AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just so you all know, I have not stopped writing the Island Stones fanfiction. Instead, I want to play with the concept of Zelda through the ages, and will write this story as well as finish the Island Stones. I recently had this idea for a new story, and considering how I'm experiencing writer's block for the Island Stones at the moment, I might as well be writing something!

For all you Link and Zelda pairing fans, unfortunately this story will not have the Hero and the Princess paired, but please don't let that deter you from the story itself. Link and Zelda will factor into the story immensely, but not as lovers. I have a feeling this fanfic will be better in terms of writing and, possibly, content than To the Secret Realm and the Island Stones. This is mostly because my strength has never actually been full-on fantasy/adventure writing. But, I also believe fantasy makes everything just that much more interesting, so I will be incorporating fantasy into it.

The story is basically set in modern Hyrule and centers around a very gifted Hylian writer named Candice. She is fresh out of university, and spends her time obsessing over a thesis that she believes will bring her recognition, and, of course, cash. Unfortunately for Candice, her thesis is not progressing at all, even with the guidance of those around her. In fact, she does not even love what she is writing. But, she presses on since she has lost faith in a lot of aspects of her writing, and has decided that the only reputable pieces of literature left are academic essays, books, studies, etc. One evening, Candice happens to stumble upon the Temple of Time. From there, she discovers a multi-century plot that has transcended through Time, and finds herself in a situation where she has to stop it with a little help from her friends.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy The Immense Advantages of Tinkering with Time.

As we Hyruleans are aware of, there is a series of multiple centuries old legends centered around the Legendary Hero. It is said that the spirit of this Hero was reincarnated again and again, and there have been multiple men (all named Link) who have taken on the role of the Hero. They have traveled to lands and worlds so different from ours that the legends seem almost unbelievable. However, recent archaeological and anthropological evidence has proved to us that the Hero (or Heroes, for that matter) did, in fact, exist. Therefore, the category of legend does not suit each of these Heroes' stories. Rather, history is the correct and accurate depiction of their actions. Due to this unprecedented result, the subject of when the next reincarnation of the Hero will appear is of great importance to many. Unfortunately, the conclusion remains elusive, and the debate still continues in many lecture halls, university classrooms, and convention centers, to name a few locations that act as "ground zero" for the subject.

However, though we have failed to reach a general consensus upon the issue, the Hyrulean community is fraught with theories. Yet there is one hypothesis that has not yet been mentioned, involving an intricate pattern that accurately determines when the next reincarnation of the Legendary Hero will appear. The theory is my own, and I expect it will provide yet another facet to the debate.

First, it is of the utmost importance to define the pattern, and later explain its connections to predicting the next appearance of the Hero. The pattern consists of...

Consists of...

Consists...of...

Of...

Nothing.

Another useless day in front of the computer screen. Time lost, moments wasted, and sadly both were familiar to Candice. Six months of rigorous research and hunting still resulted in three un-proofread paragraphs of far fetched and air-filled words. What had begun as a claim to fame was now nothing but an introduction to the deathbed for Candice. An addiction that could not be cured, an unhealthy obsession, was what this thesis had become. Pained, Candice leaned upon the chair rest, throwing her head back and allowing her chestnut brown hair to drape over the back of her chair. She remained there, content to keep her small frame in that position, her head aching.

Until the ring of the telephone reached her ear.

Candice shot out of her chair, startling Cornelius, with the white mouse leaping and retreating to the back of his cage. A flurry of activity ensued with papers flying into the air, thrown by Candice as she searched for the phone.

"Where are you?" she wondered, hastily overturning books and papers.

Ten rings later, Candice recovered the phone, finding that it had, in fact, tumbled off the table. Pulling at her sweater, the young Hylian answered, "Hello?"

"Candice, dear, is that you?"

"Uncle Tido!" exclaimed Candice, "How are you?"

The middle-aged man chuckled over the phone, his laugh making Candice smile, "As good as always. I'm just trying to check up on my favourite niece!"

Candice blushed at the comment, "If Aria and Ariane were here..."

"That's why you will do me a favor and not tell your sisters," chuckled Uncle Tido from the line, "Promise?"

"Uncle, the last thing I would ever want to do is compromise your safety," replied Candice, smiling.

"That's always good to hear!" boomed Uncle Tido, "Now tell me: what are you doing right now?"

"Well, I'm trying to write this damn thesis but honestly, nothing's coming to mind. I'm still stuck in the Writer's Vortex of Nothingness," admitted Candice with shame.

"And if I invited you over?"

Eagerly, Candice answered, "I'd be over in a second! Just give me a time to get dressed and I'll be in front of your door in about...twenty minutes tops?"

"Then I will see you in twenty minutes, dear! And Cornelius?"

Candice turned to the mouse, who was now glued to the front of his cage, staring curiously at her. The mouse had a knack for detecting when Uncle Tido called, and always made a point of dressing himself upon his hind legs, paws on a cage bar. His ears were perked, and his tail was raised and darting back and forth, left to right, while his nose was stuck high into the air. Candice winked at Cornelius, and promptly returned to the telephone, "You will see both of us in twenty minutes, then."

"Well, don't keep me waiting!"

"I won't!"

True to her promise, Candice ran to the bedroom and threw open the doors to her closet. Examining the various tops and bottoms that she could sport, Candice bit her lip, a characteristic that had always been associated with her whenever she was thinking. Uncle Tido had been absent in her life for almost a year, as a much-needed surgical operation had left him bed-ridden in a Terminian hospital for months. Therefore, Candice found it imperative to look her utmost best for her much-loved Uncle. Settling for a white skirt that reached down to her knees, Candice then pulled out a colourful striped sweater, and with no coincidence; Her Uncle had offered it as a gift to her shortly before his stays at the hospital.

Twenty minutes had been the promise, yet five minutes had already been spent on selecting the proper attire. In a dash, Candice made her way to her mirror and fumbled, somewhat clumsily, through a tiny, pink bag containing her much-depleted collection of cosmetics. The six months of deprivation brought on by her thesis had forced Candice to remain at home, and now the results of such confinement was beginning to show. With difficulty, Candice lined her eyes, the pencil slipping much more often than she would have liked, leaving slight smudges of dark blue upon her eyelid. There was once a time when Candice had completed such a simple task with expertise, but now all pencils, brushes, and colours seemed foreign to her. She took the mascara from the bag and pulled out the brush, cringing at the globs of black that clung to the bristles. Expired eye makeup, just as Candice needed. One swift motion, and the overdue mascara lay in the waste basket. Slightly disgusted, Candice moved to her skin, and remarked how dry it had become. Clearly, writing the thesis had demanded a sacrifice of some kind, and Candice remarked on how impossible it now seemed that she had, once, been a vain girl.

Ten minutes left. Snatching her out-seasoned purse, Candice then proceeded to lift Cornelius's cage from her desk. One final obstacle remained: the shoe selection. However, Candice no longer cared for fanciness, and quickly pulled out a small, prim and proper pair of white heels which, she hoped, were comfortable enough to walk in. Then out the door, down the elevator to the parkade, and to Candice's pride and joy: the silver car, which she had deliberately named Zelda, due to the car's finesse. Years of working during her university years had earned Candice enough money to invest in her own vehicle without delving into her own family's extensive monetary funds. Zelda was hers, through and through, though the only trips she had made during the last half year were to the nearby grocery. Disappointing, really. And quite pathetic considering how Zelda was one of those automobiles their owners drive through the posh areas of cities, leaving average drivers with feelings of envy.

Eighteen. Candice strapped the belt over her shoulder, and reached over, securing the other belt over Cornelius's cage. The mouse squeaked and made horrible noises as soon as Candice buckled his cage, discontent. With a caring look, Candice turned to Cornelius, who stared at her with angry, black and beady eyes.

"It's for your own good, honest!" she explained matter-of-factly to the frustrated mouse, "I don't want you flying out the window if we crash. You never studied physics, but let me tell you that at the speed we go at, if I hit something or if someone hit me, you would go flying out through the windshield! Somehow, I don't think you'd like that."

Candice turned the keys, and waited for the engine to run. Suddenly, she frowned and turned her attention back to Cornelius.

"Although if you were strapped in and we crashed, you'd still go forwards. Since you're so small, I think you might actually get shot forward so fast, your cage bars would slice you into little pieces and you'd die a really gory death. Hm. You don't need to listen to me, really, but it's some food for thought."

With a defeated squeak, Cornelius resigned himself to the padded floor of his cage, and watched as Candice turned the wheel.

Seventeen.

Zero, but just in time.

"Candice!"

Uncle Tido was waiting for them outside, overjoyed that his niece would drive out to the suburbs to visit him. A grin stretched from one ear to the other as he stood watching Candice emerge with Cornelius in hand. He had on a ridiculous straw hat to prevent the sun's rays from reaching him, but Candice did not mind. Uncle and niece embraced, with the mouse at the woman's side.

"More beautiful every time I see you, hm? You resemble your mother in almost every way. Not the hair, though, you inherited your father's lovely chestnut locks instead of the blond waves. But that doesn't matter at all!"

Blood rushed to Candice's cheeks as Uncle Tido complimented her. "You're way too polite, Uncle Tido."

"Nonsense! Of all my sister's daughters, you were always the best-looking one of them all! Your mother still thinks so, of course."

To change the subject, Candice lifted Cornelius exclusively for her Uncle's eyes. The little white mouse's eyes were now beaming, and Cornelius was finally making an effort to appear extremely adorable. With a booming laugh, Uncle Tido fit a finger through the thin bars, and watched with glee as Cornelius nibbled gently upon the tip of his flesh.

"Hello, my friend," he greeted the mouse, "I see Candice is taking good care of you, you're growing plump!"

"Honestly, he's the only thing I pay attention to in my apartment now," confessed Candice.

"Besides your thesis."

"Yes," said Candice, uneasy, "Besides my thesis."

Uncle Tido took Candice by the arm and led her towards his front door. "Well, don't be shy! My home is your home, and it's about time you came to visit me!" exclaimed Uncle Tido.

The interior had not changed one bit. Sunny, yellow walls surrounded Candice, radiating to match the joyous atmosphere of Uncle Tido's abode. A plain, oak staircase led to the upper floor, where Candice had often played as a little girl, imagining that she was at the top of a waterfall, about to tumble down into the waters below. The wooden floor beneath her still emitted slight, cracking noises, and family portraits still lined the walls. But most of all, it was the smell that produced Candice's nostalgic feelings. Uncle Tido always boiled coffee and hot chocolate throughout the day, no matter the season. The mixed aroma would float around, as it did now, covering the entire house in a sweet, sweet blanket that reminded Candice of a coffee shop, though one that held much more personal significance. How Candice and her sisters had fought each other for the hot chocolate, battling for the first serving from Uncle Tido's pot. But it was all in good fun, as in the end, everyone received a share of the prize to enjoy and savour.

They were nearing the kitchen now, and sure enough the gentle hum of a stove could be heard. The yellow walls gave way to apple green, and soon Candice sat at the little wooden table upon which she had often eaten her dinners when she was younger. It didn't matter that Aunt Nora had passed away, the kitchen was still clean, and full of home. As was custom, Uncle Tido stretched his short frame upwards to open the cabinet, extracting a small cup from the shelf, filling it with his traditional hot chocolate. Neither relative cared that it was a stuffy summer day, as the beverage was always a must during a visit. Carefully, Uncle Tido placed the cup under Candice's nose, pleased that his niece had not forgotten the memories of visits from before. His niece stared into the cup, then, mischievously, looked up and smiled at him.

"You're forgetting something," hinted Candice.

It was Uncle Tido's turn to look into the cup, and it didn't take too long for him to realize exactly what Candice was speaking of.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, "The special treat I always give you whenever your sisters aren't here!"

Patiently, Candice watched as Uncle Tido journeyed back to the cabinet and took out a bag. He happily returned, a spoon in hand, dropping a few marshmallows into Candice's drink.

"You never told Aria and Ariane, did you?" inquired Candice.

"No!" retorted Uncle Tido, taking a seat at the other end of the round table, "Can you imagine all the torture and grief they would have put onto you if I had?"

"Then it's still our secret?"

"It's still our secret," replied Uncle Tido with a wink.

A moment of silence passed as each took a sip of the chocolate, the warm liquid filling their throats. Candice allowed her uncle to speak first.

"How have you been? Last I heard this ridiculous thesis is taking up your life."

Candice sighed, rolling the cup lightly in her hands, "That's true. It's just, six months and I expected to come up with so much more than I have right now. Nothing comes to me, nothing at all."

With a sad smile, Uncle Tido took Candice's hands into his and looked her straight in the eyes, "Have you ever thought about writing all your stories, again? Everyone enjoyed your stories so much, and remember that was how the entire family found out you had a gift for the written word."

"No, I can't do that," bemoaned Candice, "People just don't like those sorts of stories anymore. It's all about pop literature now, Uncle. No one wants to read stories about morality with moving plot lines anymore. Now, people want mysteries that aren't too hard to solve, romances that are too ideal and predictable, and heroes and heroines that don't have a fault to them. Character development is hated, all people want is action, and more action. If I wrote like I did before, I wouldn't be making any money. And I can't write the way people want me to."

"And this thesis will help you?"

"I'm the only person in my graduating class that hasn't done something yet. It's about time I was on the map for something respectable."

"Well, if you're talking about writing boring books and essays that no one wants to read, I'd rather you didn't write at all. If this thesis is causing you so many problems, what makes you think you will make even a cent out of it? Your family is wealthy, but you aren't. If money is your sole concern, I'd return to your stories. Besides, you'll find much more sanity there."

Another silence. Candice turned to gaze out the kitchen window at the neat little garden. Aunt Nora's roses were still intact, which was no surprise as Uncle Tido tended the garden almost every day. The rose patches were a reminder of his wife, and he chose to stay close to them.

"I found a job last week," announced Candice, never leaving the garden, "It pays pretty well, too."

"Oh?" reacted Uncle Tido, always interested, "And what would that be and where?"

"You know the prestigious fashion magazine Flair? I'm a personal assistant for the editor. I start tomorrow and believe me, it's a completely new feeling. For the first time in a year I went shopping the other day for clothes, it's all about the big brands there so I want to at least look nice enough to not get fired on the first day."

"Who is the editor for the magazine?"

At the question, Candice sighed and turned back to Uncle Tido, head in her hands, "It's painful. Do you remember Garth Bly?"

"The Zora boy?"

"Yeah, him. The guy I dated in university?"

Uncle Tido laughed at the news, though the humour of the situation was not apparent to Candice, "He is a good boy, I remember him. So he's editor, huh? I'm not surprised, I thought he always had it in him."

"Yeah, well, now I'm working for him. It's a little hard to admit."

"Candice, don't worry," said Uncle Tido, reassuring her, "It's a good job. And you can quit when you feel the need to do so. Either way even if you do decide to quit, I don't object! You can come visit more often, then!"

Candice took a sip from her cup, heart warmed by her uncle's comment. But the smile disappeared soon after.

"I don't know when I'll be able to write," she remarked, head drooping.