Author's Note: Sigh. Well, it's 1:30 AM, and I just finished writing. Now to some, this is not a good time to be writing. But I find the late night the best time to really get those natural skills running. Sure, my spelling sucks, but that's what spell check and beta reading's for right? Right? And you know, I was flipping through some of my earlier chapters, and I realized I forgot something. Kimo. The music man. Last I heard of him was somewhere in chapter four, and then he vanished. So, I think I'll give you a brief back story right here, for all of you who read these Author's n\Notes. Think of it as a bonus feature.

Kimo died. While running through the path of falling rocks he was crushed by an exceptionally large one and was therefore simultaneously crushed and burned to death. And no one liked him anyway, so no one really noticed, and no one really cared.

Ha ha ha. Isn't that GREAT? Okay, I'm tired, and my computer's making funny noises. I'm going to bed.

I was awakened that morning by Daruru's cries. "We are under attack! Everyone! Prepare for battle!"

I stumbled to my feet, my back aching from the rocks I had slept on. "Daruru! What the hell are you screaming about?"

Daruru pounded his way toward me. "You! While you were sleeping THEY started up the mountain! They already shot one of the Kokori! We're at war!"

"Dammit!"

I marched past him, leaving him behind in the cavern. I passed through a series of tunnels, screaming "Gornam! Acantha! Ju-"

I was cut off as someone grabbed my arm. My eyes turned to meet those of Famare. His own burned into me. "What did you do?" He hissed.

I glared at him in confusion. He tightened his grip. "Last night! Vicor told us that you took one of the horses, and you rode off! Where did you go? WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

The memories slithered into my mind's eye. A ring of fire, the cries, the screaming…

Demon…

I narrowed my eyes, then looked away. "Justice."

He forced me to look at him. I would never have expected the physical strength the old man showed. "Justice?" he hissed back. "Justice? You fool! You've ruined everything!"

"I ruined nothing!" I screamed back. "I created this, and so no matter what I do, I can ruin nothing!"

He laughed. "You arrogant brat! This is what I meant before. You are no leader. You are a man pretending to be a God, and you've ruined us all."

I struck him.

The strength evaporated from his vice-like grip on my arm. He fell to the floor, and lay there, unmoving. I could have sworn my heart stopped. I fell to my knees. "Famare?"

No response.

"Famare!"

I lifted his wrist and hunted in vain for a pulse. Nothing. Nayru's Love… What had I done?

Daruru entered the alcove. "What's wrong? What hap-"

He looked down on us. I could only guess what he thought of the sight. "He… just collapsed." I lied. I hated it. "We were arguing. His original was old. I think he… just gave out."

Daruru looked troubled. "I see." He looked at Famare sadly, as he began to alight, as so many of us do in death. He sighed, "There is no time to mourn the dead. Come, we must join the battlefield."

"Come out demons! It's time to settle this!"

I could see them there on the path. I could hear the clatter of their weaponry, their voices hard below it all. I clenched my jaw. I could see that there would be no treaty among us, no possible hope of peace. I looked to Daruru, to my left, and Gornam on my right. They too, had realized this.

All of us had retreated to the cavern, and came out above them through the higher cliffs and caves. The Gorons had blocked the main entrance with several boulders, and was perhaps the only reason that swords had not clashed yet.

Make no mistake, we had weapons. While I had slept Acantha had been busily spinning them with her magic, slingshots for the Kokori, arrows and swords for the Hylians and Zora. The Gorons had refused to accept any arms, certain that their bare fists would suffice in battle.

"Daruru," I spoke. "have you ever encountered something such as this?"

He shook his head. "No. We Gorons have been at peace for years now. Gannon had not attacked us until just before my birth."

Gornam sighed, and leaned back. "Which reminds me," he muttered, then spoke louder. "Back when Daruru was created, his Original said to you something about your own counterpart and his hateful parts. You said then you would explain to me what he meant by that. I am still waiting."

I clenched my sword, not in preparation for defense, but for the comfort of knowing it was there. "I do not believe that now is the time." I said quietly.

Daruru cautiously laid a hand on my shoulder. "Now may be the best time."

I sighed, and was silent for a moment. The shouts and threats of the people below had subsided, as they had now turned their energies toward removing the boulders. I half wished they would hurry up and break in. The oncoming mayhem would provide me an excuse not to answer. Unfortunately, Hylians are physically weaker than gorons, and some time passed before one of us spoke again.

"Link-"

"Don't call me that!" I hissed, and pounded the rock I leaned on.

Gornam sighed, his infinite patience with me wearing thin. "Then what should we call you? You never chose an alternate name for yourself, so what should we do if you refuse to answer to your original's name?"

I sighed. "I don't know. Just don't call me that name." We were silent again. The men below had at last managed to heave aside one of the boulders.

"Gornam, Daruru." I began. "Do you remember being a part of your original?"

"Very clearly." Daruru replied. "I remember leading my people through these hard times."

Gornam nodded in agreement, and I continued. "And do you remember, when you were created, how you felt you were still the original?"

They both nodded. "Of course. But in truth, we are as copies, are we not? And even as copies, we are as they are, yes?"

"Not quite." Gornam looked at me quizzically, but I could see that Daruru already knew what I was telling them. "We are not copies, not in the sense of being exact. Technically, we are them, part of them, which is why we remember being part of their lives. Do you remember the old stories, the ones about the sorcerers that used to rule these lands?"

"Yes. They would create things out of thin air."

"So the people believed. But the truth was that they couldn't create something from nothing. All that they made was made from something. It is a rule that holds strong today."

"Yes, and we are made from their shadows."

"No, their shadows are only a catalyst for the creation. Look," I pointed toward the people below, who had nearly dislodged another boulder. "look very closely."

They squinted. Gornam gasped, but Daruru nodded. Despite the blackness of the path, there were inky spots of darkness below the people. They still had shadows.

"You see, shadows are only where something solid blocks the sun. It is not a tangible medium for creating anything. Instead, we are made of-"

"Hate?" Gornam whispered, closing his eyes. The sorrow in his voice was heartbreaking. It was so much better to think that we were copies, doubles, rather than beings made of something no sane being could admire.

"Among other things. Sin, mostly. We're like… like souls almost. Partial souls. We are evil removed, evil displaced."

"Evil." He whispered, and put his hands over his eyes. "So, those people down there… without us… they're good?"

I laughed. The sound was cold, bitter. "Does it look like that? Tell me, would 'good' people be banging on the door of the 'evil', when the evil has never done them physical harm? Look at them. They're making their own evil. New evil. They can't stop. It's possible they'll build up enough to make another copy." I looked at Gornam. He was shaking. Even made of evil, he was a good man. I put my hand on his shoulder. "We may be made of evil, but we can still make our own good." I could hear shouts and cries of triumph from below, mingled with shrieks of pain.

"They've moved another boulder. The rest of the pile went with it. Some were crushed but…"

"They're coming in." I said. Daruru nodded. I stepped back from them both. "Come now, Gornam. There is fighting to do."

The shouting echoed in the caves, multiplying the battle by tenfold. We had beaten the Originals back to the mouth of the cave, but progressed no further.

I had mounted my horse, and joined them in battle. We were nearly even in number, and if either of us had an advantage in that field, it was soon erased.

Feris, I soon learned, had the first to be struck down. He was a Kokori, a close friend of the other dead Kokori Shadow, and had been near the frontlines, flinging with his tiny strength the magically enhanced stones of his slingshot. He was cut down by an arrow, not story-like into his heart, but through the neck. The Hylians had aimed too high.

In return, one of our Gerudo girls slashed through the torso of a man, who fell to the ground, and despite valid efforts on behalf of his people, was trampled into the dust.

And so we raged. A Gerudo was stabbed, a Hylians was shot. A Kokori was beaten, a townsman was decapitated. A Shadow was trampled, a Man was squashed. A shadow fell, and an original was felled.

Blood of red and blood of black spattered in all directions, and with nowhere else to go, settled upon us all. There was not just blood on our hands, but on our faces and in our eyes, matting our hair and gritting in our teeth. In the midst of the gore, it was a wonder that we managed to tell the Original from the Shadow. I'm not so certain we did.

Acantha was shot down, her chest a veritable pincushion of feathers, her magic spurting erratically from her fingertips. Daruru was shot in the eye, and while blinded, roared in defiance. He immersed himself in a mass of Them. He may have killed or wounded many, but he did not reemerge.

Vicar was fighting himself. The two of them, face to face in combat, matching one another, hunting desperately for the upper hand. The fought this way for what may have been minutes, what may have been hours, until their weapons, sparking from contact, alighted a shadowed Bombflower. Neither could have survived.

Juna's horse was shot out from under her. She shot her arrows still, killing them in close range. But arrows are useless when one cannot pull the bow, and she soon drew her dagger, and began stabbing, with both the dagger and her final arrow. I fought my way to her, and tugged her onto my horse, even as I questioned whether I should not abandon the steed in these tight quarters.

I slashed at the writhing hoard, their head's at just the right height for nearly all my strokes to be deadly. Juna stabbed. I slashed. The horses kicked. The Kokori shot. The Gorons rolled and slammed and punched. The Gerudos danced and cut and slashed. And we…

We were losing.

The horses were maimed as our enemies slashed their legs. The Kokori were shot by far superior weapons. The Gorons were surrounded and stabbed, and those that did not die instantly bled dry. Even the Gerudo, quick and lithe and defensive, were easily taken down when struck in the back.

Then Juna was shot.

She nearly fell off the horse. I panicked. I grabbed at her, awkwardly twisting myself to hold on to her behind me. Someone slashed my stomach. I screamed. I dropped her.

She was caught by Gornam. He looked up at me, but only just barely considering his size. He carefully, but quickly, lay her across lap. "Run." His voice was hoarse, like one who had been crying.

"I can't." I would not leave. I could not leave.

"Run." He pleaded again. "You can make it. There's nothing left here."

"There is! There must be."

"No." he replied. "You must go. You're wounded, you won't survive here. And she… you two can start again."

I placed my hand on my stomach. I hadn't noticed since the initial strike. I was bleeding. Heavily.

"I'll cover your escape. I'll repay my debt to you."

He then screamed. A dagger had been planted in one of his thick shoulders. It was quickly pulled out. Gornam turned, and slammed a massive fist into the offender's head. I heard his neck snap.

"Go!"

My horse ran. There was no path, so she made her own. I made no effort to change her course. She burst past the battle and into the clouding sky. Her hooves pounded down the mountainside.

I turned, trying my best to ignore the mounting pain in my stomach as I craned to see the home I was leaving behind.

I could see Gornam. He stood like a mountain, battering at his foes. I could only see his broad back, bleeding from his wound, and his arms, raining wrath upon the enemy. How he died, I do not know, for my horse turned, and he was lost.

I had not noticed, in the heat of battle, that my horse had sustained any wounds. But as we neared the Hylian Field, she collapsed, and Juna and I rolled off her back. I crawled to her, and rolled her on her back.

The arrow in her shoulder had snapped, leaving only the head and part of the shaft protruding. "Hold on," I said quietly "I'm going to pull this out."

She whimpered slightly as I grasped the splintered wood. "On the count of three. One, Two, Three." I yanked the arrow out. She screamed and bled.

"Shit." I muttered, and tried to stem the flow. Weakly, she placed her hand on mine. "It's… okay." She whispered. "I don't think I would have survived anyway."

"Bullshit." I hissed. "You wouldn't have died."

"But I am… dying… now, right?"

I gave no answer. She did not continue. I pulled her onto my lap, cradling her.

"I guess… we really screwed this up, didn't we?" She whispered, and gave a little half-laugh.

"Yeah." I whispered back.

She traced a small bit of my arm. "I did love you, you know."

"Did you?" I could feel myself cutting myself off, already building barriers to her death.

"I did. Did you… love me?"

"I guess."

"You didn't… did you?"

I bowed my head. "Not… not like that."

She was silent for a moment. "That's okay." She said. I suppose… Acantha would have been better for you."

"No!" I replied. "No… You were the first. You will always be the first. But… I don't… I didn't… I…"

I didn't really have an answer for her. She was slipping away, her eyes becoming unfocused. I held her closer. "Maybe I did." I whispered. "Just a little."

"Just a little…" She smiled. "I think…"

I don't know what she thought. Her voice became to quiet, too small, and too muddled by her lack of breath. She coughed. She wheezed. I held her close, saying nothing as she died in my arms.

I think the rain might have started falling then. It was odd, but I could have sworn the drops fell only on her face.

"Nayru's love."

I started, surprised. My gaze shot to the right, where I saw Him. Him and his horse.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered.

"I was going to ask you. Why…?"

I looked down at my arms. They were empty. I hadn't noticed, but her body had burned away hours ago. The sun had set. The moon was rising.

I looked at Him. He looked different than I remembered. He looked… tired.

"You look tired." He said.

"Do I?" I laughed. It was a cold laugh. "I suppose I am."

There was a silence. "So, why… how…?" he started.

"Time." I said, nodding absently. "In and out, following you. I had just finished…" I looked up at him. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Link stared at his shadow. He remembered, still, his battle with him. It had been hard. It had been merciless. The shadow had had every desire to kill him.

But looking at him now, he seemed so… defeated. Lost. Without purpose. Link knew that he hadn't yet battled him in this timeline.

So he couldn't trust him. Not at all. And granting him a favor would place far too much power, far too much trust.

But then… He had never been able to deny a request.

"What?"

His shadow looked up at him. No longer hunched over, Link could see that his counterpart had a wound in his stomach. It was no longer bleeding, and was already beginning to heal. Link was certain that their shared inherent sturdiness was the only reason he was still breathing.

"Kill me."

Link was startled from his thoughts. "What?"

"Kill me. Please. You would have battled me soon, but now… There isn't really a point for me anymore."

Link hesitated. "Why?"

The shadow gave him a look that was both pained and fatigued. "I tried. Truly I did. But everything and everyone I tried for is dead now." He lowered his gaze. "If it makes it easier, think of it as a mercy killing. Spare me a drawn out death."

"I can't."

The shadow looked up. "Why can't you?"

Link squatted down. "I haven't killed anyone in seven years."

"Bullshit." The shadow hissed.

"Truly." Swore Link. "I'm living these years again, switching between my life as a child and as an adult. In my timeframe, I haven't killed in years."

"So what? You nearly killed me before. Just finish the job."

"I can't. Please, isn't there anything else I can do for you?"

The shadow looked at him despairingly. He then looked at the ground. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again.

"Yes."