A/N: This is a new, smaller filler chapter. Although it may not seem like much, it's describing Colin and Talo's views beginning to change.

I am, however, VASTLY DISAPPOINTED IN THE MAJORITY OF FANFICTION READERS. If you are reading this story, the only way you can hope to have an quick update is to REVIEW. I am in control, and I don't have to update. This only hurts my loyal readers. Please, if you don't want to log in, just send an anonymous review. I WOULD APPRECIATE IT.

Thanks to Reviewers: la generala and Principessa Dell'Opera. If both of you review again, I will send you a new chapter. The WHOLE chapter. Not a preview.

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Tides Change

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As the rain began to pour down, Colin determinedly faced off with another opponent, refusing to give into the pain near his temple, eyes, and knees. He had been thrashed too many times by this piece of shit to allow it to happen again.

Victor was a second year, strong but not fast. His hair was lanky, his eyes dark brown; he looked like he'd worked every day of his life. He was from Castletown, the center of vital trade for more than four countries surrounding Hyrule. Like all the other boys, he was covered in only a few scraps of clothing, mostly a loincloth and scratchy shorts made of potato sacks. He was in the first barn along with Colin.

The boy's foot lashed out, causing Colin to leap shallowly, then roll straight towards his opponent, bringing up his fist. It smashed easily through Victor's cheek, making the boy grunt before falling onto the ground. Without any mercy, the smaller boy booted the second-year's rib, causing a sharp crack and a groan of pain to follow. Colin's chest was heaving.

Victor wasn't put down so easily. His leg swung around, knocking Colin to the sand. In a flash, the boy was on top of the blonde, slugging him in the face. He held him down, while Colin writhed, grappling with his opponent. They grunted, straining to find any leverage. Victor's nails dug into Colin's bicep.

Finally, Colin got his knees under Victor's, and kicked. Howling, the older boy recoiled before immediately defending himself against Colin's punch. They rolled around in the small paddock, nearly bumping into another scrapping three boys. Against the fence, Colin grabbed Victor's head and slammed in into the post. Blood filled his vision from Victor's earlier hit.

He refused to move while Victor flung his limbs around. It took a few moments, but finally, the boy spat out a mouthful of spit, held up his hands, and quieted. Colin moved off of him, barely helping the kid to his feet. With a wave, the younger boy moved off, eying the crowds for another stronger opponent.

Five out of seven. Not bad.

Colin was excited. Four months had passed, and he had heard rumors from the Page Master Bryk that the Lord Ganondorf and General Cero had set a date for the Trials, and how they would be displayed like animals. Bryk told them that shy of a tornado, nothing would stop the two from attending.

Nobody could stop the pages; this was a do or die situation. Only several of them would be able to go on to real knight masters, not just the clumsy one. Colin was aiming high; a captain would suffice. A general would be even better. Generals didn't want weaklings being under their command.

This was his chance. All of the glorious stories he'd heard could be confirmed by his new master. He would go down into history as a page of worthy accomplishment. Would they sing ballads of his great deeds, when he was six feet under? He would just have to train harder. This was his dream.

Bryk was decreasing his chances by helping some along, mainly two third-years. Every so often, a whole barn would go out for a run around the ring. If any third-years were slacking (most weren't; this was their last chance before heading off to the regular army) Bryk would try to make them run harder, give them more opportunities.

Once, he even took two third-years away from the barns for a few minutes. When they came back, they had grins from ear to ear. After that, those two were the objects to beat; Bryk had given them underhand techniques, mostly grabbing pressure points, short hair under the ear, and even using the elbow, the strongest bone in the body, to break bones.

Those third-years were skirted like the plague.

The meals weren't very nutritious. Gruel and stale bread were the staple food, although once or twice a watery stew would be served. It was marginal, but all the boys fought over it like it was a roast feast. They didn't get too much, but nobody died from starvation.

Bryk told them that not having a full stomach helped them abstain from becoming a lump of lard sitting on a throne. Even the High Prince exercised and picked fights, Bryk told them, and he went to meetings in the Council Room, and because his mind was like an iron sword, he could make crucial decisions.

Oftentimes, Colin decided he would try to be like Ganondorf, although he would have been a fool to want to be accepted by such a rough master. He had heard the nightmares, like how the High Prince intentionally left pages on the field of battle, and how he relentlessly sparred with the first year Knights, even sending a few to the hospital wing. The only good thing about Ganondorf was that he was a skilled politician.

Crawling carefully, Colin managed to find his spot on the floor. A few others were sprawled about, but they had left his blankets untouched. He smiled.

These months had made him stronger. He wasn't the weakling who pulled pumpkins out of the ground, although that had given him enough muscle to begin to build brawling muscle. His nights were spent fighting off anybody who tried to steal his scrap piece of cloth pillow, and his days were spent brawling in general. His muscles, once slim and defined, now were bulky. His hair, now a few shades darker with dirt, was only a ragged mess around his brow. His clothes were destroyed from the hitting, punching, and brawling that went along with being a page.

But he still wasn't the strongest or the fastest. The third-years were increasing in leaps and bounds, oftentimes beating the others senseless to prove their dominance. Colin wasn't sure he could take them if it came to a fair fight, one on one.

Despite what reality was giving him, he couldn't stop hoping that Cero would choose him. On the trek north, all he had watched was how Cero had held himself, how he had spoke to his loyal men, how he had moved like he was a chosen from the Goddesses. Goblins, vultures, stalfos, what Cero hadn't killed, he would when he found them. That's how far his legend went out.

That's what Colin wanted to be part of. He tried every day to increase his mind, strengthening it to be tougher than nails. What good could he be if he hated violence? As hard as he tried to bury it, there were always worms of doubt in his mind.

What if he couldn't follow an order? What if he had to kill a whole village of innocents?

Thoughts like that had crossed his mind every so often, but he threw them away. After all, Hyrule was simply guarding its borders. Twilight people were brutal, massacring monsters without a definite language. If Hyrule couldn't prosper because these creatures were encroaching upon their land, how would the farmers and civilians survive?

That was the only thought that passed through his mind now, besides eating the lean soup and stale bread, and napping with one eye open. He would train himself to be a soldier. He would be able to have his own pages when he was old enough.

That was a promise.

Maybe his father would be proud, when he returned back home. Colin could not forget that kind face, the rough hands of a farmer and hunter, the humble sword of a countrymen dedicated to his family and friends. Of everybody, his father was the one that mattered most. Colin had to become a Knight, had to show the courage and valor of Ordon Village. He would show them what it meant to be a warrior.

He yawned. Settling down on his stretch of floor, he covered his eyes with his forearms, blocking out the few streaks sunlight. Listening, he let the sounds of grunting, shouting, and thumping lull him to sleep.

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In the afternoon's white light, Talo awoke.

His mind came readily, spilling a list of injuries and wounds he had received. Only five new bruises. Two cuts. Black eye. Hmm. He was getting much, much better.

You wuss.

No matter how quiet and meditative he was, he could not shake himself from his new, attuned attitude. Fear and anxiousness gripped his heart, making it pound even though the tournament was nearly eighteen hours away. It was almost the day. He would be chosen tomorrow.

For four weeks, he had fought, taking on many of the senior pages that had been here for three years, living in the dump of shacks and destroyed brick courtyards. Recently, he had been winning all the scuffles, gaining reputation. It had all been in preparation. Other third-years couldn't be as bad as some of the nasties in his group.

Talo glowered at some of the second-years wandering by in his containment unit. He hated mulling around during the day, searching for a fight. There were other things he could be doing, instead of pushing and prodding other smaller kids around. Give him a horse, and he could practice archery. Even a wooden stick would be better than brawling. He could take care of himself!

The Page Master, Bryk, had chosen them all out last night, taking them into special consideration. Talo was disgusted when the burly, gray-skinned man had tried to excite him on tomorrow's goings. He would fight many of the third, and skilled second years. Only a few first years had been chosen, and they probably wouldn't be accepted anyway. Returning back to his ramshackle hut, all Talo could think about was if Colin had been chosen as well.

He still had not fought, or sought out, Colin. Just thinking of rising up against his best friend was unthinkable. They had been separated, all into different containments. That first day had been the hardest. He had known he was alone. Such isolation was to gain independence, but it hurt not to see anybody familiar. Even now, strange boys would sleep next to him, skin-to-skin, uncaring of his discomfort.

Quietly, Talo thought about when he had last seen Colin. His friend had been humming with excitement, ready to give up any of his possessions to be trained. In the yard, his blue eyes had been bright, and his feet anxious.

Had Colin even looked at Talo when he had scampered off into the first dorm? No. Were they likely to see each other again? No.

Talo was ticked. Every so often, he would throw himself into fights, trying to stop those rebellious thoughts from taking place. It was hard, but after scrapes and tumbles, he was doing better. Exercise definately took his mind off his frustrations.

It wasn't so bad in the dorms. He had to deal with grudges, rampages, and fights, but overall, every boy was in the same boat. At least he hadn't gone through three years of this before. What would he have done? What would Colin have done?

Despite his drive to become one of the greatest knights, Colin would have problems letting go of his memories. Talo knew it would only haunt him. Being a knight meant having no attachments, no family except brothers-in-arms. Rusl, Colin's dad, had always been around, showing his son how to fend off the strange animals with a spear, or how to fish under the ice. He even took him to ride goats. Colin was not going to give those up readily.

Talo knew he could easily transfer into this lifestyle. His family was a jumble. His father Jaggle always grumbled, but gave into Pergie, never really showing anything but resentment. What kind of life was that? Malo, the prodigy of the family, had already shown business protocol and intelligence beyond his few years.

He wasn't sure where he fit in. Beth had been his only escape, and even then, he had teased and bickered with her to hide how furious he was at his simple lifestyle. Colin never really asked how Talo was.

This was his time to shine. His family would bow before his feet, once he showed them how great he really was. Wouldn't it be grand to talk to his little brother like a three year old? His father would always be talking about his oldest son, bragging of the missions and incredible feats he had performed in the service of King Ganon. Even his mother would be stunned into silence, praising her eldest son.

What a day that would be! It would take dedication, but Talo was certain that if anybody deserved to be a Knight, it was him. Colin, for all of his traits of kindness and bravery, had a family who would accept him for whoever he was. He didn't need to be a Knight like Talo did.

Besides, learning humility would help Colin become more of a man. He was still a boy, reaching for a dream that would consume him...

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A/N: Here are just some tips, reminders, and hopefully things you'll remember.

The Dark Knight or Cero, is Dark Link.

King Ganon is not Ganondorf. He is the father of the High Prince Ganondorf. He is exceedingly evil, as he always is.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE OF MINOR RACES

Any character who has the name of a certain race from any one of the games has a set physical appearance (skin, hair, eyes, social characteristics…). Also, these races are humanoid, not like in the games with crazy fins, or flowers, or rocks attached to their backs.

ZORA: Pale tan to albino skin, straight white to green/brown hair, black eyes, and talented swimmers. Most grew up around lake fronts, villas, rivers, or oceans. Have a large sense of right/wrong but are easily innocent and therefore corruptible, and are loyal beyond the grave.

GORON: Tan to dark skin, light hair (if not mentioned otherwise), green or brown eyes, and incredibly strong. Grew up around mountains, harsh conditions. Very proud, and confused in situations, but have good hearts.

GERUDO: Olive-tan skin, red to brown hair, green to black eyes, and passionate about chosen ideals. Grew up in the desert, as nomads. Like to be very uniform, great leaders because of charisma, and wily buggers. Most are women, but a few males have been born.

VILLAGERS: As a side note, most villagers live around the city, because they believe the monarchy/dictatorship has actually brought peace. They live in terrible conditions while the rich get richer. Tend to have same characteristics, like dark blue, muddy brown eyes; lank brown hair; homespun clothes.

There aren't very many bright blued, blonde characters. That trait (in legend) had been reserved for the Goddesses' chosen. As for every genetic region, some blondes married brunettes, resulting in very few clans with blonde-haired people. They (blondes) have been elevated due to this old law as rich folk.