Chapter one

I smile at the rising sun as I leave the new inn I have found in a small, backwater town between the Lost Woods and the next country. I like these towns the best cuz they seem to retain the innocence of me home, untouched by the hands of time, unmarked by warfare. I open my eyes and grin at the open window, watching eagerly and greedily as the burning yellow sun. We never see such fantasies in the village, my brethren cannot take too much sun, as they are shade-loving, and they have a hard time breathing the air. So they stay hidden.

I stretch and yawn in the feathered bed (not to my liking, I prefer the hard ground meself, but the nice innkeeper's wife insisted, so I came in), ready to greet the peaceful dawn. I untangle meself from the mess of a bed and run to me saddlebag across the room, wedged in a corner where me paranoia tells me that it will not be stolen. I select a new tunic that Elenmacar, me biological father and the king of the fairies, gave me. It is green, a preference I developed over many years of green-ness, with swirly, leaf-like stitches, but not so fine as to attract unwanted attention. Elenmacar, Da, knows that sometimes it is best to hide royalty, and thus has not pressured me into taking me place as a few psychos have.

Trust me, the last thing these people want is a battle-harden swordslinger who was thus at the age of ten, for a king.

I pull out a plain, grey shirt and put this on over the grey matching pants I slept in the night before, followed by the unstained tunic, and then feel around for my leather belt. When I find it reclining on the back of an old chair, one of two around an old dust-covered table, I slide it around my slim waist and buckle it. I then gaze around the sparse room for me sword. I found it beside the bed...err, beneath me pillow, where again, me paranoia told me that it should be placed, 'less some Moblin come for me head on a platter for their dark master.

I listen to me paranoia a lot. Both Elanor and Elendil think it's Soldier's Heart, PTSD, as Rauru called it.

I fetched the sword from its fluffy hiding place, with its sheathe beside it, and placed it within easy reach while I put the sheathe straps over my shoulders. A tad too large, it is, but I manage, and finally slide the blade into its own home, while so close to mine that I fancy I can hear Saria playing. Or perhaps that is Elendil, for her playing is just as wild, but changes more often, as if Star-Lover is more manic.

:30~

Sarah rouses me by paging the beeper set on "buzz" that I keep tied around my waist. I feel it tingling the muscles on my side as I rise from sleep's domain. I open my eyes and am immediately greeted by my dirty room. I make no noise as I stand and shuck my nightshirt to search for a...possibly clean outfit in which to trudge to school.

I find one with an image of Sarah's band, Star FireLight of Dawn, medieval, naturally, emblazoned on the front with a blast of Celtic knots in silver fire, set inside a sun rising over a vast haunted, Irish-looking forest. I carefully dig out a pair of black jeans from my closet, careful not to knock anything over, as I would not be able to hear it fall.

I trudge down stares where Sarah makes breakfast. I can smell the bacon and eggs, which I don't like, but it comes cheep so I cannot complain. She sees me as my bare feet thud, loudly in a desire to *hear* against the steps of the old two-story. Sarah is in a black pair of jeans with a plain black shirt tucked in. Her fake black leather and emerald belt adorns her waist, as does a silver and emerald hairgarmet around her head, like a crown of spiderweb.

I bang my hand against the wall to grasp her attention and then ask if she has a gig. She nods, but mouths that it is after work. Right after. I will have to find my own way home. I am used to it.

:30~

I almost run down the stairs, too energized by sleep and food to do anythin' but move. The Kokiri are always energetic creatures, as are most fairies, and so this is normal. I immediately run through the tavern, already busy with the morning crowd, so that I can get to the stable where Epona waits to be brushed. I don't hear the innkeeper lady's call until she runs through the door herself and grabs me arm. She smiles and tells me that I should eat something. I shake her arm loose and tell her that me horse needs brushing, but she won't listen. She says that such a twig needs proper feedin'.

She ushers me back inside and finds me a table. I sit down, though a little defiantly, and hope that I not be recognized. The innkeeper lady hands me a plate of eggs and what I suppose is grits. I wrinkle me nose when she is out of sight. I usually find whatever I can get and cucco's eggs are revolting while grits be what coulda been a sister of Saria's in a better life.

I eat uncomplainingly. As I do such, me sharp eyes catch a glimpse of a tattered wall hangin' the Hylians use to advertise. A great purple tent is surrounded by smiling faces. A carnival? It may prove interesting. Everyone at home says I should have fun more and fight less (though aside from Mido, this be most Kokiri's advice more post problems).

:30~

I lean against the window as Sarah drives me to school. It has been a year since the orphanage let her go and let me go with her, under the pretense that they could do no more for me. Such an adventure has become routine, Sarah drives me to school, goes to her job as a video game saleswoman, then to a gig at a local bar, and I am left to fend for myself for most of the evening. I love Sarah like a sister, or a mother, even. At the orphanage, she and Eleanor were the only ones who paid me any mind. Even the matrons thought I was too stupid to be taught anymore then to eat when hungry.

The glass is cool against my skin, pressing my slightly pointed ear to my skull. Sarah doesn't talk to me, saving her voice for her gig and too much trouble to sign while driving. Instead, she listens to the radio and I strain my ears for sound. I am almost drifting back into my fantasy world where I hear Sarah's singing as we pass by a purple tent with roust-a-bouts milling around, looking groggy, but ready to make the kids happy.

A carnival?