Link-The Long Walk
Before the light had disappeared completely, Link had spotted a dusty table just inside with an old lantern. He had quickly strode over and lit it with the flint striker lying next to it. Pale yellow light pooled around them, illuminating a good four spans all around them. This was no problem as the tunnel was just wide enough for three abreast, and with one way to go…
They walked in silence for a long time. Cool air blew in from somewhere, chilling their sweat drenched clothes. No sign of pursuit followed, but the uncertainty of it kept their nerves on edge. "So," Link started, attempting some form of lightheartedness, "you play ocarina huh? That's an unusual talent around these parts. Maybe you're from pretty far off huh?" He kept his voice down, the echo in the tight space making the sound louder. Quentin kept walking, not responding. Link tried a different tact, "that sword possesses some powerful magic. I thought I saw you go down." Water dripped from somewhere close by. "I remember." Quentin's voice came as a dry rasp. And he told a story.
Quentin-The Past
"I come from a long line of scholars." Link looked over his shoulder, lantern light leaving half his face in shadow. "really?" I nodded, "Yes," I added, he had already turned around, "I lived in a small village with my parents. People would come from all over the land, some from distant countries to access our vast library."
Link cut me off asking, seems like a bad place for a library. Some unprotected village?" I went on, "The village unprotected? Yes. The library? No. The scrolls were kept in a vast, underground chamber. Safe from fire and theft." My inner eye saw the scene. "There were crystals imbued with magic which provided clear, even light with no flame. Almost a mile of shelves, holding many thousands of scrolls. From all over people would bring food and gifts to aid us in our search for knowledge. In return, we educated many in all manner of things. From farming, to crafting, history, you name it.
"Sounds…nice." Link voiced. From his tone I could tell it sounded horrible to him. Not for him was a life spend mostly underground cataloging and tending scrolls. I barked out a laugh. "Only the retired, some family members researching, and visitors stayed in the library!" I answered his hidden meaning. "No, the young carried the responsibility of collecting wisdom from across the land for safe keeping. We were to go and add to our great stores. I say we, but I can't include myself." My voice took on a somber edge. "I was someone who wanted to leave and 'adventure' as my parents called it, but not in the family career. The scrolls were wonderful, but I wanted something different."
"A Warrior's life?" Link asked, a smile in his voice, "We aren't paid much." "Do you do it for rupees?" I snapped, heat flaring. "No." Link murmured. "Not for that." Sensing a great sadness, my anger melted away. "I got a sword instructor. Learned a few things. Fancied getting my own."
"It's a heavy burden." Link spoke up again sounding distant. My eyes flicked down to my sword belt. "I know," I said. "I told my parents I wanted one, but weapons were not something visitors brought us. I would have to go out and get one. We receive gifts for our service, but these come in useful things like needles, cloth, things like that. Rupees are something not really seen in our village. Everything is shared out equally, or close enough. We are all family after all."
"Sounds nice." Link said urging me on. I cleared my throat. "Well that's where our troubles began-my lust for a blade."
Thunder rumbled outside the shuttered window as we all sat at table. Mother and Father were talking over some obscure piece of knowledge, and my younger sister, ten, gobbled her food like a starving man. The shutters were loose allowing chill air to penetrate the room, nudging the hanging lanterns and moving shadows across the floor and around the furniture. I pushed some food around on my plate, morose after another argument with my father. "I want to go out and find some work!" I shouted only minutes before. "I've learned as much as I can with practice swords and I'll never get any better unless I have a real one." My father, red faced, shouted right back. "You are too young to be wandering the country side, running into who knows how many bandits, who would gladly split you in half save for the fact that it would ruin that fine tunic." "You can't have me watched all the time!" "I'll just sneak out!" defiant with every word. "NOT ANOTHER WORD!" my father roared, purple now. He took some deep, calming breaths and turned to change the subject with my mother.
I was busy pushing more food off to the corner of my plate when a pounding came at the door. I dropped my fork in shock. It was quite late and nobody was expected. The knock came again, followed by a squeal from the floor boards as Father pushed his chair back. "Who calls so late at night?" he called out in a loud voice. We waited seemingly for minutes, before a reedy voice replied, "just a visitor Good Master, and one quite wet for the rain." Father harrumphed, opening the door. A shabby looking man stepped in our house soaked to the skin, throwing his hood back. He was old, the skin on his face sagged, and he possessed a large-hooked nose. Bent backed he hobbled in, trailing water over Mother's floor until he reached our blazing fire. He grinned an almost toothless smile over his shoulder at Father and thanked him saying, "Oh it's so good to be out of the chill and in a room with a warm hearth." "Got to get the cold out of these old bones." Father cleared his throat, "old man, its late. State your business." The old man's eyes twinkled and he said "I need a full belly and a pallet by the fire, and I'll share with you my greatest discovery." He cackled, and broke off in a rattling cough, "you won't believe it!"