Chapter two:
Bongo-Bongo
Why do I have to stay here?! Why?! I want to see the outside! I want to see the sun! I want to hear others' music!
It's cold down here. Cold and dark. And did I mention a lot of spiders? I don't like spiders. I don't like ghosts either, and they're down here too. They talk to me sometimes. Sometimes I talk back, just because I'm lonely. But they don't have much to say that's positive. Mostly just dark poetry or songs.
I like their songs.
I tapped the drum-like platform in my chamber with one thick finger. A deep, resounding thump filled the room. Sometimes I like to tap a beat out on it, but I'm too depressed today.
I've only had one chance to leave this place in thirty-seven years, four months and two days. And then Shiek forced me back here. I don't think Shiek is the person he makes himself out to be. I doubt Shiek is even a boy.
It's amazing what you remember when you've been down here as long as I have.
I can remember everything about the Kakriko village I used to live in. They changed it now, and I don't remember everything, but I do remember a lot. It's still a nice place, but there are more people. I don't like them as much. The Sheikah I could deal with.
I don't know how the buildings set on fire when I escaped the seal. I didn't do it. I don't even like fire. It's too hot. It reminds me of something I don't like, but I don't remember quite what that was.
How much does it hurt to die by fire? I don't remember ever getting burned. Maybe that pain would be a better alternative to living down here.
I shivered, and wrapped my hands around my body. If I don't commit suicide, how much longer will it take before I die? Does… Gannondorf… want me here for a reason? I've heard the spirits speaking of Gannondorf, but I'm not quite sure who he is or what he wants. I asked them sometimes if Gannondorf has ever come here, if he might be able to get me out, but they didn't answer. They never do. They never do.
Beware…
Spirits. They're speaking to me.
Beware of the boy.
"Who is the boy?" I asked them. "What does he want?"
The boy is the Hero. He wants to kill you.
They answered? Why did they answer?
I didn't have long to wait. Within ten minutes (actually, it might not have been ten minutes. Maybe it was an hour. Maybe a day. Maybe only a second. I've lost track of the flow of time), a boy in his late teens dropped into my chamber. He's probably not yet eighteen, but his eyes are tired. They look old, like he's taken many lives and buried many friends. Maybe he has. I feel sorry for him.
Behind him, he has a fairy. It's… pretty. It glows, like the sun. Maybe not like the sun. I can't remember anymore…
Why can I remember the village but not light?
Why?
Link filled with unconquerable hatred as he looked at me, like I was some kind of spider. I'm not! I'm not! I don't even want to be here!
Play. Play your drums. Don't let the music die.
Okay.
I started to tap a beat against the platform, slow at first, then faster and faster. Each beat sent the boy at least six feet in the air. He casually pulled out a boy and something I recognized.
That's my Lens of Truth! How did he find it? I thought I had sealed it up under the well!
I slid into invisibility without even meaning to. The boy nocked his bow, the arrow perfectly aligned against the wood. He somehow managed to stay focused on me even when he was up in the air.
He let the arrow fly. He's a good shot. The arrow buried in one of my hands, and I let out a serpentine hiss. It hurt! It actually hurt! I never thought I'd feel pain again.
I was laughing, I was happy, but why? The arrow had buried in my hand all the way up to the feathers! It hurt so much! But it felt so good, too.
Obviously, he thought I was mad. He let loose another arrow and this one didn't miss either. This one struck my eye, and I cried out in pain. I dropped down to the ground of the platform without meaning to. He ran over to me and sliced into my eye with my sword. It felt like a balloon had popped; clear fluid dripped down my eye and face. But, for some unfathomable reason I'm sure I'll never understand, when I rose back up, I could still see.
Am I supposed to make this difficult for him? Why? I'll never win. I don't even want to win. Should I still fight? I don't know.
The boy answered that question for me. I couldn't have fought even if I had wanted to. I don't know what sword he was using, but it was powerful. He struck me with blow after blow and I knew I was dying. It had only taken four arrows, and I was dying. My body had already begun to melt.
Tears mixed with the fluid dripping out of my eye. The boy…
No, that's not right. The Hero. He was a hero.
The Hero stood in front of me, his sword dripping blood and fluid and gripped in his fists. He still glared at me with unfathomable hatred, but I don't mind it so much now.
If I could have smiled I would have. He had released me.
"Thank you… Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
I'll never know if he understood me.
