notes one: I'm of the opinion that Link is the only one who remembers the events of Ocarina of Time. I believe this mainly because I have a sick desire to watch my favorite characters suffer.
notes two: I'm also of the opinion that both Link and Zelda remember their past incarnations. Not a full, detailed memory, more like the vague recollection you have of your dreams from last night. However, the time warp in Ocarina of Time screwed everything up, so Zelda doesn't have that knowledge anymore. This doesn't actually matter in this chapter, but it will come into play later.
disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo. Hylia bless their hearts, this game has ruined my life.
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With one powerful swing of his sword, Link cleaved the last Stalfos in half and watched as it dissipated into smoke and bones. Breathing hard, he surveyed the small clearing and the destruction he had wrought—at least a dozen Stalfos, all killed by his sword. The stench of death, acrid and wrong, invaded his senses; and although there was no blood, Link felt that he was covered in it. Those had been people once, every last one of them, lost in this seemingly endless forest.
He supposed he should be glad they hadn't found their way to the deepest part of the Lost Woods, where the trees shot so high that you couldn't see their tops through the fog. Termina and Hyrule were not meant to intersect; he and Skull Kid had both learned that the hard way.
Link sheathed his sword and crossed the clearing to where Epona waited for him. He had left her a safe distance away from the battle, but there was no need to tether her; she would follow her master to hell and back if he asked. "Hello, beautiful girl," he breathed as she nuzzled up against him, searching his green tunic for a treat. Smiling, he fed her a cube of sugar and swung up into the saddle, turning her towards the village.
Six years had passed since the day Link woke up in the Temple of Time after saving the world. He had wasted no time in warning Zelda of Ganondorf's betrayal, saving the world a second time—but the people no longer worshipped his name, and the princess was no longer the girl he had known. Six years, and he had learned what it was like to grow up, though at ten years old he had already known and seen things that did not belong in a child's mind. Link was left feeling too young and too old all at once; and really, he didn't know where he belonged anymore.
Kokiri Village was bustling with activity as its inhabitants prepared for winter. Autumn was always the busiest time of the year for the Kokiri, as they had to harvest all they could find to last through Hyrule's most barren season. Sometimes if they were struggling, Link would buy provisions in Castle Town and bring them to the forest; he felt he owed it to them, especially since he had more money now than he knew what to do with. But his aid was usually met with wary thanks and uncertain smiles. After all, Link had left the forest and grown up—two abstract concepts for a civilization of eternal children. A Kokiri cannot leave the forest and come back pretending nothing had happened. And Link was not even a Kokiri, so his visits to the woods were always fleeting.
Leaving Epona to graze near the river, he ducked into the treehouse that he had once considered a second home, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. Saria sat at her wooden table, weaving baskets for harvested food. "Any luck?" she asked without looking up from her work. Link shook his head tiredly and took a seat across from her, rubbing his face with his hands.
"I'm starting to lose hope," he admitted quietly. "I don't think Navi's…around, anymore." His gentle wording was more for Saria than for himself. Losing a fairy was the most horrific thing that could happen to a Kokiri. It was like losing your soul, your other half. Saria's lips tightened, and her blue eyes flicked to her own fairy hovering over her shoulder, then back to Link.
Saria was one of the few people who knew what had really happened to him after he left the Kokiri—she knew that she was a Sage, knew that he was the Hero of Time, knew just how close Hyrule had come to total destruction. Link had long since given up on being understood; there was only one person in this timeline who could do that. But at least Saria tried to.
"I'm sure that wherever Navi is, she's looking out for you," she offered cautiously, smiling up at him. He tried to smile back.
"One of your messenger birds brought me word of unusual monster activity in the Lost Woods," he said abruptly. "But I haven't found anything out of the ordinary. Do you know where I should look?"
Saria set down a finished basket and looked him in the eyes. "There is a cave not far to the west of the Forest Temple. Monsters seem to be pouring out of there, day after day. A group of our hunters got attacked a few days ago. Mido was among them. You'll have to ask him if you want details."
Link was not interested in asking Mido for anything. He had spent the first ten years of Link's life making sure he knew he did not belong in the forest. Though Link had needed no reminders, Mido had always been quick to shove the pain of not having a fairy in his face. He'd tried to discourage Saria, Link's only real friend, from even speaking to him; he had tried to blame Link for the Great Deku Tree's death. That may have changed under Ganondorf's rule, when Saria had left to become the Forest Sage; but Mido was the same as always in this timeline, and Link still felt Navi's absence with each step he took. He didn't need Mido to remind him of that.
"Thanks, Saria," he said, standing up to take his leave, but stopped with a hand on the doorframe. "Can I ask you something?"
When she nodded, he voiced an inquiry that had been on his mind for a very, very long time—perhaps since the day she had placed her clay ocarina in his hands and told him they would be friends forever. "Did you know from the start that I wasn't a Kokiri? That my mother came from outside the forest?"
There was a long pause; nothing but the tweets of birds and the chirps of insects filled the air between them. Finally, Saria drew in a slow breath and answered, "Yes, I did."
It did not come as a shock to Link, but something in his gut twisted into a knot all the same. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Saria dropped her gaze from his and began to weave another basket. Link pretended not to notice that her hands shook. "The Great Deku Tree always knew you were meant for great things. I don't think he knew how very important you would grow up to be, but…your mother did, somehow. And I could tell the moment I took you from her arms. I guess I just wanted you to have as much of a childhood as possible before the time came for you to leave the forest. Do you wish I had told you sooner?"
Link swallowed hard, broad shoulders pressed against the doorframe. Did he? He thought of long days waiting and waiting for the glimmer of a fairy to appear beside him; of growing taller than any Kokiri ever should and having no explanation for it; of working just as hard—often harder—than the rest of the village and still feeling out of place. But he couldn't blame Saria for that. She was his first friend; the only one who had stayed by his side in those days.
He gave her a simple, "No," in response and shoved out the door before she could say anything else. It was the truth, and it was the best he could do—Link could battle terrifying monsters without flinching, but in the face of his past…he was a coward.
The Forest Temple was not far for someone who knew the way. Link guided Epona carefully, keen ears trained to hear the remnants of Saria's song. It was something he had never understood, that the ocarina melody still played whether or not Saria was sitting on that stump at the base of the ancient temple. Then again, the Lost Woods were not a place for logic.
After a while, he turned towards the west and came to a clearing. The entrance of the cave jutted out of a cliff's face, wide and ominous like a yawning mouth with rocks for teeth. Link left Epona outside and slipped into the gloom. The tunnel led down and down, and he noted by the light of the torches hanging on the walls that this was no naturally formed cave; it had been dug.
Eventually, the tunnel leveled out and made a sharp turn. Link heard the clunking of large, heavily armored footsteps, just around the corner. He had his bow out and an arrow strung in an instant; the Moblin was dead before it even registered Link's presence. Link clenched his jaw and yanked out the arrow embedded between its beady eyes—it seemed that the killing would never end, not for him.
He continued down the tunnel, taking out Moblins as he went. They appeared to be guards, and surprisingly well armored ones. Not for the first time, he longed for the steady weight of the Master Sword in his hands. He had a good sword, crafted by the castle blacksmith on the princess's request, but Link had been born to carry the Master Sword. He felt incomplete without it.
The smell hit him after he took out a fifth Moblin. Sweat, blood, metal, fire…what was down there? Finding a room that broke off from the main tunnel, he shoved open the door and found himself in what could be nothing other than a smithy. More Moblins, as well as Stalfos—about half a dozen altogether—worked the forges, hammering steel into shape. Link heard the boiling hiss as a red-hot blade was dumped into a basin of water. They were making armor and weapons—a lot of them, based on the pile of finished products in the room's corner. He took all this in quickly, wasting no more time than was necessary, before his first arrow hit a Moblin in the back of the skull. The rest of them launched themselves at Link, and he drew his sword.
His thoughts moved faster than his blade as he flew into battle. Most monsters had brains the size of peas; and besides that, they served only themselves. The only reason they would all be working together like this was if they had a leader, but who? Ganondorf was imprisoned—
Link shook his head and shoved those thoughts away. Fighting with his head far away was only good for one thing: getting him killed. He slashed through the monsters one by one, green blood running down the length of his sword, until the last body thudded to the ground, dead. He let out a long, heavy breath. Whatever lay in this cave was a serious threat. He wished he had brought health potions; something told him he would need them. But it was too late to turn back now.
Starting down the tunnel once again, he detected a muffled, continuous roar somewhere below. Link was so focused on trying to figure out what manner of beast it was that he didn't see the way the tunnel widened far more than was necessary in one area. He didn't see the carefully placed planks lying in the middle of the floor. He didn't see the hole they covered.
The moment his boot met wood instead of dirt, Link knew. He threw out his arms, scrabbling to get a handhold somewhere, but it was futile. His wrist smacked against the tunnel's floor as the boards broke under his weight, and he yelped as pain shot up his arm. He was in free fall for a moment, and then he hit the surface of water and sank. The cold shocked him, numbing his muscles almost immediately; his lungs tried to inhale, earning him a mouthful of freezing water. His instincts took over, and he kicked for the surface, dropping his shield; it was far too heavy to swim with. Link supposed he should have been grateful that a pit of spikes hadn't been waiting for him at the foot of that cursed trap.
He reconsidered that thought when a Shellblade clamped itself around his calf, its powerful shells digging into his skin. Link thrashed, trying in vain to shake it off, before shoving his sword down and severing the muscle that held the Shellblade together. Pushing past the fire in his leg, he kicked once again for the surface, lungs begging for air.
A pair of very hairy, very ungentle arms hauled Link out of the pool and threw him on the ground, where he coughed up water, shivering uncontrollably. He recognized the scent from earlier; that of monsters and death, and the various inhuman sounds surrounding him confirmed it. He wasted no time drawing his sword with his uninjured hand and facing his opponent—his opponents.
Link was in a cavern the size of all of Castle Town, and it was filled to the brim with monsters. Stalfos, Moblins, Wolfos, Iron Knuckles, Dogondos, Redeads…every enemy he had faced while saving the world, plus species he had never even seen before. Skulltulas hung from the ceiling; skulls and Poes floated about. There were thousands of them, surrounding him on all sides, roaring, growling, drooling for his blood. Fear and adrenaline shot through him, his heart slamming against his ribcage frantically. His hand tightened around his sword, planning his first move.
Before any of the monsters could so much as blink, Link launched himself at a Dogondo, impaling it with his sword and whirling around to slice a Stalfos in half. The powerful claws of a Wolfos tore through his tunic and the chainmail underneath; then there was pain, and warm blood running down his skin. Link took down the Wolfos and kicked away a Stalchild. Hearing the clunk of heavy armor behind him, he threw himself to the side as an Iron Knuckle's axe nearly came down on his skull—backing right into another monster. The cold, skeletal, vice-like arms of a Redead encircled him, its teeth sinking into his shoulder. He screamed and slammed the pommel of his sword into the Redead's skull, then pushed its corpse away and turned to his next opponent.
His eyes widened. The gaps he had just made were already filled, each monster he had taken down replaced by five more. Panic swamped his thoughts; he shook with fear and cold; his wounds stung. Link had never faced this many enemies before. He'd never even fought half this many at once before. The Triforce of Courage offered no help—Farore was not with him today. He had no healing potions, no shield, no Master Sword, not even a fairy to guide him. He had saved the world, but what could one person do against an army?
He could only come up with one answer.
For the first time in his life, Link ran.
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