Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

The clock struck one in the morning. Romani had fallen asleep, and Cremia was dozing. Then, I remembered something…wasn't I supposed to meet with my family and tell them whether or not I had been successful in getting a job? A full five hours ago, I remembered as I looked at the clock on the mantle.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself talking with Farore. I spoke mentally.

*Farore, are you awake?*

No answer. She was asleep.

*Wake up. It's me, Zartaris. I must talk to you,* I thought, putting more emphasis on my words.

*Yawnn…Zartaris, is that you?*

*Yes it is.*

*Where are you? We were worried when you didn't show up for the meeting.*

*I'm at the Romani Ranch again. Several thugs are planning to do something awful to them.*

*When will you be back?*

*I don't know, but when I do, I'll tell you.*

*Ok…did you get a job?*

*I did indeed! I've been guaranteed a position as a town guard. And the others?*

*Darlen started working at the Lottery Shop today, but the others are finding jobs hard to come by.*

*Well, good luck. Talk to you later.*

*Bye.*

I cut off the telepathic link and looked around. It was late. It was dark outside. My eyelids were growing heavy. I will not fall asleep, I thought to myself.

I jerked my eyes open and inwardly cursed. The black sky had been replaced with dawn's first light. I had been asleep for several hours. I sighed with relief as I glanced around; the girls were unhurt, sleeping peacefully. Cremia moved, and then sleepily opened her eyes.

"Oh, good morning, Zartaris."

"Good morning, Cremia."

Cremia got up and shook Romani gently. "Get up, Romani, it's your turn to milk the cows."

Romani opened her eyes and yawned, picking up her bow and arrows from the ground next to her chair. "What time is it?"

"Dawn," Cremia replied.

Romani stood up, rubbed her eyes, and walked to the front door.

"Wait! I'll go with you," I got up and picked up the scythe. "I thought the Gormans would try to attack last night, because they had said it would be news today. Perhaps they meant to attack today."

Cremia nodded. "I suspect they will attack at 6 tonight. That is when me and Romani will take the Château Romani to the Milk Bar. We will have to drive our cart right past their ranch, and if they block the road like last time, the shipment will be a sitting duck. Wipe it out, and we'd lose a lot of money, and possibly our contract with the Milk Bar as their sole supplier. Château Romani is so popular there that if we mess up a shipment, they would probably have the Gorman Ranch start delivery."

"A nice, neat way to wipe this ranch off the map. No killing or provable criminal activity, just a pile of broken bottles, a lost shipment, and a suddenly prosperous Gorman Ranch. So neat and clean that it is sickening." I made a fist of my hand and relaxed it. "Sickening that people like that can get away with things like that. Disgusting."

Cremia nodded. "I'll go make breakfast." She disappeared into the kitchen.

I followed Romani out to the cowshed.  As she milked, I gave the scythe a few tentative swings at an old bucket, not trying to hit it, just trying to gauge the agility of the weapon. It took a good deal of effort to get it going, and was difficult to stop. The fact that it was unwieldy showed how deadly it was: once moving, it would slice clean through almost anything. It also showed that it would not be a good weapon to use on a shaky cart.

I picked up a pitchfork and tested it out. No good. To make it a weapon required me to put my strength into moving it. If I missed a target, I'd fall out of the cart. Next was a shovel, but it was also ineffective. I finally settled back to my scythe, for it was still the best choice. I tried not to think of the possible battle ahead.

Romani finished milking. "Zartaris, could you help me move the cows into the pasture?"

"Certainly." I pulled open the door and led the first cow outside, towards the green fields. Romani came out with a second, and I came out with the third. "Only three?"

"We're a small operation," said Romani. "Cremia says we used to be bigger, though. Cremia told me that when Dad was alive, the Gormans set up a tent on the edge of our property, near where the Gorman ranch house is now. They lived there for seven years, and they used the squatter's rights laws to take the piece of our property that is now the Gorman Ranch. We could not sustain more than three cows with what was left."

I clenched my teeth and followed Romani back to the house. As we stepped in, I could smell the warm aroma of eggs and bacon. I sat with Cremia and Romani at the table and started eating. It was, in one word, delectable. Then, I had a remembrance, a recollection from when I had been god of Termina. I had visited one of my people's homes, and I had stayed for breakfast. It was the same stuff, bacon and eggs, but it had tasted horrible. Even my tastes have changed, now that I am a human, I thought. I now remembered sweet ambrosia, the food of the gods, as the most disgusting sludge I had ever tasted. Interesting.

"That was excellent, Cremia," I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

"Thank you. It's really nothing," she smiled. "Romani, we need to tend the garden today."

"Aww, sis, do we have to?"

"Unless we want the caterpillars to eat our vegetables, and the weeds to choke out the plants."

I volunteered my aid.

"We need you rested for tonight. We can't risk tiring you out in the garden."

"Cremia, I really must insist. For me to do nothing while you work is like leaving a debt unpaid."

"Yes, but neither I nor Romani are very handy with weapons. Think of tonight as payment."

"I'm good at the bow and arrows!" protested the younger sister. Cremia said nothing in response.

I saw that Cremia had made up her mind. "Very well, I'll rest." I sat back on my chair, defeated. I watched as the sisters left.

It was nine thirty. I had a long wait. Closing my eyes, I began imagining a battle plan. I would have to somehow compensate for my grossly awkward weapon, and it was very possible that I might have to use it on a moving target with the wagon below me moving. Combined with the fact that my scythe was only four feet long would make things very difficult.

I considered all my known alternatives. I could call my family for help, but they had their own lives to lead, and none of them were good fighters. I could alert the Clock Town guard, but they would not arrive until it was too late. Perhaps I could storm the Gorman Ranch, set loose the horses, and keep them busy chasing them? To risky, I decided, because if I were caught, the girls would have to fend for themselves, and I had no clue how Gorman Ranch was laid out. Maybe we could disguise the shipment, or transport it on several horses? No, because if the plan was discovered, each rider would have to fend for himself or herself.

I was so deep in thought that I did not notice the time at all. In what seemed like moments, I was eating lunch, but I was focused on my plan, and I couldn't really pay attention to anything. Time was an enemy, and it passed all too quickly. In what seemed an eye-twinkling, Romani and Cremia came in.

"It's time," said Cremia. I was startled; she must have noticed my anxious fidget. "Nervous? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong. This scythe maneuvers like a plow. I'm worried how it is going to do in battle."

"The best thing to do in that kind of situation is to not worry. Worry will not accomplish anything. Are you ready to go?"

"I suppose so." I got up and picked up my scythe. Following Cremia, I left the house and walked to the cart. It had, of all things, a covered top. There was only a small opening in the front and back. The restriction was yet another strike against my chances of defending the women successfully.

I boarded the cart, which was drawn by one stocky horse. I looked at the horse with surprise. We were probably going to need all possible speed to safely get the Château Romani through the Gorman Zone, yet we were only using one horse?

Obviously, Cremia noticed my surprise. "Don't worry about the horse. His mother is Starlight, the fastest racehorse in Termina, and his father had the strength of several ordinary horses. If we need speed, Moonbeam will deliver."

"If you say so," I replied. The cart was full of bottles, except for the back and front. I sat down beside Romani in the front, and Cremia shook the reins. The horse started forward with surprising ease; perhaps Moonbeam would work after all.

The cart rumbled past the ranch gates, onto the Milk Road. It was smooth sailing.

"Estimating Clock Town in an hour," said Cremia. Romani pulled out her bow and strung an arrow, just to test it. She put it away, and we continued.

We rounded the first blind corner. So far, so good. Was it possible, I wondered, that I had made a mountain out of a molehill?

Another blind corner. No Gormanian attackers yet.

"Get in position, Zartaris!" said Cremia, jerking on the reins. The cart flew forward, vibrating like a launching rocket.

I looked back. The Milk Road had been blocked by a gate. I felt a sudden chill as I clambered past the bottles and got into the back of the cart. We were in Gorman territory!

Romani stood next to me, her tiny bow in hand. "I've got ten arrows. I'll help, Zartaris."

Someone shouted, and a second shout joined in. Our cart swept past two horsemen. They were dressed in white robes, and wore stocking caps over their heads, with holes for the eyes. They rode brown and white horses, galloping towards the cart. I held my scythe in position, ready at a moment's notice to swing forth.

One of the horsemen suddenly burst forward with extra speed. He whipped out a pitchfork and aimed at one of the crates of Château Romani. As he came into range, I swung my scythe. Not only did the clumsy blade miss, but I was nearly dragged over the side by its momentum. As I prepared to swing again, a large dart nearly hit the horseman. He fell back, and I saw Romani string another dart sized arrow to her bow.

Both horsemen charged. I swung my scythe, too early. As I had feared, the reaping tool was useless in this type of combat. Romani fended them off, using five arrows, fired in rapid succession. Three missed. She had only four left.

They came in for another attack. I readied my scythe, though I could have now predicted the result easily enough. They were at six…four feet. I swung. Mid swing, the scythe shook violently, and then swung easy. Of all things, the blade had come off! Romani used the last of her arrows to fend them off.

They were homing in for the kill. The Gormans approached, full power, pitchforks targeted and ready. Out of desperation, I swung the long scythe handle at one of the attackers. It smashed into his horse's head, surprising the unfortunate beast. It reared, but the Gorman onboard was skilled enough to get it under control.

My feet were strangely wet. I looked and saw a crate, stabbed by a pitchfork, leaking Chateau Romani. Before I could act, the pitchfork withdrew, dragging the crate with it. I could do nothing more than watch as one of the crates crushed against the ground.

Both attackers came with redoubled fervor. Two sharpened, tri-pronged, barbed pitchforks locked on to two crates. I swung the handle at one of the attackers. At that second, one of the pitchforks angled upwards, caught the handle between the prongs, and deflected it. A quick twist of the pitchfork, and I found myself empty handed. Two crashes; two crates lay split and shattered on the ground.

There was no ending their attack. They leapt forward, and another crate was pulled over. Fortunately, the other pitchfork missed its mark.

I was enraged. I was livid. I was insanely angry. For one moment, I forgot the fact that I was no longer a god. Those demons were attacking my children. They were attacking those I had personally cherished. Those mongrels were doomed. "Stop, you fiend!" I shrieked, pointing my finger at one of them.

No sooner had the word 'Stop' left my tongue, a magical aura surrounded me, vanished, and then surrounded him. He and his horse stood, suddenly stone still.

Romani paled in an instant and shrank against the wagon's cloth top. I glanced back and saw Cremia staring back at the frozen Gorman, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She closed her mouth and said something silently. Anyone skilled at reading lips would see that she had said, "A wizard?!"

I had no clue where it was from, but I intended to use this strange power. I pointed again, to the other Gorman, who had recovered from his shock and who, instead of running, was stupidly renewing the assault.

"Ice!" I felt the magical aura return, but I missed. Instead, I blasted a tree behind the Gorman with a subzero wind.

"Stop!" This time it hit. The Gorman was quite still.

Cremia pulled the cart to a halt and looked at me with astonishment. "You're a wizard?!" Romani was shivering with fear. Cremia put her hand on her sister's shoulder.

It was three second explanation time. Quickly, I readied my speech. "I must be," I said with considerable genuine surprise. "I didn't know I had it in me!"

Romani stopped shivering and looked at the shipment. Out of ten crates, we had lost four.

Cremia breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. One more less and we'd break the contract. Minimum six crates weekly."

I looked back at the stopped Gormans. "We'll finish the delivery, and then I'll try to wake them up."

"Leave them asleep!" Romani spat.

"Romani! Shame," scolded her older sister, "shame, shame! You sound just like them now. If we don't un-stop them, we're just as bad as they are."

The younger sister grudgingly nodded.

Romani's statement, 'they will just start up again,' made me feel a certain urge. So what if I was going to be tossing away a 2000 rupee per week job? I committed the ultimate in irony; a god was to become…"Cremia, could you use a ranch hand?"