatest hero.
We buried Link by Ordon Spring, on the path leading to Hyrule Field. It was a place close to home, yet out in the land he loved. Friends, of both Link and the village, as well as many whom he had saved, traveled from all over Hyrule for the burial. It was a splendid event that, if still alive, Link would have been flustered by. He never did enjoy large crowds. But he deserved one, none the less. Most of the villagers had said their goodbyes days before his death, but many who where not native to Ordon had said them at the funeral. Just this had lasted many hours. All of Hyrule owed him their thanks in one way or another.
A week later we learned that the Princess had grown ill. She passed away a month later.
The Goddesses held cruel fates for those who had done so much to save their land. Ashei had once told me, when I visited Castle Town some years later, that they, both Zelda and Link, had served their purpose on the earth. They had been called back by the Goddesses to await when they would be needed again. This did somewhat settle my anger, but never completely quelled it. I had been forced to burry a son. Though not by blood he was the son of all Ordonians. It was more painful than burring, Amali, Bo's late wife.
The summer after Link died a wolf began to appear in the village. That same wolf. He never took any livestock, just sat in front of Link's vacant house. No one had lived there in months, and no one would any time soon. He never bothered anyone, but at night you could hear his howls from miles away. Once, when I visited Link's grave I spotted him sitting a ways off. Twilight was falling then. I could have sworn his fur flashed a shade of gold as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Then he was gone. That night two sets of tracks led into the woods. That Summer was appropriately named the Summer of Wolves
Life without Link was not the same as when he was traveling. Then, we at least knew he would return. Now, we knew he would not. We adjusted, though, and lived on. Seven years have passed since then. Colin has since grown and joined the Hylian Guard. They had been flushed of cowardice long before the time he entered the ranks. Beth and Malo have moved to the city and Talo has taken over the role of ranch hand. Fado has married and has a child of his own. Link, named in honor of the hero, is now two years of age. And has an affinity for pointy objects. He scares his mother to death but Fado is convinced he will one day be a great swordsman. Mylia, my own daughter, constantly pesters me for stories of Hyrule's hero. I am happy to oblige.
That is the main reason I wished to write this account: Heroes die.
No matter how great the man, eventually they must leave this world. Some sooner than others. But legends do not.
For all those who are reading this account, I ask you to carry on Link's story. He has done far too much for this land and it's people to be forgotten. I have spoken to many in Castle Town and the further reaches of Hyrule; most can not remember his name, only that he was a hero. I want to expose the life of a man we know so little about; for, even to those who grew up with him, he was a mystery. Perhaps, what I have recorded here will allow others to see that Link was not only a hero, blessed by the Goddesses, but a man of great valor and worth. He may not be remembered in the minds of the people, but let him forever be remembered in their hearts, as the hero of old once was and still is.
As a last gesture before I end this document, I hold my hand out to you: those who are wise enough to see past the fear that twilight has instilled in us all and see its beauty. For Link was right. No matter what happened, no matter what twilight once brought and what it may still bring again: It is beautiful. And like the world of light, it is worth saving.
March 14, 2011