Prologue
It was another snow-filled evening on High Hrothgar when Klimmek finally arrived with his weekly deliveries to the Greybeards. The dim torchlight of the monastery's shrine out front cast eerie shadows that loomed as long and large as the mountain's resident troll. When he had first started making the weekly climb up the mountain, the darkness and quiet had scared him. Now, he expected it.
What he hadn't expected was an additional shadow wedged between the large storage trunk and the shrine wall. Klimmek lit his own torch by the sconce on the wall and made a closer examination.
"By the Nine," he murmured, quickly dousing his torch in the snow and scooping up a tiny, shivering mass in his arms. He never hesitated to wonder if he would be disturbing the Greybeards at this time of night, or if there would be penalties. They were monks, after all. Klimmek doubted they would resort to violence, especially in a situation like this.
He pulled and released the knocker on the door. Even through the blizzard, he could hear the hollow "thud" bouncing around the interior. Five minutes passed by, and it seemed that no one had heard him. Just when he was about to knock again, one of the doors slowly opened.
"Elder… or, um, Father," Klimmek stammered. Brother? What do you call a Greybeard to his face? he thought.
"State your business," said the Greybeard.
"I'm sorry, but we need shelter, if only briefly." The elder thoughtfully stared at Klimmek, then at the bundle in his arms. Finally, he opened the door wider and stepped to the side. "Thank you," the Ivarstead resident nodded before hurrying inside. Not seeing a piece of furniture in the main hall and not willing to press on the monk's hospitality any further, Klimmek approached a stone fireplace. He was just about to set down his load when the Greybeard stopped him.
"Wait," he said simply, gently pushing him away from the hearth. Klimmek watched with wide eyes as the monk took a deep breath, seemed to adjust his stance, and shouted "Yol". The Nord's eyes got even wider when the fire appeared to light itself. The Greybeard was still for a moment, quietly watching the flames and taking a deep breath. Then, he stepped aside, and Klimmek finally knelt by the hearth and carefully placed the unconscious form.
She was most definitely a child, he had decided; but of what origin, he was unsure. She had the golden hair and general look of a Nord, but she possessed ears like unto the Elves. Despite the cold weather, she appeared dressed for a spring or summer day – a light blue blouse covered in small white flowers cinched to a pair of loose brown trousers. If Klimmek could venture a guess at her age, he would have taken her for eight or nine.
His observations were interrupted with the reappearance of the Greybeard. He hadn't even noticed the monk disappear until he was walking towards the hearth with a bundle of blankets.
"Thank you," he said, taking them and covering his charge with as many layers as possible.
"On the contrary, thank you," the monk replied. "It is quite rare for us to receive a visitor on any day, rarer still to receive multiple guests."
"You mean you don't know her either?" The Nord sat on the stone floor. "I found her huddled up by the supply chest."
"What were you doing there?" Klimmek didn't answer. It was not the Nord custom to take pride in deeds, no matter how good they were. Thankfully, the monk understood. "I see. I take it that Eltere has passed?"
"A few months ago," Klimmek admitted.
"You carry more than one burden then." The Greybeard knelt on the floor with the company. "Your father volunteered to bring us supplies when he was your age. It was the first contact we had with the outside world in decades. Here—" he was scooping his fingers into a container of light grey gunk. "If you will brush her hair aside, I can treat her."
"What is it?"
"Your standard healing salve. It should restore her senses within a few hours." Klimmek obeyed, and the Greybeard spread the substance across her forehead and under her eyes and nose. The Nord noticed that the child's breathing was becoming steadier and deeper, and that color was slowly returning to her face. "To answer your question, son of Eltere, she is not one of ours. Our monastery has not had child apprentices since the few of us residents were in our youth."
"A long time ago then," Klimmek muttered dryly.
"Indeed." The monk appeared humored by this. "On the contrary, I had thought she was yours when you first arrived. You carried her like your own child."
"I don't have children. I'm not even married."
"Have you ever considered monastery life?"
"You're joking." The barely suppressed smile from the Greybeard confirmed that he was. "Very funny. This may be why you don't get guests."
"Most definitely."
"That and…" Klimmek's voice faltered upon remembering the fire his host had summoned from the air. The monk, seeming to read his mind, nodded.
"It is very likely that everything you have heard about us is true."
"You speak the words of dragons."
"And you speak the words of Man. Both are languages. Mine is just lesser known."
"What you did was magic."
"Perhaps. But, since we are on the subject of magic, consider this." The Greybeard looked at the girl. "Very few people have ever made the path up the summit. It is called a pilgrimage because it is a long and arduous journey. Clearly, you were trained to do this by your father. Before him, there was hardly anyone else willing to trek this far. Now, this is the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel, filled to the brim with beasts and beings beyond imagination. And yet, here, at the top, you discover a child, without armor, without a weapon, without any form of protection. Do you believe that should be possible?"
"Honestly?" The monk nodded. "No. I can't make sense of it."
"Nor can I. I suppose then, you might say that everything about her, everything that surrounds her is of magic." The Nord didn't know how to answer this, so he let the Greybeard continue. "In the recent past, my brothers and I have been studying the heavens. Odd alignments have been observed, which we could only discern meant that something strange was coming. Perhaps, this child is that strange thing."
"She's not going to stay asleep forever."
"No indeed."
"And you don't sound like you're about to take her in."
"Do you see a child enjoying the company of a bunch of old kooks?"
"I…" Klimmek had expected this response, but he still felt a twinge of despair. "I see."
"You are wondering what you must do."
"I'm wondering what I can do, what I should do. She probably has a family out there somewhere. But, if she doesn't, if she's by herself – I can't just leave her alone."
"I understand."
"I don't know anything about being a father."
"Which is why I find it ironic that you thought any of my brothers would know."
"I suppose that was foolish."
"Brother?" came a soft whisper. Looking down, Klimmek saw that the girl had begun to open her eyes. They were a bright and vibrant blue, squinting in the light of the nearby flames. "Link?"
"You're safe," Klimmek said. "We're with the Greybeards at the top of the mountain."
"Greybeards?" she mumbled. "What do you mean?" She strained as if willing herself to rise, but remained grounded. "Where's my brother?"
"It was just you, child." The Nord noticed that the monk was not about to contribute. "But, I'm sure we can get you back to your brother with some work. Where is your family from?"
"Castle Town." Klimmek cast a puzzled look at the Greybeard, who nodded his head in encouragement.
"I can't say I've heard of that place. Who is your Jarl?"
"My what?"
"Are you not from Skyrim?"
"Is that somewhere in Hyrule?" Despite the panic in her voice, the girl's eyes had closed again. Another startled look passed from Klimmek to the Greybeard.
"I… can't say I've heard of your homeland either," the former admitted.
"Where… where am… I…?" Before the Nord could say another word, the girl had drifted back into unconsciousness.
"Leave her," said the Greybeard. "She's clearly exhausted. The more rest she gets, the faster she can heal."
"She said she was from… High Rule? Is that like High Rock? I'm not familiar with any place in Tamriel with that name."
"Then perhaps the answer is as simple as that," the monk mused. "Perhaps, she is not from Tamriel at all."
"If that is true, then hope may be lost."
"Perhaps not." The elder rose to his feet. "I shall meet with my brothers and master as soon as time allows. While we convene, you and your charge are welcome to stay here. We will help you in any way we can."
"Your master?"
"Contrary to popular belief, son of Eltere…"
"Klimmek."
"Klimmek then – my brothers and I are still apprentices, constantly studying the Way of the Voice. Our master is older than any of us. He should know what to do regarding this strange twist in fate." Klimmek rose and bowed his head.
"Thank you again for your hospitality, Brother…"
"Arngeir."
"Arngeir. Thank you."
"You're most welcome. I shall return with provisions for you as well. A shock like yours is not easily overcome." And with that, Arngeir disappeared down the hall.
In another land, far away, a princess knelt by the side of her fallen knight that had given his life to save hers. He had not yet lost consciousness and struggled to keep his eyes open.
"Stay with me, Link," the princess pleaded. "Hope's not lost yet."
"Princess…"
"We can still win this. We can still stop Ganon. Just stay with me."
"My… sister…"
"Aryll?" Her eyes widened. Link had hardly been one to talk; moreover, he hardly spoke of his family. She had known he had a sister when he was conscripted into Hyrule's fighting force. But with all of their focus on defeating Ganon and restoring peace to the kingdom, they had hardly had time to discuss her.
"Make sure… make sure she's safe. Zelda, please: watch over my baby s…" His voice trailed off and his head sank to the ground. Zelda felt the hot tears running down her face as she embraced her Champion. Every part of her wanted to scream at and curse Hylia. There was hardly anyone left in the remains of her kingdom to rebuke her. Yet, she swallowed hard and lifted both herself and Link into a stand.
"It shall be done, Sir Knight," she said, wrapping one of his arms around her neck. "But first, we must do what we can to preserve you."
"Princess?" came the voice of a woman. Through the smoke, she could see her bodyguard sprinting in her direction.
"Impa, quickly: we must get Link to the Shrine of Resurrection."