Well, here we go. I haven't written in a long time and I've never written LoZ fanfiction, so bear with me if this is absolutely awful. . . though I sincerely hope you like it.

She was beautiful.

She floated mere inches from me, soft, pure white light exuding from her very skin. I don't even remember her face, but I know it was beautiful. I remember her hair was light-colored and her eyes blue. Her eyes. They held something strong, I know. Something powerful, but not forceful. A force of benevolence, somehow. I could have touched her, but I knew my place. Somehow, she was important. She was staring straight at me, trying to convey something, but I was oblivious, and I was running out of time.

"Link."

It was as though she'd said my name a million times. But somehow, it wasn't right. It took me a moment to realize that the name hadn't really fallen from her lips. It was somewhere else, echoing in the great white void.

"Link!"

Link's eyes snapped open, and instantly, he jerked back, eyes wide, from the face inches from his, which beamed smugly. Her bright, green eyes sparkled with the joy she got from startling him.

"About time! Your training lesson with Kardos starts in about five minutes," the girl before him - Link's best friend, Aeara - said, walking toward the open trapdoor in the middle of Link's small, wooden home. "Hurry up!" she shouted over her shoulder as her long, red hair whipped over the edge of the trapdoor as she dropped down the hole.

Link sat up, rubbing his eyes with his fists. What a lovely day it is, Link thought, when your wake-up call is physical labor in the form of a cruelly perky little girl.

Link forced himself out of bed, changing out of his loose sleeping pants, leaving them on the floor, as he made his way to the trunk at the foot of his bed. He rummaged through it, finding a roomy outfit fit enough for swordplay, then pulling it on and trudging his way to the trap door before making his way down the ladder.

When Link had turned fourteen, the whole village had celebrated his being old enough to take care of himself by helping him build his new home. Though it wasn't much, he'd had one odd request: he wanted it off the ground. Though it took a little extra work, they gave him this, everyone in the village considering the boy family, as they had all helped take care of him, growing up - more so especially when his parents died in a raid when he was five.

From then on, Link was raised by a family friend - an elderly man with no children of his own, his own family having died many years before. This man later became his teacher, when the sword master decided Link was old enough to bear the blade.

"I'm sorry, Kardo-" Link started as he ran through the open door he had used for so many years of his young life.

"Master," Kardos, an old man with a beard to his stomach and a bald head and frequently wore no shirt and a cocky, good-natured smile, reminded Link arrogantly. Link rolled his eyes, smiling, as he picked up his practice sword.

"Yes, Master. What will you be teaching me today, Master?" Link asked, adding a little extra sarcasm, and Kardos simply laughed in response.

"Oh, boy, you are lucky that you are like my own son or I'd have to whoop you, today, for that," Kardos said, and Link laughed back to mock him, in jest, knowing that Kardos really could destroy him in a sword fight any day. Kardos may have had years weighing on him, but he also had years of training and advantage. He knew every fighting style there was, and knew exactly how to outwit every opponent. Link had learned this very young, the first time he raised his sword to Kardos, when the old man decided that Link needed to have his cocky attitude knocked out of him early. . . at seven years old.

The lesson went exactly as they always did - painful, long, and exhilarating. Link both hated and loved it. While it did completely wear him out, he still enjoyed it immensely. With sword in hand, he felt free. Strong. Passionate. Empty of all troubles - just tactics and strategies. The only new thing that occurred at that particular day's practice was that Link almost won a fight. Almost. However, he became so distracted by the mere thought - Winning? How is this possible? - that it took Kardos almost no effort to knock him off his feet and blossom a lovely little headache in the back of Link's skull.

By the time the lesson was over, just like every other day, Link had to limp out the door as Kardos chuckled behind him. If he didn't like Kardos so much, Link sometimes swore he'd probably hate him. There was just something about having the old man raise him that made Link understand him.

As the sun sank past the treetops that heavily surrounded their village, Link traipsed toward his home, holding his bruising arm, tired and hungry. It wasn't often he was made to endure a full day of training, but the days had begun to be more frequent. Kardos had been starting to make vague references to his own age, and something about how the shadows didn't seem right. Link would vaguely wonder as they would take breaks to eat and Kardos would mumble to himself if the old man wasn't becoming senile.

Then again, Link wouldn't be surprised if he was. Kardos had lived a long life full of pain, trauma, and misfortune, and though he did not speak much of it, Link knew that more went on behind those weary eyes of Kardos' than he let on. Link felt as though Kardos may have felt guilty about the death of his family, though, never having been allowed to hear the full story and never wanting to cause Kardos pain by bringing the subject up, he would simply not allow himself to think about it.

Link's house, on the edge of the village, cut off slightly by a few extra trees and a small stream, was finally in sigh. He was contemplating how much of a pain it'd be to climb that ladder when he heard it. The voice he knew had to belong to the girl in the dream.

"Link."

Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated. Let me know if I'm a bit redundant, as I have a tendency to be.

~ xoxmitchiexox