Author's note: in case you haven't noticed (I don't know, because you were on vacation or your internet connection was busted or whatever) and you didn't see that chapter 8 – Part 2 has been uploaded a few weeks ago, then head over to chapter 8 – A Heavy Light Puzzle and read the second part starting with ''Ashes, ashes all around him.''

Just to prevent unnecessary comprehension problems :)

Chapter 9 – Survival in Different Ways

Link did not even notice the excited whisper of anticipation in front of him as he padded into the water. On his back, the little drops of Faron's essence jingled and bounced happily, causing Midna to hiss in pain and annoyance. ''I just hate Light!'' she murmured through clenched teeth.

Link blinked as the grapes lifted from his neck all by themselves, hovering quickly to their spring where a joyful sigh from the robbed spirit embraced them heartily. He looked after them with dazed eyes, tried to smile inwardly and be happy for them that they finally had their master back. His body, however, was just one long, tired groan of pain and exhaustion. His hind paw was bruised and blistered up to the ankle, red, fur-less and pounding awfully to get as much of his attention as it could. His left temple where Rusl had hit him with his sword felt numb and sticky and hurt as he squinted at the intense Light before him. His back was sore both from Midna's constant weight lasting on him and the hard broom-slash he had endured from a very angry Gertie back in Ordon. The light cut on his right thigh he had taken from when he had fled into the coppice was nothing but a light punching compared to the pain his burned paw was screaming out to him. He felt dirty, smoked and just plain worn, could not think straight even as the atmosphere around him changed.

His companion's legs pushed off of his back the moment it happened. Link was staring right in front of himself into the brightening water that glistened and rang with its new-found light. However, he closed his eyes as the warmth of the radiance in front of him submerged his furry body like a wave crashing down on him, squeezing him and drowning out every invading Darkness that had taken hold of him. He grunted as the now familiar essence of the shadows was pulled out of him forcefully, instead replaced by a hot shower of life that rained on top of him and cleansed him of all blackness. He noticed, while he stood there, that his occasional grunts and moans of discomfort became clearer, higher and softer as his throat seemed to be pressed shut by the intense light now consuming him.

He had nearly expected his transformation back to be pleasant, a real deliverance, but this was everything but delight which he felt at that moment.

The Light was so hot and nearly burning as it rained down on him. His sensible ears rang frantically as the sound of water and life got louder the stronger Faron became. He felt as if in the middle of a dense crowd, cowering on the ground, naked and vulnerable, exposed to all their looks and comments without any possibility to back away. He tried to shut his ears, felt his claws scrape against moving fur that shrunk back into the limbs to leave behind fair, delicate skin without any protection whatsoever. His paws changed too, became thinner, nails shrinking back like a cat sheathing its pointy weapons. He touched his face, felt the fur escape his newly shaped fingers while his nose felt crushed underneath an invisible weight. The pain that erupted from this operation let him crouch back down to the sandy water where he clutched his head fitfully, now screaming softly as the last bit of Darkness left him in chunks of black, consumed by Light that finally ceased its petty corrections on his body and apparently opined he was fine like this, all human again, without a trace of a beastly monster to be found.

The hotness faded at last, replaced by a dull warmth that coated him reassuringly and told him gently that it was all over now. Link was breathing hard in fright and pain, still clutching his head tightly and not daring to move. He still felt so vulnerable, ready to fall to pieces at the faintest blow of wind or be swept away by one of the small waves now rolling peacefully over the water's low surface. He could still hear every sound around him intensified a hundredfold, every bird chirping, every branch cracking or leaf rustling. So as a low, calm voice rang out in front of him, he rolled himself together further while pressing his head protectively against his arms.

''O brave youth … you who brought Light back to these trees, hear my words.''

Link blinked a few times to focus his mind on the airy, low notes of Faron's voice, now getting back on his hands and knees while looking up at the spirit. He flinched back in fright as he saw him towering above him nearly threateningly, wearing a stern face that looked, compared to Ordona's goat head, drastically human. Yet, big long ears showed that he wore more resemblance with the furry inhabitants of the woods than the humans walking his forest, it was however the incredibly long tail, drawn like a canopy over the spirit's body and the precious Light orb he held protectively in his arms, that truly made him monkey-like.

''While the people of Hyrule were reduced to mere spirits of their former selves, you have been transformed into a blue-eyed beast. You have surely wondered why.''

Slowly, Link nodded. His chords were still sore from the transformation back after having emitted only grunts, snarls and barks, causing him to distrust them and their ability of producing decent, human-like sounds.

Faron inclined his head once while his glowing eyes bore into Link's. ''That was a sign. It was a sign that the power of the chosen one resides within you, and that it is awakening.''

Power of the chosen reawakened what? Link thought dizzily, squeezing his eyes shut while he shook his body wolf-like to force his mind to alertness. It was only then that he noticed, around his chest and down to his waist, something heavy and jingling that had been fastened to him. It felt rather flexible despite its weight, and smelt metallic.

Oh no, more chains? he thought with a tired frown. His mind was so exhausted that he couldn't think straight any more, presuming that it was now a bigger shackle that enclosed his entire body and prevented him from moving normally. As he wanted to tear at it, however, Faron's voice stopped him in mid-motion. ''Look at your awakened form, o brave Hero.''

With this last sentence, all the loose strings in Link's brain seemed to find their counterpart at last, setting the complete mess in his mind from tiredness into place once more. He remembered everything, from the tiniest detail of his heightened senses the moment he smelt his way through his cell, how he found himself in the body of a wolf, and how he so desperately wanted his human one back. Feel himself standing on two feet again, without this distempering tail trailing behind him all the time, bringing him out of his balance instead of keeping it, be freed from those long sharp teeth plastered with the taste of black blood from those horrible shadow beasts and Twilight insects, hear his own voice with his soft Ordonian accent once more instead of a guttural grunt and growl for every word …

His head had been hanging low from exhaustion, the image of his newly formed fingers only a blur in his weary eyes. As his pupils focused, however, his lids widened while he noticed that it was not his grey, furry, clawy paws he saw there, in the water where he knelt, but a pair of elegant, brown leather gauntlets where the fingertips had apparently been cut out. Additionally, something heavier and harder was attached to his left forearm, bearing ornate patterns across its length.

''Wha–'' he croaked out softly, now lifting his chained torso to rest on his shins in the low waves, looking like mesmerized at his hands. He never wore gauntlets, let alone this additional thing he could only describe as a bracer. Both looked a little worn, but lovingly taken care of. Where did he get them, by Nayru?

While inspecting his hands, his look fell on the rest of his body, which was not wound into chains at all, as he had foolishly thought. In fact, it was pine green wool cloth that smiled back up at him, fitting perfectly over his breast where it formed a rectangular collar with a V-cut in the middle, all stitched together with green finger-loop laces. A sea of tiny rings looked out of the green garb, seeming to disappear behind the collar. As he followed the links with a shaking finger, he found more of them underneath that draped over his torso and stomach nearly possessively, not letting a single part of his exposed upper body unprotected. Golden they shone, but by their weight and the use they had been given, they could not be out of gold. What other kind of metal was golden? Brass, surely.

A brass chain mail! One that only the finest and richest knights in Hyrule could afford to wear. But … there was something wrong, he was not a knight, let alone a rich one! He was only a poor ranch hand who possessed naught but a silver rupee and a labour horse as wealth.

As he slowly stood up and looked down further, he noticed that his chin was flanked by two flaps of white fabric, apparently composing the tighter collar of an undershirt meant to protect him from the friction of the chain mail that was not his. It moved down to cover his elbows where the dark green wool cloth stopped in two short sleeves, the shirt reaching down to his wrists where it was covered by the gauntlets. Further down himself he saw a set of tight, beige leggings, their waistband covered by the green cloth and chain mail that formed the tell-tale, short skirt of a tunic. The ends of the leggings were neatly packed in a pair of high leather boots reaching nearly up to his knees. A belt was wound around his waist, and another one clutched his shoulder and right side where it traversed his chest diagonally, supported by a smaller strap embracing his other side. This equipment, fixed and ornamented with a brass buckle and button that held the smaller stripe against the bigger one, slightly reminded him of the makeshift fixture he had crafted out of a rope to hold his sword safely on his back. Had it the same use? As he touched it with a hand and turned a little to gaze at his back, his look fell on another green shade that swung back the moment he moved, letting him feel something shift on his head. He groped at it, pulled at it, and held in his hands a floppy, pointy cap, so long that its tip reached to the middle of his back.

His voice was scratchy and hoarse from its beastly form a few moments ago. ''What is all this?'' he asked, more himself than actually the spirit. His mind was so utterly surprised to find this noble garb over him that he didn't really take in the fact of possessing his humanity once more.

Faron inclined his head and responded to the confused Hylian. ''The green garb you wear once belonged to the ancient Hero as Hyrule called upon him in her hour of need. Now it is passed on to you, for it is the true power that slept within you. You are Link, the descendant of the ancient Hero. You are the new Hero chosen by the Goddesses.''

A snicker swept up from his shadow, but Link could not hear it. Only the heavenly words of the spirit played in his mind, hitting him like a hard blow in the face. He was what?

For what seemed a very long time, he stood there and stared at Faron, not bothering to close his mouth that had fallen agape. The guardian watched on in silence, letting him take in the heavy information he had passed to him. Yet as the prolonged stillness of the youth apparently grew a little weird, he spoke up anew. ''Link, chosen one, Hyrule needs you. She weeps beneath mantle of shadow that coats her and her inhabitants like a veil, put there by the king that rules the Twilight. You must match the king's power, and free the people.''

Link tried to negate, to tell him desperately that he was not the one, could not be the one to do that. He had not even seen Hyrule in all his life, and now he was told that he had to save her. He would do anything he could to help in a heartbeat, but to be the one, and surely the only one, to stand up to this king of Twilight and defeat him, was beyond him. He would never make it in a thousand years!

Even if he knew that the spirit could hear his reeling thoughts, it seemed as if the heavenly being ignored them. ''Long, long ago, I and the other Light Spirits were called upon by the Goddesses to lock away a certain, dark power. It was split into three pieces and then sealed in each part of the kingdom to be guarded by its spirit. It is the only power strong enough to stand up to the king that rules the Twilight.''

He cocked his head towards the road behind Link, one of his ears pointing north. ''The piece I protect is locked away in the temple north from here. Proceed there, o brave youth, and seek this forbidden power. It is the last hope Hyrule has.''

Link finally moved when it was already too late. With a last nod, Faron slowly faded back into his spring and didn't respond even as Link raised a hand to him. ''No! You're mistaken! I – I'm not a Hero, I have nothing special about me! I'm just … just Link …'' Yet as his gaze wandered down towards his outstretched left hand, he felt it, shining there, emitting a faint ringing as it called out to him. He put the cap back on his head where it embraced his skull perfectly, and pulled his left gauntlet away. This quaint symbol that had accompanied him his entire life, hurting softly in the night, waking him from peaceful dreams, and that was now reacting to his doubts and protests, caught his entire attention while he stared at it fiercely.

Yes, it was true. Deep inside, he had always known. That triangular mark had never been there by accident, its strange behaviour never random or unexplained. It had told him, all along over the winter and the last few weeks it had shone in the night along with his nightmares, what awaited him beyond the woods. The strange feeling of the forest in the early spring, these unsettling thoughts that something was always creeping up to him, even if he could not see the threat, his insatiable desire of learning as much as he could about the monsters of Faron, and his curiosity of seeing them with his own eyes despite suffering from the poison of one, all of it had never been just stomach-aches and cold wind blows. It had come from deep, deep inside of him, an urge to destroy every evil tipping the balance of peace and threatening Hyrule's, and Faron's, inhabitants. He knew now why he had ran into the woods after his kidnapped friends instead of hurrying into town to call the other men for aid. This desire to save everyone threatened by Evil had been stronger than his common sense. The selflessness to sacrifice his own safety, or even his own life for the sake of others, was in his blood. It was the blood of the Hero.

Without thinking twice, he turned around and walked at a quick pace out of the spring, turning on the road direction north. His right foot which was clad in brown leather was hurting profusely now, as well as his right eye, his back, his thigh and, as he noticed just now while walking along the road, his left arm. He looked at it, only to find the thick shackle of his imprisonment still attached to his wrist with the piece of chain jingling along. He halted briefly to gently pull the clasp down a little, as much as he could, revealing a dark bruise and a red, shallow cut crusted with blood. He hissed in pain as he touched the blue skin, and immediately turned on his heels to head south. His right foot was so numb by now that he limped more than he walked, and his eyes stung from tiredness and the smoke of Bando's fire still somehow lingering in them.

''Hey! Where do you think you're going?!''

He jumped high as the irate sounding voice rang out seemingly from right underneath him. As he leaned forward, a black, slightly transparent face appeared right in front of his nose and let him jerk back in fright. He had completely forgotten his Twili companion.

''Faron said north, and that is not north!'' she called, pointing at the road he was heading down. ''If you think you can just run off because you're afraid about this whole Hero thing, forget it! You're going to that temple and getting this power Faron talked about, understood?''

Link nodded, but instead of turning around again he pulled his shackle up and showed her the purple bruise. As she looked at it, a disgusted grimace washed over her face. ''Ew, you should likely do something about it, get this thing off and all that.'' Link nodded again, resuming his stride south. He had nearly forgotten that he could now speak to her, with a proper mouth at last, so he cleared his hoarse throat and addressed her shadowy form without looking at her. ''I'm heading to Ordon to make preparations. Then I'm going to the temple.''

He looked up at the sky, seeing the sun at last as well as a few stars that already appeared through the veil of dusk. He thought quickly, looked down at his aching foot, felt the small cut next to his eye, then headed off as quickly as he could down the Southern Road. His companion had fallen silent after his reply, and soon he heard her retreat into her unlikely hideout that was his shadow. He'd never know how this worked, but then she came from an entirely different world where such strange things were apparently of a complete normality. He just had to think of this giant wall of blackness marking the boundary to the Twilight, which could only be entered when someone from inside pulled you in. The Twilight, as dark as it was, surely held some wonders he would never forget, and never understand.

He had to hurry if he wanted to find the right spot. But his scorched foot was rendering every step more painful than the last one. Additionally to the forming plan in his head, he had to find this tree he knew was able to treat the cut on his eye and wrist, as well as water and some berries for his famished belly. A little crevice in the earth to his right showed him the entrance to the place he was looking for, and he immediately darted into the trees and through the coppice.

Soon, he arrived at a small, flat spot between the trees where he crouched down and pulled two long branches out of the remaining, orange leaves of past autumn. Placing them parallel on the ground, he moved between them and laid down on his back, looking up to see where they ended above his head on either side. One of them was longer, so he quickly broke the excess off while drawing himself up once more and hurrying back into the thicket, his searching eyes fixed on the ground where he soon found more branches laying around. Taking as much of them as he could in his arms, he pulled them back to the two long poles and began to break them down into equal, smaller pieces.

''Eh, what are you planning on doing there? Weren't you heading back to that village of yours?'' came Midna's confused reply soon enough as she appeared out of the dark shadow underneath Link's crouching position.

''Not enough time.'' he answered without looking up. ''I'll stay here for the night.''

''What?'' she burst out. ''You can't be serious! Have you forgotten there are monsters everywhere? You'll get eaten up and never save your friends! Is it that what you want?''

Link was now using one of the branches to dig into the moist earth between his two poles, having removed his gauntlets and scooping the loosened dirt out to form a shallow pit. He didn't respond while he worked, soon causing his partner to throw her arms down angrily, producing no sound due to her absent body. ''Answer me, scum! You said you'd go to Ordon to make preparations and then head to the temple! And now you are delaying yet again! Staying here for the night is suicide!''

Link turned around sharply, standing up to face her hovering form. ''It is suicide to travel through the woods at night, even on the Southern Road.'' he countered, his voice never losing the calm of his personality. ''The risk that I get ambushed is too big to take. And then we'll never get to that temple. If you so desperately want to go there, then head off, I won't stop you. Without your body you can't be attacked anyway, no?''

He saw that this last reply stung quite much, for Midna's brow twitched in anger and hurt. He almost wanted to apologize, but then again had she hurt him a lot more ever since she had gotten him out of that cell, so a little revenge was too sweet to be avoided. And anyway, what was she still doing here with him? Why didn't she leave him with his own problems and headed off herself, if she was only there to patronize him?

Midna's single tooth made an appearance as she growled. ''Fine. Do it as you like, I won't be able help you when you get killed by monsters since you so correctly affirmed that I don't have a body any more. But just so you know, even if I had one, I wouldn't help you anyway!'' With this she turned around and flew right into the crown of a tree standing nearby, hovering over a lower hanging bough and showing him her back while she obviously pouted. Link watched her sitting there, one hand cupping her chin while her legs had crossed, and shrugged mutely before continuing the digging of his pit. May she do whatever she wanted, he definitely didn't need her any more, having now regained his true form and setting to use the entire knowledge he had collected in his life about surviving in the woods, at night, finding himself with absolutely nothing but a heavy garb that only did as much as camouflage him with its green cloth amidst foliage and moss.

After having dug his pit about twelve inches into the ground, he sat to work filling in the hole with the branches he had broken down into identical pieces, laying them parallel next to each other across the entire length of the pit. A second layer he put over the first, this time placing his branches crossways over the first row of wood. He knew that the forest ground would cool down drastically at night, and if he wanted to survive while he regained his strength with a few much needed hours of sleep, he'd have to preserve his body heat. Building this wood mattress would separate him from the cold earth and thus prevent him from losing too much warmth.

Comfort was something he rarely needed, but for his aching back he'd sacrifice a little of his precious time he had before sundown to look around the trees for the softest, driest leaves he could find, which he strewed over the wood. As he tested their squashiness by pressing down on them with his hand, he nodded to himself while standing up once more, looking around the coppice for the next bit of material he'd need for his shelter.

Two Y-sticks, about a metre high, he stuck into the earth at the end of both poles, entwining them at the top. Then he broke off a young, flowering acorn growing high next to its bigger parent, its tender trunk barely three inches wide, which he dragged to his mattress and rested one end on the Y-sticks while the other end dug itself into the ground at the base of the leaf-bed.

While he was looking for more branches he'd line up vertically against the frame to form some sort of tunnel, he accidentally stumbled over a loose stone lying around. As he inspected it, he grinned widely. Silex, he thought. Now I'm truly a lucky man. Silex was the stone he always used to lit his lantern. Since that chunk of flint was quite big, he could split it in half and use both pieces to produce a spark and, with a little skill, a fire.

Putting the flint on his mattress not to lose it again, he continued the building of his shelter by throwing handfuls of leaves over the finished frame, piling the debris up as high as he could. By now, the sun was slowly disappearing behind the trees and bathing the air in a chilly spring cold. Link worked as quickly as his worn body allowed, finishing his debris hut by building a small tunnel with the aid of pliable, green shoots which he also covered with leaves, just big enough for his body to shuffle through by moving backwards on his belly.

Huffing out, he stood before his finished shelter with a tired smile on his lips. Now on to the next important job, which consisted in making a fire.

Making a fire could be incredibly easy as well as the most difficult thing you had ever done. Link knew that embers were needed to lit a proper fire, and to produce those he needed a suitable tinder. While he was working on digging another smaller pit for his flames so that no danger consisted in lighting up the entire forest around him, he cast a curious look up the tree in which Midna had retreated. She had not moved from her pouting place, still hovering over the high bough, had turned around however to watch him work. Out of boredom or curiosity, surely, Link thought while he quickly set his attention on his fire and the chunk of silex he was now smashing against a bigger stone to, hopefully, split it. It did not work as he had expected, partly because he was immensely tired, but also because his hands were starting to get painfully cold. As he threw the stone down with a huff, one of his fingers slipped and was hit by the flint, causing him to hiss sharply while blowing on his pulsating, lightly bleeding finger.

''Dear Sols, I can't watch that any longer.'' Midna's soft mutter rang out from her tree as she flew down to him, coming to a halt over the wood and tinder he had piled up inside the hole. Link watched her with confusion while she snipped her fingers once, letting him gasp as a rain of sparks fell on the fireplace and set the tinder immediately aflame.

''Well what? Blow on it, you stupid wolf! It'll go out again!'' she said annoyed, folding her arms while Link quickly bend down and blew on the glimmering tinder until a happy flame erupted from it, licking greedily at the branches.

''Thank you.'' he said, his voice sounding utterly surprised. Midna just grunted out before flying to her bough once more, back turned to him, resuming her initial I-absolutely-don't-care-about-you position. The Hylian watched her, still thoroughly flabbergasted, before quickly noticing his fire cracking and demanding more food like a crying baby.

She did not watch him any more as he went into the darkening woods to search for the famed Juniper tree he knew was blooming now, stopping at the Spirit Spring to take a long and much needed drink. She did not watch him as he crushed the collected, blue berries from the tree with the useless flint to form a paste, which he smeared onto his bruised wrist and eye as well as the light cut he had received while trying to split the silex in half. He knew that the berries of the Juniper tree had antiseptic abilities and helped light cuts to heal better. Thanks to Uli, and his unquenchable curiosity and desire of learning as much as he could, he owned this basic knowledge of herbal remedies which had, along with the debris hut, already helped him very much while being on long hunting trips, either just with Epona or accompanied by Rusl.

The last ray of sunlight had now disappeared from the world, and Link decided it was time to put his building into use. He put as much wood on his fire as he could to hopefully scare off wild animals and monsters as well as helping his body to get warm, and cast a last look at Midna still sitting back-turned on her bough. She didn't move, and he already thought about asking her if she was cold and wanted to sit down in front of the fire. Yet he thought twice about it, remembering that she was now a body-less phantom of a Twili while being in the light, a mere shadow of her former self, and had thus no feeling in her airy limbs whatsoever. He couldn't help but wonder what it must be like, to fly around with only your voice indicating that you were still part of the living world. His good-hearted nature made an appearance once more, letting him feel a little sorry for her and now regretting his mean comment earlier. He noticed with lifting brows that it had truly been the very first time he had actually hurt someone verbally, without apologizing. It felt wrong and bad to him now, the feeling of sweet revenge completely gone from his mind.

''Midna?'' he asked quietly, standing right in front of her tree and looking up at her. As she didn't react, he called again and this time resulted in an angry grunt from her while she turned around to face him. ''What?!''

''Do you want to sit down next to the fire? It's warmer down here than on that bough.''

She stared at him with a slightly surprised look, but quickly erased it once more and replaced it with a despising one. ''Thanks but no thanks, I'm quite good up here as far away from you as I can.'' She turned around once more, obviously trying to ignore him. Link understood with a painful sting in his heart that she was truly deeply hurt by how he had spoken to her. What else could conjure this loathing?

''Listen,'' he said, still looking for any reaction from her. ''I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I just don't know what it's like to have no body.''

''Well then be happy with what you have, and stop apologizing! I don't need your pity!'' she spat back, now standing up and flying higher into the leaves where Link could not see her any more. He gulped at her loud reply, now a little taken aback. He concluded that it was best if he just let her alone for the night to cool off, and try again tomorrow to talk with her. He thought it necessary, for she had freed him from his imprisonment and had helped him in collecting Faron's lost light, and he had been so overwrought by fatigue and shock about his revealed heritage that he had not even made an effort to thank her. True, she had really hurt him too and had made fun of him, but maybe it was just her way of speaking to strangers. He bethought himself to settle those things as soon as he saw her again. It was the least he could do for her.

Checking on his crackling fire, he looked around the darkness encircling him with strained eyes, nodding mutely in resolution before making his way into his debris hut. It was big and high enough so that he could turn on his back once inside and seal the entry to his shelter by loosening the leaves on the narrow entrance tunnel. If ever a creature should walk by in the night, he knew that he was safe. Should it poke its nose at the big heap of debris, he would be shielded by the strong scent of leaves around him. Should it try to dig its way in, he'd wake from the loud rustling it would make. And should the night be cold, he'd be well insulated both from around him and from underneath him, the cleverly constructed hut preserving the heat his body shed nearly perfectly.

After what seemed an eternity, he could finally close his weary eyes and let sleep take possession of him. And it didn't even last two minutes before he was fast asleep, safely packed inside his shelter, with the crackling fire burning gently down through the night, and the glowing red eye of his companion silently watching over him. He did not know it, did not hear it, but she soon moved down from her high place and sat by the fire, winding her small transparent arms around herself while staring into the glowing flames. And what Link would never learn, she decided fiercely, was that at that moment, a small tear streaked down her cheek, dropping noiselessly on the ground beneath. He would never learn, he would never understand.

0

Punctually at sunrise, when the first birds started their symphonies to greet the arriving daylight with their cheerful songs, the tunnel to the debris hut burst open from a gloved hand which groped on the ground for a root to pull itself out. Moaning, Link emerged from his makeshift cavern, crawling out on hands and knees and stretching himself like a dog. His still sleepy eyes scanned the brightening area around him, looking for any signs of a possible threat. No footprints littered the earth except his own, and no sound but the birds above his head rang out to him. All was clear.

The fire was, to his great astonishment, still glowing a little, and he quickly gathered some dry leaves from his mattress not touched by the chilly morning dew and used it to blow to life a small flame once more, nourishing it with wood. The crackling warmth heated up his freezing fingers pleasantly, and for a while he just sat there by the fire, warming his taut body.

''Well well, are we all safe and sound?''

He looked up with a lifted brow, seeing the single, ever-mocking eye of his companion set on him. She was hovering opposite him across the fire with arms folded, gazing gloomily at him. ''I must say, I'm impressed. You managed to truly survive this night and were even able to sleep. You're not too shabby a woodsman after all.''

The Hylian blinked in surprise at that, realizing that it was actually meant as a compliment. So he had guessed right, she just needed to cool off when she was angry in order to have a decent conversation with her once more. ''I told you it would be safer to stay here for the night.'' he answered. ''It's not the first shelter I've built to pass a night in the forest.''

''Well, I hope you'll not have to build one for every night, it'll only slow us down. And I'll not tolerate that, I'm telling you immediately.'' She glared at him like an offended boss, moving her foot as if she were tapping on the ground with it. But due to her hovering body, it looked a little odd.

''No, don't worry. I should have an oilskin somewhere in my house that I'll take as alternative tent.'' he answered while rubbing his hands together over the fire. As he was about to stand up again to fetch some more wood for the flames, something clanked on the ground right in front of his feet. He jumped back and looked at it, recognizing Rusl's wonderfully crafted sword and Jaggle's shield lying at his feet.

''Now that you don't possess any claws any more and are as vulnerable as a rabbit, I'll be so generous and lend you my sword and shield.'' Midna said while pointing a hand at them. ''And by the Goddesses, you ought to be grateful for that, after how you spoke to your master so insolently last night I should be slapping you a hundred times instead of helping you!''

Link stared at her a little while, cocking his head. So she was still on her master-and-slave trip? He sighed as he leaned over and took the weapons in his hands, nodding to her. Sometimes, it was best to just play along. ''Thank you, master. I'll take good care of them.''

As Midna heard his devoted reply, a wide grin immediately crossed her lips. ''Oh, now that is way better! At last you learned some manners with your new mouth, how satisfying!''

Here we go again, Link thought downheartedly as he weighed the magnificent sword in his hands. She soon disappeared once more in his shadow as he didn't say anything else, instead setting to work with the shield and, most importantly, the handle that would fit on the fighter's arm to hold the protection. Jaggle had fastened a leather strap right into the middle of it where the arm could fit through, the handle, however, was at the wrong place. The shield was made for a right-hander who would put it on his left, but Link had to hold his sword in that hand while his right one would wield the protection. If he managed somehow to change the handle's place to the left of the leather strap, the problem would be solved.

As handle, Jaggle had used another leather band which he had nailed into the wood. Cautiously, Link set the shield with the goat head down on the ground and held it in place with his knee while his left hand gently pulled at the leather and the nails. His renewed strength enabled him to pull hard enough, soon resulting in the two metallic spikes to come free. Luckily Jaggle had used rather short ones not to pierce the shield on the outside, with a wide head that didn't tear right through the leather as would small ones. Like this, the handle was completely intact as he carefully hammered with a stone on the nails to fix it at the right spot.

He tried the shield out by slipping his right arm through. It fitted him perfectly, wasn't too big or too small, and most importantly it wasn't too heavy. Yet a little something intrigued him while looking at the back of his new weapon, which consisted in a metallic hook fastened at the top of the shield. He cocked his head as he inspected it, now setting it down once more and removing the shoulder belt that was still attached to his new garb. If this device was truly what he thought, then he already had an inkling about what this hook was for.

The shoulder belt was a truly ingenuous device, as he quickly found out while eyeing it. The solid sheath which was hanging from the back and almost reached to his knee bend, was composed of a long piece of carven wood attached to the back of the belt and encircled by a metallic rim at the top and bottom as well as a coat of brown leather to protect it from rain. The sheath, however, had an incision in both sides that traversed the entire length and stopped about seven inches from the tip. As he traced them with a finger in wonder, he only understood its purpose by pulling an invisible sword out of the wood. The blade was the longest part of the weapon, and had the sheath been as long as the metal, with the hole at the top the only way of retrieving it, he would never have had the chance of pulling it out from his back with only his arm, which would be too short. It would get stuck in the sheath since his arm had to move to the side, and in a battle this would be his death seal.

That was where the cuts in the wood came to his aid. They allowed him to pass the long blade through one of them first, then pull sideways before letting the tip run through the second one in order to pull it out. Simple, but effective! And seeing a little leather loop on the back of the shoulder belt, just big enough so that the hook of his shield could fit in, he would also be able to carry his protection over the sword, the two of them like a back pack and not disturbing him in any way while he was walking.

Quickly enough, he had glided the masterly crafted sword into the sheath, which fitted in almost perfectly. Putting the belt on his shoulder again and fixing it with the aid of the buckle, he pulled the blade out, put it back again and retrieved it once more without any difficulty, the two cuts in the sheath working like magic. The weapon felt so good in his palm, as if it was always meant to be there. He swung it around a little, testing its weight, ran a hand over the silvery blade and performed a quick turn with his body wherein he slashed the sword hard against a nearby tree. It didn't vibrate in any way as had his first metal sword, as weak as it was, but withstood the blow without as much as a quiet, satisfying ring. Link was totally amazed by the wonderful object and could not help but stare at the long, deep gash it had left in the bark of the tree.

''Yeah, yeah, great. But could you quit playing around and do whatever you have to do so that we can finally go to the temple?'' Midna asked from behind.

Her words let him freeze right where he had prepared himself for a second blow, suddenly remembering why he was actually swinging this new blade around. He had to defend himself against all sorts of monsters with it, surely by killing them, while he was heading to the temple Faron had spoken about. For a short moment he had actually forgotten about the devastating truth the Light Spirit had revealed to him, that he was meant to save Hyrule from her peril by using that forbidden power and defeat the king of Twilight. For this short moment he had still felt like an innocent child playing with a new gift, but as Midna reminded him of his initial goal, all the gravity that had been so light before came crashing down on him again, and nearly crushed him under its weight.

He let the tip of the blade touch the dirt as he supported himself on the trunk, sighing deeply. Was this still a very bad, very realistic dream in which he found himself? He felt drastically awake by now, could sense his entire body still sore and numb from all the wounds he had received while being in the body of a …

Of a wolf … it had not been a dream …

His arm propelled him away from his supporting tree as he sheathed the blade, quickly put the shield on his back and stomped the fire out. Maybe he'd not be able to defeat this king of darkness, but at least he'd have the chance to search for the kidnapped children while travelling to the other two temples. And maybe he would even find out why those monsters had raided their homes, had taken the kids and had caused such terror and chaos over the entirety of Hyrule.

0

I'm the only one who can do something about the Twilight because I'm not becoming a spirit. A simple reason to choose him, but in his opinion it was not enough. Why did the Goddesses choose me? ME? Why not a true fighter or someone who has at least seen Hyrule and knows where to go?

For the three hours it took him to travel to his home town, he was weighing out the pro and contra about himself, and the reasons why the three Goddesses that had shaped the world so long ago, Din, Goddess of Power, Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom, and Farore, Goddess of Courage, had chosen him to stand up to this invading king that ruled over the Twilight. As much as he cogitated about it, he could not comprehend it. As he was halfway through a decent explanation that maybe they had made a mistake, his look always fell back on his left hand where he knew that the grey triangle, the triforce shape, was plastered over his skin. Every time it seemed to ring out to him anew, to tell him that he was truly the one, and the only one, who was capable of doing it. And every time, this feeling of utter powerlessness, that he had no means of escaping the duty the Goddesses had burdened him with, washed over his reeling mind and let him hang his head in despair.

A Hero … How could he be called a hero if he had not even accomplished a heroic deed yet? Was it because of his heritage, that he apparently was the descendant of another certain Hero from ages passed? Who was this person of whom Faron had spoken, his ancestor? What had he done to be called a Hero?

Those questions, and many more, tumbled and bounced around in his mind during the whole journey back, and as he finally crossed the boundary to Ordona Province and passed by the Spirit Spring, he suddenly felt an immense apprehension about returning to his native village, remembering quite well that horrible night where the men and women of Ordon had chased him all around the houses with only murder and vengeance in their eyes. What if they asked him about those new clothes he had received? About the sword and shield that he, as a wolf, had stolen from them and which he was now carrying? What if Rusl recognized the wolf that he was before by the gash next to his right eye, which the blacksmith had put there himself?

''Oh Din, help me!'' he gasped as he nearly ran into his destroyed yard as quickly as his scorched leg allowed, racing his ladder up and banging the door shut behind himself. He stood there, panting heavily in panic, pressing himself against the door and trying to listen to the faintest sound indicating that maybe one of the villagers was there, waiting to slaughter him as the beast that he was. But nothing except his own, heavy breathing rang back to him from the walls of his safe home while he looked around, taking in the familiar scent of wood, bark, smoke and soot he had known ever since moving in.

He exhaled long while he let himself glide down his door to sit on the planks, pulling up his legs and resting his pounding head in his palms. What in Farore's name had happened to him? It had been such a lovely day, his heart had already been a few miles in the woods on the way to Hyrule, and in a heartbeat all his homely paradise, his perfect life, had turned completely upside down. First those monsters taking the children, his little brother and his best friend, then his transformation into this wolf beast, then that annoying, pestering imp Midna, and now those strange green warrior clothes with a chain mail, an ingenuous sheath, a pointy cap … and Faron's revelation that he was some sort of Hero awakened in Hyrule's hour of need.

With a grunt he scrambled back to his feet, limping over to the table where he sat down with a huff. He was just now noticing that his belly had been growling and grunting in protest for the biggest part of his travel, begging to be filled, and he decided that he'd surely be able to think straighter once he had appeased his hunger. Rummaging through his small pantry next to the fireplace, he found a few potatoes and two of his first spring onions he had already harvested a few days ago, and immediately sat to work by hooking his pot over the cold logs and quickly lighting a fire with his flint and steel he had packed in one of the two saddle bags he had wanted to take to Hyrule, which were still standing on the table, evermore waiting to be taken away.

The heavy sword and shield soon annoyed him as they clanked softly on his back, and he pulled the shoulder belt over his head to rest them on the ground. While he waited for the oil to heat up, he took one of his immense knives from its hook and hacked away at the potatoes and onions. He didn't even see what he as doing while his mind sat off again, playing the frightening scenes anew of Rusl standing right in front of his hiding place under the broken stable roof, the soot of his torch flaking off and falling on the wolf's trembling fur, Link's heartbeat pounding in his chest so loud that he thought the hunters might hear it …

His knife slid out of his hand and clanked to the floor. He looked at it as it laid there, at his booted feet, and it took a little moment for him to actually realize it had fallen down. After having picked it up and looking at his mutilated potatoes, he chuckled slightly. Never had he cut a potato diagonally, with the skin still on, each slice bigger than the last one.

He let the vegetable lie and went to the barrel next to his crockery shelf where he took a scoop full of fresh water and drank as much and as long as he could. It felt so good, the cool liquid running down his throat and already working to fill his famished stomach, at least until he could concentrate enough on his cooking to make a decent meal. As he looked into the barrel, seeing his reflection as it moved around with the droplets dripping from the scoop, he realized just how plain awful he actually looked. His once hazelnut hair had taken on a dirty brown colour, sticking to his filthy face with mud and ash. Seeing his portrait, he deduced that the rest of his body didn't look better. He smiled slightly as he imagined what Ilia would say if she saw him now. ''Oh, look at you, you rascal! You really need to have a wash!''

''Yeah, you're right.'' he said to himself, making an inward note that he'd fill and hang up his bathwater kettle once his potatoes were ready. With the water now hydrating him enough that he could already take the knife and cut the vegetables without trembling, he sat to work taking care of himself before doing anything else. If Faron, and the Goddesses, really wanted a Hero to save their land, then they had to let him prepare himself.

And Midna as well, by the way.

''This is taking too long. I mean you actually think that taking a bath is more important than getting this power of Faron's?'' she said as she popped out of his shadow soon enough while he was pushing his wooden bathtub into the main room. The moment she appeared he twitched quite a bit in fright, having completely forgotten her once again, and silently decided it was maybe better to bathe with a towel around his waist from now on.

''This is not just to get clean again, Mid– … master.'' he answered, and watched her pointy tooth make an appearance once more as she grinned broadly. ''Like this I can see where my wounds are, and treat them as best as I can.''

''Yeah, well you should likely take care of that stupid shackle first, it's incredibly annoying to hear it jingle all the time. Gives me a headache.''

She was right, he thought, for that pestering shackle had hindered him quite much while he was cooking. The remaining chain always caught on something or just whipped at his legs as he walked, hurting every time. There was just the problem with getting it off; he felt a strange fear and aversion about going into the village and meet the ones that had tried to kill him barely two nights ago. It was nearly overwhelming, as if his entire being was controlled by this instinct and just saw the threat in those humans, persons he had actually known his entire life as his family, which he loved and who loved him. It was just stupid to think that they'd harm him now that he was back to his former self.

But … this aversion didn't go away, even as he tried to argue with himself that they really weren't dangerous, that he was just being paranoid.

''So? Are you going to that blacksmith or what?'' Midna's voice cut through his struggles. He looked at her, then at the shackle and the bruise underneath which urgently needed to be treated as well as the little cut that had undoubtedly been infected by the rusty metal. He had no choice but to go to his surrogate parents and get patched up. To make things a little easier, he'd leave the sword and shield here, he decided, to avoid the more difficult questions he might have to answer. Maybe like this the fear of encountering them again would be a little easier to overcome.

He nodded, trying to look sure of himself. ''Great!'' she called back. ''Then go ahead, but be quick about it, yeah? No dawdling around!'' With a silent gulp, Link turned towards his door, breathing in deeply to encourage himself. Damn, where was this panic coming from?

Ordon looked quiet, much too quiet. Even if all the other houses and gardens were completely unscathed by the attack compared to Link's poor yard, it didn't feel the same as it always had when Link walked into it. Normally the townsfolk would be working in their garden, or fishing, or practising swordplay by the little boardwalk at the creek, as Rusl had a habit of doing. Yet as Link stepped along the dirt path past Fado's carven tree, he could hear nothing but the everlasting burbling of the Ordona Runnel curling quietly around the houses and a few sad birds chirping on the roofs. No human activity, no chanting or laughing, no life whatsoever. It felt as if Ordon was completely abandoned.

He carefully limped along the road, looking at all the windows and doors for any possible attacker. His heart had begun pumping fast again, letting him hear his pulse pounding his already aching head and intensifying the pain only more. He felt watched from every corner he passed, twitched at the slightest sound that was not the river or his own limping footsteps. As something rustled a little louder behind him, he turned his head around sharply, but it had only been a bird grabbing a worm and flying off again.

He was just about to set his eyes back on the road when he bumped hard into something – or since he heard pretty much the same 'oof' he made being emitted in front of him as well, into someone.

''Ow, can't you be more careful where– '' a male voice said in front of him, but broke off as the man set his eyes on him. Link could only shrink back a little, not knowing what to do or to say. It was Moe who stood before him.

''L … Link?'' the farmer stammered, approaching his head a little while blinking a few times as if he was just seeing a fading ghost. The basket he was holding in his hands crashed to the ground, startling Link more than himself.

''Link!'' he exclaimed, laughing out once before throwing his arms around the stiff youth. ''Oh sweet Nayru, we thought we had lost you!'' He pressed the smaller Hylian tightly against his muscular body, and Link suddenly felt all this fear about seeing his family once more being squeezed out of him by the farmer's tight embrace. He wound his own arms around the man and just held him firmly, just relished this moment of security after having been thrown into so much torment and fear. Moe had always been like an uncle to him, being around the same age as Rusl, and hearing his strong, deep voice was an immense relief to his quaking heart.

Moe let go of him rather quickly, his apparent joy being heard in his voice as he called to the remaining empty houses. ''Link! Link is here! He's safe and sound!'' He even reached to his belt where his own goat horn was attached on a leather band, and blew in it several times to draw as much attention as possible. Turning to the youth while letting his cornet fall to the ground, he surprised Link by hugging him a second time with tears of happiness now flowing from his eyes. Already, the sound of multiple doors being thrown open around them rang out, stirring the abandoned village nearly harshly back to life again. First one to reach them was Fado, his home being the closest, but soon all the others were pouring onto the path and shouting out Link's name in sheer relief and happiness. Gertie and Harold came out a little more sluggish, but the old farmer was swinging his walking stick around like a scimitar while pulling his panting wife along the road towards Link and Moe. Jaggle and Pergie came rushing to them and nearly threw Link over with hugs and a bunch of smacking kisses from the spirited woman. Kila was howling in joy as she galloped towards them with a sickle raised, followed closely by Hanch and Sera, the latter nearly dragging her minuscule husband along the street. Last came Bo, his eyes looking drowsy and red from tears while his belly bounced up and down with his quick steps.

''Link! Where have you been?'' ''By Ordona, you look terrible. What happened to you, lad?'' ''Is that … a chain?''

It took several tries from Bo's booming voice to settle the villagers down again, allowing the very last of newcomers to take in the return of Ordon's oldest child. As Link saw them, her with her two arms draped over her swelling belly and wearing her gentle, slightly worried gaze, and him looking battered and beaten while supporting himself on a long branch, he could not control himself any more as he jumped into a sprint and threw himself into his parent's loving embrace.

Uli gasped in joy as he reached her, throwing the blood-soaked towel she was holding in her hands to the ground and greeting him with tears in her eyes. ''Link, my child! Oh, where have you been all this time?''

''My son …'' Rusl's weak sounding voice vibrated against Link's chest. ''Goddesses, what did they do to you?''

His voice was soft and tired from the wounds Link saw once more, and upon hearing the smith's last question being posed nearly desperately, he couldn't hold himself together any more. With a sudden gasp he threw his arms around his father, holding him as tightly as he dared to prevent hurting him more than he already was. The tears were flowing ere he even realized it, but he didn't give a thought about the water now leaving his eyes in rivulets as he buried his pounding head in Rusl's chest. ''Oh Rusl, I'm so glad you recognize me!'' he sobbed, noticing just from the corner of his vision how the other denizens approached the two, Uli stepping right beside her adoptive son to hug him as well. The wounded man cast a puzzled look to his wife upon hearing Link's last reply, but she just shrugged while caressing the youth's hair lovingly.

Link did absolutely not bother about the fact that he was now crying in his parents' embrace, with the entire village watching and a surely fuming Midna hiding in his shadow. For this brief moment, he did not care about what they might think of him, or if he looked immature to their eyes. He had passed through terrible events over the last few days, and having at last the opportunity to let all this fear, all this shock and fright he had constantly lived be washed out by his flowing tears, was a relief even his returned humanity could not top. Just finding himself in the arms of someone he could trust once more, who was finally not taking him for a dangerous monster and wanting to hunt him down at all costs, just finding himself in an environment he had known his entire life, extinguished the horrible things he had seen for at least a small, delicious moment. There would be plenty of time afterwards to try and come up with a plausible explanation for his disappearance, his resurfacing and the strange, noble clothes he was wearing. But now, letting the inner pressure of his mind and soul go was a treatment he needed even over medical attention or the removal of his chain. And no one, not his insulting companion, not the Goddesses or Faron who wanted him to travel to some distant temple and retrieve the ancient power slumbering there, would keep this moment from him.

There was a time for everything.

At least he hoped so.

000