Well, here it is. Can you believe it? I finally got around to the long awaited (I hope?) update. Enjoy!

And remember, 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.

I became Romani Ranch's only ranch hand. The hours were lousy, the work was tough, and the pay was abysmal (and usually nonexistent;) however, I would be in a position where I could defend these oppressed women.

An hour and forty five minutes later, the delivery was completed. We were back at the Gorman ranch, where I examined the stopped horsemen.

"If memory serves, the correct spell to use would be Fast. Since they have been totally stopped, Fast will bring them to normal speed," I got on the cart and Cremia prepared to set off. I pointed at the Gorman. "Fast!"

Nothing happened. I pointed at the other Gorman. "Fast!"

No affect. "We have a problem…"

Cremia raised her eyebrows. "No wonder why. You're doing it wrong."

"How?"

Cremia glanced around for a second. "Only because I trust you I tell you this, for women practicing sorcery is disproved of by most Terminians. My mother was a dabbler in healing magic, and she told me (for she thought a little white magic was something I should learn) that when under stress, a powerful mage can simply say the name of the spell to use it. However, to use it when not under stress, you must chant magic words."

"How will I learn those?"

"Fortunately, I kept my mother's magic books. Maybe they'll tell you what you need to know."

It was a relatively quiet trip back to the ranch. Not a word was spoken; other than the creaking of the cart and the horse's occasional whinny, all was silent. Romani was asleep, Cremia was driving the cart, and I was deep in thought. Yes, I knew precisely what magic was; after all, I had created it in this world, so knowing it should have been no surprise to me. However, I could only remember the names of the spell; Majora had obviously deprived me of my knowledge of the words of each spell. If only I could experience some wonderful epiphany, I somehow knew I would remember them.

It was late at night when the cart finally arrived at the ranch. The sisters were soon asleep, and I was pouring over Cremia's spell books. It was soon far past midnight, but even as a human, sleep was no match for my will, at least not right then. I was determined to find that spark that would jog my memory to the proper degree. However, these books did not look too promising, for they covered only the simplest of magic.

I soon finished the books. Well, at least I now remembered the spells the books covered. Thankfully, Fast was a spell covered, and I left the ranch and restored the Gormans. Their frozen images, twisted with evident fury, melted away into quivering fleshy shapes of clueless confusion; it was more than a little humorous. Making for a hasty retreat, I spent the time until morning studying the magic tomes, seeking inspiration.

Unfortunately, by morning, the inspiration had not yet arrived, leaving me more than a little disappointed as I ate my breakfast and led the cows to pasture. As I somberly helped Romani weed the garden, I turned my negative emotions back on Majora.

It's trying to hold me back, isn't it, I thought. Oh yes, it most definitely is. Well, your days are numbered, foul creature! Yes, I would toast it good when I got my hands on it.

"What's wrong, Zartaris?" Romani asked.

I looked at the weed in my hand. I had mangled it to such a degree that anyone could tell I was in very poor spirits. I would rather not talk about what I was thinking, yet I knew how many children were; she would feel I was mad at her if I refused to reveal my thoughts.

"My past…I remember very little of it…" I started. "Yet I feel as if my past is one I'd rather forget, for the concept is painful." I suppose I was telling the truth, for the past was painful, and I had forgotten much of it under the influence of Majora.

"Maybe you were defeated…or perhaps something else…it doesn't matter though," said Romani. "You can forget that now, for you're in with friends now."

I nodded and continued with my work. Life was not something to be stopped; I had to accept my place for at least a little while. It was like this for weeks, when things took a turn for the worse; coincidently, it was then that I found my inspiration.

We were at Clock Town, celebrating the Festival of the Giants. It was a yearly festival, held in honor of the Four Giants; when I entered Clock Town with Cremia and Romani, I couldn't help a smug smile, for this was a festival held in honor of the protective gods I had created to protect my realm. Termina was still here; obviously they had done a good job.

We split up, each heading a different direction. Cremia left for the Farmer's Market, while Romani followed the most direct course to the playground in North Clock Town. As for myself, I looked around near the south gate, wondering how to pass the time.

In moments, I had wandered out of Clock Town. Yes, it was here that I had fought the gods. I had tried to deliver justice to other realms by subtly controlling the minds of my fellow deities. For a brief time for us gods, but many millennia for mortals, I had kept all in balance, and all was at peace: paradise. But at what cost? My wish for people to live happily, to benefit from my benevolence, had backfired horribly. My fight with the gods had not only eventually cost me my immortality, but because of my son Vulcan's loyalty to me, he had lost his life. Majora ruled the universe now; who could know how long it would be before the mask would decide to stir up some mayhem? I had really done it.

I looked around. I was standing on top of a tall hill outside of town, one that Romani had once called, "The Sacred Hill." Superstitious mortals. Nothing was special about this hill. However, I then remembered that I had often watched over my people when I was a god from this same hill. Perhaps my fellow gods had erased from the minds of my people any memory of me, but obviously they had not erased the fact that people still felt this hill was sacred.

That was when I saw him. Below the hill stood a laborer, digging up what could only be iron ore, considering its rust red color. It had been thousands of years, yet a forgotten memory suddenly came to life.

I had once done what that laborer was doing just prior to my fight with the gods. With my son at my side, I dug into the earth, almost at that very spot the laborer stood. Vulcan had wondered what I was up to, for I could have simply called the thing I desired into existence. I desired a weapon of such power that no thing could stand against it. I desired the sword I would call the Legend's Flame.

Vulcan had no clue why I had actually been digging for iron ore like a common laborer to make a sword. However, the reason had been simple. Termina was the world I had created; I loved it almost as much as I did my own son. A sword forged from the iron of Termina would be more than a weapon; it would be a symbol of my loyalty to my land. It would be more holy, for my humility in making it this way would enhance its power. It would be a sword of such power, that it would never be surpassed.

And I had failed. I, Zartaris, had failed. I had been defeated twice; by the gods, and by Majora. The first time, because I could not fight my own people, but the second time… I wanted to think that it was because I left Legend's Flame unguarded, but that wasn't the truth and I knew it. I had allowed hate and malice to totally overpower me, and if there is anything that can weaken a god, it is doing what you are not; the God of Nobility cannot be a vengeful berserker. I had weakened myself enormously without realizing it when I had allowed hate to get the best of me. I had dropped Legend's Flame, and then…

There was no use dwelling on such a past. All I could hope to do was learn from it. I closed my eyes and though of nothing but the lessons I learned from my blunder, and their morals: banish hatred from your mind. Be the god you were. Be noble. Then, it hit me. In an instant, I remembered all. Majora could not use my hatred to blind me anymore. Perhaps I was not a god yet, but I had remembered my spells and magic.

However, I now remembered that there was only one thing I needed to become a god. The immortality of a god does not come from himself: it comes from his worshippers. Once enough people idolize you, you become god of the ability they idolize most. Then, you must die, and in death comes rebirth as a god. It had been millions of years…but even I had once been mortal. I had lived a noble life, hundreds of thousands of years ago…a life so noble, that people revered me as divine when I had died. I found myself reincarnated as the God of Nobility. What was strangest, though, was what had happened when I had awakened as a god.

I had discovered that the preexisting gods all seemed to know me, and they said that I had always been one of them. Suddenly I had had memories extending from before the dawn of time, and far into the future. They said I was family, and I had felt that they were indeed my relations, though I looked different from most of the other gods. Then, when Vulcan had appeared, in an instant, I somehow knew that as a god, he was my son (though I had never had a wife or child.) However, these memories were unimportant at the moment. I had somehow managed to become a god once before, hadn't I? Surely I could repeat the feat!

With new hope in my heart, I walked back into Clock Town.