Author's Note: Ok, well, since Word keeps screwing up my stuff (... becomes just a .), I'm gonna start using Notepad. Dunno how this'll affect you guys, but whatever. Also, if any other author's out there can IM me or something on how html tags work here... ithis should be in italics.../i Mebbe it was just word. Also, for that whole "Link out of character" deal, I know. He's supposed to seem kinda depressed, and morbid and all. Bah, I'm goin' through a blue period. But don't worry, things'll work out. On with t3h 1337 570ry!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. But I do pwn the story. Yes, I pwn it. And it pwns your souls. Thank you.
He groaned. (What's going on...?) he thought to himself. (Where am I) came the obvious next question. As he regained his senses with his consciousness, he noticed that he was in a rather soft, cotton sheeted bed. He assumed it was goose down; what else would be so absolutely soft? He lifted the thick wooly blankets around his body, and stood up quickly. He immediately sat back down, as a pounding on his forehead forced him down. He groaned for the second time, and closed his eyes, sinking back into the acceptingly warm bed. Suddenly, the door to the little cottage burst open. He immediately tensed up, but relaxed when he realized that he would be at the mercy of this person, until he was in better condition to fight. He decided, for the time being, to feign sleep. He figured it was working, as he could hear shuffling in the little room, until a sharp stick was jabbed rather unceremoniously into his side.
"OW!" he said, sitting up quickly.
"Oh, he's awake! Awake, awake, he's awake! Look! He's awake!" said the old man with a gnarled stick in one hand. The man in the bed assumed that it was a walking stick.
"Yeah, I'm awake, what was that for?"
The little man jumped and turned in one swift move, and pranced to the other side of the room, betraying the idea that he may have grown feeble with age. His long, scraggly white beard bounced, as he used his skinny limbs to scramble to the other side of the cottage. He hung the stick up, and began digging around in some sacks.
"That was to wake you up! You slept, slept, slept, and every day, I poked you!" To this, the old man giggled. "You haven't been awake since I found you 4 days ago! 3 days, you slept, you slumbered. On the forth, you have awoken! Awoken, awoken!"
"Yeah... I have 'awoken, awoken'... What am I doing here, anyway???"
"Do you not know? He does not know! Not know!"
"I... there was... a rock... why was there a rock? What happened before the rock? Why don't I know...?"
"I know, I know! Your memory! You've forgotten! Look at your forehead, go ahead."
"What?! And how do you expect me to do tha-" said the younger man, before instinctively catching a rather crude mirror, made of what looked to be highly polished silver. His reflection was nowhere near as clear is it could've been, but the shiny metallic surface showed him what he needed to see: the large, slightly bloodied bandage on his forehead.
"So... I guess I hit a rock... right?"
"He is right, he is correct! Your head hit a rock, a rock your head hit!" said the old man exuberantly. He continued to move around the room energetically, when he finally became perched atop the table. "You..." began the old man, when his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head, and his enter body relaxed. His thin, frail old body fell lightly to the floor. The man in the bed began to panic; he could not very well care for himself in the condition he was in, let alone an old man. However, before he became too worried, the old man stood up slowly.
"You'll have to forgive that, young sir..." said the old man tiredly. He seemed nothing like the juberant old fellow of a few moments ago. "I have episodes. I lose most inhibitions, my normal train of thought is interupted, and this wretched arthritis disappears completely. Do not fear; I will be able to help you back to your normal health, although I can't say much for your mind. From the looks of things, my friend, you have amnesia. Is there anything you can remember?" wheezed the old man.
"I... soft, long, silky blonde hair. I can't put a face to it, but I can remember that. And I think I was some kind of a fighter, maybe a warrior."
"Perhaps you were one of the king's knights. When you are healthier, we will try to visit him. For now, though, let us eat; you have slept for 3 days, you must be famished," concluded the old man. "Right now, I think a good beef stock would do you well. Nothing solid for a while, that head wound may make you nausious."
"Well, thank you, old man. Would you mind if I asked a question of you?"
"Not at all, my young friend. Please, feel free with any and all inquiries."
"What is your name?"
"Ahhh. My name. Yes, that is a good question," the man muttered to himself, "name's are very important, after all. What are we without a name? But then, of course, what are we with? My name has not been known for many years; no doubt longer than your existance. iMy/i name, however, is not important. But I was once a priest. You may call me that, if you must associate me with a word. And while we're on the topic of names... do you remember any? Yours, or otherwise?"
"I- No. I thought I had something there, but it slipped away. I'm sorry. WAIT! I know! When you found me, what did I have on my person? Perhaps I had something that may have identified me." Suddenly, the old man grew penceive, as though mulling a decision over in his mind.
"No, I'm afraid not," he said finally. "Now, go back to sleep, while I prepare dinner." Looking back to the bed, the old man saw that the younger was already asleep. "Yes, go back to sleep, Link, Hero of Time," the old man said thoughtfully to himself.
Author's note: Yeah, I know this one is kinda short and all, its only like, 1,000 words, but I figured I owed you guys an update. Things're getting a bit busier. Also, can any of you figure out which character idea I ripped? And no, I don't claim to own that character, either. Just the one in my story.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. But I do pwn the story. Yes, I pwn it. And it pwns your souls. Thank you.
He groaned. (What's going on...?) he thought to himself. (Where am I) came the obvious next question. As he regained his senses with his consciousness, he noticed that he was in a rather soft, cotton sheeted bed. He assumed it was goose down; what else would be so absolutely soft? He lifted the thick wooly blankets around his body, and stood up quickly. He immediately sat back down, as a pounding on his forehead forced him down. He groaned for the second time, and closed his eyes, sinking back into the acceptingly warm bed. Suddenly, the door to the little cottage burst open. He immediately tensed up, but relaxed when he realized that he would be at the mercy of this person, until he was in better condition to fight. He decided, for the time being, to feign sleep. He figured it was working, as he could hear shuffling in the little room, until a sharp stick was jabbed rather unceremoniously into his side.
"OW!" he said, sitting up quickly.
"Oh, he's awake! Awake, awake, he's awake! Look! He's awake!" said the old man with a gnarled stick in one hand. The man in the bed assumed that it was a walking stick.
"Yeah, I'm awake, what was that for?"
The little man jumped and turned in one swift move, and pranced to the other side of the room, betraying the idea that he may have grown feeble with age. His long, scraggly white beard bounced, as he used his skinny limbs to scramble to the other side of the cottage. He hung the stick up, and began digging around in some sacks.
"That was to wake you up! You slept, slept, slept, and every day, I poked you!" To this, the old man giggled. "You haven't been awake since I found you 4 days ago! 3 days, you slept, you slumbered. On the forth, you have awoken! Awoken, awoken!"
"Yeah... I have 'awoken, awoken'... What am I doing here, anyway???"
"Do you not know? He does not know! Not know!"
"I... there was... a rock... why was there a rock? What happened before the rock? Why don't I know...?"
"I know, I know! Your memory! You've forgotten! Look at your forehead, go ahead."
"What?! And how do you expect me to do tha-" said the younger man, before instinctively catching a rather crude mirror, made of what looked to be highly polished silver. His reflection was nowhere near as clear is it could've been, but the shiny metallic surface showed him what he needed to see: the large, slightly bloodied bandage on his forehead.
"So... I guess I hit a rock... right?"
"He is right, he is correct! Your head hit a rock, a rock your head hit!" said the old man exuberantly. He continued to move around the room energetically, when he finally became perched atop the table. "You..." began the old man, when his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head, and his enter body relaxed. His thin, frail old body fell lightly to the floor. The man in the bed began to panic; he could not very well care for himself in the condition he was in, let alone an old man. However, before he became too worried, the old man stood up slowly.
"You'll have to forgive that, young sir..." said the old man tiredly. He seemed nothing like the juberant old fellow of a few moments ago. "I have episodes. I lose most inhibitions, my normal train of thought is interupted, and this wretched arthritis disappears completely. Do not fear; I will be able to help you back to your normal health, although I can't say much for your mind. From the looks of things, my friend, you have amnesia. Is there anything you can remember?" wheezed the old man.
"I... soft, long, silky blonde hair. I can't put a face to it, but I can remember that. And I think I was some kind of a fighter, maybe a warrior."
"Perhaps you were one of the king's knights. When you are healthier, we will try to visit him. For now, though, let us eat; you have slept for 3 days, you must be famished," concluded the old man. "Right now, I think a good beef stock would do you well. Nothing solid for a while, that head wound may make you nausious."
"Well, thank you, old man. Would you mind if I asked a question of you?"
"Not at all, my young friend. Please, feel free with any and all inquiries."
"What is your name?"
"Ahhh. My name. Yes, that is a good question," the man muttered to himself, "name's are very important, after all. What are we without a name? But then, of course, what are we with? My name has not been known for many years; no doubt longer than your existance. iMy/i name, however, is not important. But I was once a priest. You may call me that, if you must associate me with a word. And while we're on the topic of names... do you remember any? Yours, or otherwise?"
"I- No. I thought I had something there, but it slipped away. I'm sorry. WAIT! I know! When you found me, what did I have on my person? Perhaps I had something that may have identified me." Suddenly, the old man grew penceive, as though mulling a decision over in his mind.
"No, I'm afraid not," he said finally. "Now, go back to sleep, while I prepare dinner." Looking back to the bed, the old man saw that the younger was already asleep. "Yes, go back to sleep, Link, Hero of Time," the old man said thoughtfully to himself.
Author's note: Yeah, I know this one is kinda short and all, its only like, 1,000 words, but I figured I owed you guys an update. Things're getting a bit busier. Also, can any of you figure out which character idea I ripped? And no, I don't claim to own that character, either. Just the one in my story.