In the vast, deep forest of Hyrule dwelt the Great Deku Tree. Towering high in a secret alcove shadowed by tree-lined cliffs, the massive tree housed the Forest Spirit who watched over all the Kokiri Wood. In his infinite wisdom—granted by the goddess Nayru—and his deep compassion—granted by the goddess Farore—he fashioned earth, grass, and seed until he could breathe into life that legendary people who would forever be cherished as the race which never grows up—the Kokiri.

Each of these pure, child-like spirits was accompanied by a guardian fairy. All save one, who would become known amongst his people—indeed, all Hylian peoples—as the Great Hero of All Times. The Hero was not Kokiri, but a Hylian. As an infant, his mother fled through a dark, stormy night, prevailing in the midst of war and staving death just long enough to leave her son in the care of the Great Deku Tree. Perhaps she sensed some specialness about his destiny. Perhaps, like all mothers in that time, she simply wished for the hope of a happier, safer life for her son. Whatever the reason, the Kokiri Wood remained one of the last corners in Hyrule that was untainted. The purity of the spirits residing there served as one of the last strongholds against evil. And the presence of that new spirit, the Hero, would provide the greatest protection of all.

Many years later, he received his guardian fairy, not because he was Kokiri, but because of a great quest which would require a companion's aid. Across time and sacred realms he traveled, his quest spanning seven arduous years, until at last, the great evil which had befallen Hyrule—Ganondorf, king of Evil—was banished.

Since that time...

"...the Kokiri sing of that Hero whom they cared after, for a time, and whom they loved so well."

Joller's quiet but captivating voice hushed. He turned to face the choir of fellow Kokiri, some beaming with excitement, others furrowing their brows in deep concentration and seriousness, and still others fidgeting and poking one another. With a swift smile at them all and a warning glance to quiet all trouble makers, he lifted his baton...

The symphony of Hyrule began.

No flutes were needed. Nor viols, drums, lutes, nor even the popular ocarina. Their voices swelled in a sad, sweet wave, like beams of light reaching to embrace their brethren in the stars. Those celestial spheres twinkled just a little more fervently than usual, as if hidden goddesses or fairies sang in return from their blazing abodes.

How Link adored these moments, sitting on his favorite green hill, blanketed by stars above and embraced by trees and the scent of rich earth on all sides. Best of all, how his heart thrilled each time the Kokiri children sang. He recalled legends of a time when Hyrule was split into many islands. Then, the Kokiri truly looked like a people made of wood and leaves, rather than the green-skinned children they had become.

Link studied his arm, which rested on his knee, and sighed. Truth lingered, marring the beauty of the scene, reflecting the mournful strain of the Kokiri's song. For him, there was no green skin. He was not Kokiri; he was seventeen, and he both looked and knew it. No guardian fairy would ever come to him. Though the Kokiri admired him, comparing him often to the Hero of old, their compliments could register only as sad insults. He could never be like the Kokiri. Nor like the Hero. Nor could he ever even express his sorrow and frustration at such a fate, for, most of all, he could not sing. He could not create such humbling beauty that stirred the soul to unstoppable tears. He could never join those throngs who, despite their small size, echoed their great hearts through songs shining with angelic luster. He could not sing...

He could not even speak.

Quietly, he stole up the hill, slipping into the thick of the woods like an insignificant shadow. Long ago he'd mastered the art of complete silence. Why not? With no voice, at least that was one talent he could manage to master.

Rushing past the trees, he was careless as their branches scraped his skin, burning with small scratches and tears. He didn't care; the pain felt good. It allowed the pain of his heart to ease just a little, to be replaced, if but temporarily. The burning of those small scars helped him to blink back fiery tears of scars buried much deeper within himself...

"Link."

For just a moment, he considered ignoring her call. For just the tiniest fraction of a moment. Even still, he realized he must truly be upset to consider ignoring her call at all—and thus, he probably needed to heed that call now more than ever.

Skidding to a rustling stop on the fallen leaves, he turned towards her with solemn eyes. Eyes which tried to remain hardened but could only soften with sadness as he beheld his best friend in all the world, the one he wished he could speak to more than anyone. She soothed the pain of his silence by always understanding how he felt. Yet, at the same time, she dug the wounds deeper by granting an understanding he longed to feel with others.

An anger welled inside him this time. Never had he wanted to be able to shout so badly in all his life. Save one other time when a band of Hylians visited the wood and he fell in love with one of their young maidens. His inability to express how he truly felt drove him into a tantrum. All he could do then was smash his hand against a tree...

And leave Sarita to tend the wound for him. Though small and childlike as all the other Kokiri, she was one of the eldest. Her eyes stretched as two deep, unfathomable, emerald orbs, two forests that could never fully be explored or charted. The long, feathery, dark green leaves of her hair were knit in a tight braid swept over one shoulder. He smiled just a little. He always thought the braid gave her an extra-motherly look. Or sometimes, when she was saying especially wise things, she looked like a sage.

"Link," she repeated, tenderly but firmly; he could not escape without at least a small lecture. "What is the matter this time? Aren't you enjoying the singing?"

He shrugged, glancing away from the eyes brimming with concern, not wanting them to entirely soften his anger.

"I thought they were your favorite though."

He pursed his lips. Of course they were his favorite. And like everything else, that made them also his greatest bane.

"Link, it's okay. How many times do I have to tell you not to beat yourself up so? You're an excellent woodsman, craftsman. Very in shape too. I've seen you and Gil practicing with those staffs. You know how much we think you look like the ancient Hero. I think you could wield a sword ten times better than he."

He really tried to stop the half grin but couldn't quite. She was flattering him now, in her sincere, convincing way. More or less, it was working, if only a wee bit.

"Link..."

Crunching leaves announced her drawing closer. He still hadn't looked up, but as he felt a small hand, light as a feather and soft as a newborn moon blossom...

He lifted his head enough to gaze into those emerald eyes watching him so intently. Sometimes, he thought she must really be a sage, the way she viewed his heart so accurately. How strange yet beautiful were the child and wise old woman dancing together in her eyes as the stars sang there too.

"You know I am your best friend. I love you as you are. Never doubt that or let it cease to mean something real."

He nodded, offering her the best smile he could.

She sighed, smiling too and stepping back. She knew her work was as complete as could be for the time.

"Are you coming back, or would you like some time alone?"

He jerked his head towards the depths of the wood.

She nodded. "All right. Just be careful then, and I'll see you in a little while."

He gave a short, reassuring nod. With a final glance, she skipped into the trees and disappeared from view.

Releasing a deep sigh, he just stood for a long while, staring at the wood he loved so much. He placed his hand on one of the massive trees, sensing the stories rippling beneath his fingers in its gnarled twists and patterns. Trees were often considered the simplest creatures, but Link knew otherwise by the tales of old. Trees nowadays were often silent, yet within their branches lay great purpose and deep history.

If only it could be so for him. Then again, a man was not meant to be born silent.

With another melancholy sigh, he drifted deeper into the wood. How often did he traverse its paths, memorizing each crevice, hiding place, secret creek. Sometimes, instead of wishing for speech, he wished instead for a silent world where the trees could understand him. Maybe he could even become a tree and communicate with them...

A sharp rumble along the ground nearly threw him off his feet. Catching himself against a tree, he braced himself just in time as the earth shook violently. A brilliant flash of light erupted, sending long tendrils of twisting white and blue outward as if a star had literally crashed into the wood and then exploded.

When all lay still, Link stood gasping against the tree, shaking. Then, fear for his life was overcome with fear for the Kokiri and intense curiosity. Pushing from the tree, he stumbled through the wood towards the light's source.

After only traveling several yards, a faint glow sifted through the trees, leading his quickened steps. Then, emerging into the small clearing—

He halted, almost toppling over his own feet, and stared. A shallow crater had been created, as if a star really did crash there. Cracks raced away from the crater on all sides. In its midst, hovering just a few inches from the ground, was a perfectly round, silver mirror. Its glass, though cracked in some parts, was otherwise flawless and glowed with white and cerulean hues. Within the mirror, kaleidoscope-like swirls of black and turquoise. Crystal steps of the same colors rippled down from the mirror, like someone unrolled a carpet to announce the presence of the grandest queen.

Then, that queen stepped from the mirror, and Link could only stare all the more.