Legend of Zelda: The Return

by Rose Zemlya

Takes place after OoT with the assumption that Link lost all of his memories of the events in the game when Zelda sent him back in time. COMPLETE

40. Chapter 38 and Interludes

The Legend of Zelda: The Return

Hey all;

So . . . that was a very, very long time to leave you guys hanging, and I'm sorry, however, there wasn't anything I could have done to get it out faster. It wasn't even time constraints this time that delayed it, it was the fact that I rewrote it about fifty times and hated it every time. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but I hate this version the least, and I've decided I'm likely as not never going to be happy with this chapter so I may as well move you guys from one cliffhanger to the next so I can keep you in limbo all over again. :-)

I apologize ahead of time for any confusion which may result from the Chapter part of this installment. It will sort it self out towards the end of the part (more or less) I promise.

Some credit needs to be given for this chapter:

The line "No one strikes me with impunity" is not mine, but Edgar Allan Poe's, used at the insistence of KA, who has taken it as more or less her trademark. :-) She's a rather large fan of Ganondorf, and was quite upset with me when he wasn't in my story, so this is my apology. And the town Summer-Fell, as well as the information on active and non-active Sheikah is courtesy of Alyssa, who is writing a Zelda fan fiction of her own which goes into further detail on what I've already laid out for the Sheikah. For those rare few of you who liked Detsu, he'll be making an appearance in her fic, so please check it out!

This story is almost done (obviously) with maybe only one chapter and an epilogue left (possibly two chapters, but probably not), and I'm currently debating over two routes to take when writing the sequel. I'm having trouble deciding which I want to do, so I'll put a question to you guys, since you're the ones who'll be reading it:

Would anyone object to a retelling of A Link to the Past? The basic plot would be the same, but because of the characters I've added, and the obvious differences between LttP and OoT that need to be reconciled, it will be a lot different as well.

I think that's about it for now, so beyond that, enjoy!

[UPDATE: June 15] Woah, guys, woah! Before I get any more panicked e-mails about me forgetting about Hunter, Neesha and everyone else, if I DID decide to go with the LttP retelling, I assure you that Hunter, Neesha and the whole crew would still be in it, in just as big a way as they were in this one. It wouldn't be so much a retelling as an adaptation. It will be a continuation of this story and all that it encompasses, with the LttP plot as a basis. And I'm still only playing with the idea. One way or another for the sake of the other sequel idea I have (which would simply become a third installment if I did the LttP) it has to happen; my current debate is whether to tell it in a very long flashback in a prologue, or make it a whole saga. There's more than enough wriggle room in a Link to the Past for me to either.

Lady Rose

"It's easy to cry that you're beaten - and die;

It's easy to crawfish and crawl;

But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight -

Why, that's the best game of them all!

And though you come out of each grueling bout,

All broken and beaten and scarred,

Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,

It's the keeping-on-living that's hard."

-From "The Quitter" by Robert Service

xxx

A Brief Interlude

Malon kicked the fountain furiously. Where was her dad? The sun was setting and he hadn't come back yet! It was only supposed to have been a stupid delivery . . . he said five minutes, tops! Five! He'd been gone for more than an hour!

"Probably fell asleep," she muttered to herself, leaning back against the fountain and crossing her arms over her chest. "Darn it . . . just once would it kill him to be-" Her thought was cut off by an explosion of cursing from a shop over on the other side of the market. She gasped and whirled around, staring in the direction of the noise. A sign over the door read "Castletown Archery Shop." A peal of laughter accompanied the swearing and the door burst open suddenly as a young boy, about her age, bolted from the shop. He turned his head back towards the shop with a wide grin, not watching where he was going. Malon's eyes widened and she tried to move out of his way, but it was too late.

"I can't believe you fell for -" Before the boy could finish his sentence he barreled into her, knocking them both back into the fountain with a splash. They both came up for air, gasping in surprise.

"Oh Din!" Cried the boy, his green hat hanging lopsided on his head now, revealing thick blonde hair underneath. He sloshed through the water over to her. "Are you all right? I'm sorry! I was -" The door to the archery shop slammed open again and a large figure limped out into the market. The boy gasped and immediately dropped back into the water, pushing himself behind her and pressing himself against the lip of the fountain.

"LINK!" The big man roared. "Where are you?" Malon cast a wide-eyed look down at the hiding boy who shook his head furiously and gave her the most pleading glance she'd ever seen, his blue eyes wide. She raised an eyebrow at him, and turned back around.

"He went that way, sir!" She called, pointing down an alleyway. "Little boy in green?"

"Oh! When I get my hands on that kid . . ." The man stormed off, limping down the alley way. She waited until she couldn't see him anymore, and then gestured to the boy that the coast was clear. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and pulled himself up and out of the fountain, then turned around and offered her a hand out.

"Thanks!" He said. "Name's Link, by the way."

"I gathered as much," Malon replied, accepting his hand and hopping out of the fountain. She leaned down and attempted to wring out her dress as he did the same with his hat and tunic - both of which were the same shade of green. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You dress kind of funny," she said bluntly, eyeing the hat in particular. "How come you're wearing that? You think you're some kind of Kokiri or something?" She looked around. "You don't have a fairy, so you can't really be one . . ."

"You know," said the boy, just a touch sullenly, "the least you could do is give me your name before you insult the way I dress." She flashed him her best smile.

"It's Malon," she said. "And I didn't mean to insult you . . . but you do dress funny." He narrowed his sapphire eyes with a frown.

"I like green," he said primly. She got the feeling he'd been through this before. She grinned lightly at him at him and decided to change the subject.

"Whatever, Fairy Boy. What did you do to that guy, anyway? He looked pretty mad." The offended look immediately left the boy's face and a mischievous grin split his features. She blinked. He seemed to have more mood swings than she did . . .

"It was great!" He cried, roughly jamming his hat back into place on his head. "I put a Deku Nut in his shoe! Oh my Goddess, it was priceless! I'm going to be in soooo much trouble when he finally catches me, but it was completely worth it! You should have seen the look on his face! He was so mad!" He did an imitation and she giggled.

"Dad's are always mad," she answered. "But sometimes, you can keep yourself out of trouble by getting mad at them right back. It works on my Dad anyway." The boy shook his head.

"Oh, Bruiser's not my Dad," he said, the easy grin never leaving his face. "He's just . . . the guy I live with. I work over there for him, and he gives me one of the rooms above the shop. Hey, if you're not busy you should come by and visit me sometime. It can get pretty boring if there's no business." She laughed.

"I would, but I don't know how to use a bow and arrow," she replied. "Mr. Ingo said that it's not very ladylike, so he wouldn't let me learn." Link made a face.

"Mr. Ingo sounds like a real party killer," he said. "Who cares what he says? You come over to the shop and I'll give you lessons for free, to make up for getting you all wet, is it a deal?" He held out his hand. She considered it for a moment, then looked up at his face. His grin was genuine - it made her feel comfortable with him, like he was an old friend or something. She wasn't sure why, but she trusted him. She grinned back and accepted his hand.

"Deal," she said, and they shook on it . . .

"Link . . ." Malon whispered, her eyes wide with horror. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she opened them again, nothing had changed. "No!"

xxx

"So what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Hunter blinked in surprise at the question. Link grinned as he settled himself down into a cross-legged position on the stone bed. "Sounds awkward, eh? What with us both being practically eighteen already and everything, but still, you know what I mean. What do you want to do with yourself after your Quisros? Any plans? Assuming of course," he added, "we survive this whole mess." Hunter frowned thoughtfully as he set up his blankets on the floor.

"I dunno," he said. "I've never really thought about it. I mean, there's not really a whole lot of options for the Sheikah in that regard. Either you're active or you're not, and if you're active then you just go where they send you to do what they assign you to do." Link raised an eyebrow.

"They force you?" He asked in surprise.

"No, no!" Hunter said quickly. "You don't have to. I mean, if I wanted I could forget all about my training and just tell Impa I didn't want to be stationed anywhere and go do whatever I wanted. They don't force you into anything - unless of course you agree to join the ranks of active Sheikah, in which case they can station you wherever and you don't really get a whole lot of choice in the matter - but even that's not really true. I mean, most of the time you can turn assignments down, and volunteer for the ones you really want, but sometimes it's important and you've got no choice. My dad, for example, in Castletown, when he'd rather be in Kakariko." Link suddenly looked guilty and Hunter winced, wishing he'd worded that better. "That came out wrong," he said hastily. "I didn't mean it like that." Link didn't answer for a moment, laying back on the stone bed and crossing his arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"You really missed him, when he was gone, didn't you?" He asked. Hunter hesitated, trying to gauge the tone of the question. There wasn't anything bitter, or apologetic, or angry, or guilty about it. It was just a question.

"I . . . did," Hunter answered. "I still do. But it wasn't like I never got to see him. He came home like at least three times a month on the weekends to visit, and I suppose even if he'd been home all the time, it wouldn't really have mattered. I was in school for most of the day, anyway, and then in the evenings I'd mess around with my friends." Link looked at him out of the corner of his eye, expectantly. Hunter hesitated again. "I suppose . . . it was the worst, at night. He used to tuck me in at night, before he left, and tell me a story, and the whole bedtime routine. Dune did, or Ketari, her daughter, when he was gone, but it just wasn't the same."

"Why did they choose him?" Link asked. "Why didn't they pick someone else? He had a kid himself, it doesn't seem fair that they picked him." Hunter shrugged.

"Impa insisted. She had a feeling that she couldn't shake that it had to be dad, so dad went. He's always had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and duty and he couldn't turn her down when she insisted." He crawled into his blankets and looked over at Link. "Hey, you're not going to use this to make yourself feel bad and get all angsty on me, are you?" Link glanced at him.

"What if I do?" He asked. Hunter grinned.

"I'll kick your ass, that's what," he said. "I am my father's son, and that overdeveloped sense of duty was passed down. I never felt bitter or angry about him being gone except at my worst moments, because I understood that whatever it was he'd been sent to Castletown for needed him more than I did. Maybe I would have been a bit more upset if I'd had to share him with some random guy from off the street, but apparently, I was sharing him with family, and that makes up for it. That's what families do, anyway. That makes it all right." He settled down with his head on his pillow. "So what about you?" He asked. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Link frowned suddenly and rolled onto his back, avoiding Hunter's gaze..

"Nothing," he said quickly - way too quickly.

"Hey, no fair," Hunter said, propping himself up on his elbow. "I told you mine." Link glanced at him.

"It's stupid," he said. "You'll laugh."

"I won't," Hunter answered. "I swear. And I bet it's not stupid."

"It is stupid," Link said. "Well . . . it sounds stupid when you say it. And it's not something a lot of people hope for."

"You're doing absolutely nothing for my curiosity you know," Hunter pointed out. Link hesitated some more, then looked back up at the ceiling.

"Fine," he said. "I want to have a family."

"Like a wife, and kids and stuff?" Hunter asked, not quite able to grasp why that was stupid.

"No," Link answered, "like a Dad, and Mom and stuff."

"Oh," Hunter said. "I get it. That's not stupid. It's understandable."

"But you've got to admit," Link insisted, rolling over onto his side to look at him easier, "it sounds stupid. When you say it." Hunter grinned at him.

"Well . . ." He said. "Maybe it's kind of awkward."

"Ha! See!" Link said, but he didn't sound angry, more like amused. "So yeah, now you know. I want a family." He sighed. "Unfortunately for me my family tree's been struck by lightning so many times I'm about the only branch left."

"Bah," said Hunter, "that's no problem. Trees can be regrown you know."

"How?" Link demanded.

"Simple," Hunter said. "We'll start small. Siblings first. They're easy. Neesha can be your sister. You two already fight like siblings, so there you go." Link grinned.

"I don't know that Neesha would agree so readily to that," he said.

"I think, you'd be surprised," Hunter replied. "Neesha talks tough, and Din knows she can act it, but I get the impression she's fanatically loyal once she's yours, and I get the distinct feeling that she's been yours since the day you met her." Link grinned and waved him off.

"All right fine, so I've got a sister, what about the rest of it? Mom, Dad, uncles, cousins, aunts, grandparents, fifth-cousins-twice-removed . . . what about them?"

"Well, everything in there except the Mom and Dad are easy," Hunter answered. "Your uncle is my Dad, obviously, and I'm your cousin. Which means, of course, that my family is your family. You've already got an extended family. Someday, when this is all over, I'll introduce you to the whole fam damily."

"Fam damily?" Link asked with a grin.

"You heard me," Hunter responded, getting carried away with the idea now that he'd thought it. "The whole fam damily. We don't have a grandpa, just so you know, he died during the Great War, but our grandma is alive and kicking in Summer-fell, just over the mountains - that's the town where a lot of non-active Sheikah live, by the way. You can come next time me and Dad go to visit her, it'll be great! I bet you she'll cry when I tell her Brayden's son is still alive. Dibs on telling her, just so you know. She'll hug you too, by the way, so be ready. And she might pinch your cheek." He frowned. "She hasn't quite gotten past that." Link was staring at him with wide eyes. "What?" Hunter demanded. He blinked when he realized what the problem was. "This never occurred to you, did it?" He demanded. "That you might actually have an extended family . . . wow, Navi was right, you are thick." Link threw his pillow at the Sheikah, a foolish, happy grin on his face.

"Hunter, you just made my day," he said ecstatically, reaching out for his pillow which Hunter held just out of his grip. Link's grin widened as he met Hunter's gaze. "Don't make me come down there," he threatened. Hunter laughed.

"You can't hit me," he said. "We're brothers."

"Brothers?" Link asked in surprise, stretching for the pillow. "I thought we were cousins."

"Hmph," Hunter grunted as he jerked the pillow out of Link's reach again. "If Neesha gets to be your sibling, so do I." Link looked down at him, momentarily distracted from the pillow.

"All right," he said. "Brothers. Now give me back my pillow!" He threw himself off the bed and the two were soon involved in a wrestling match of inane proportions, the pillow laying forgotten on the floor . . .

"Link!" Hunter stood motionless, frozen in place as Link slid backwards off of the sword . . . His eyes widened and he raised his hand and took a shaky step forward, but could make it no further. "Oh Farore! No!"

xxx

"Neesha! We shouldn't be here! What if Amplisa catches us?"

"Shut up," Neesha hissed, waving distractedly at Nonni, who cast a helpless look back at the other girl they were with. Neesha rolled her eyes and whirled around, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. "If you cucoos want to leave, then go. You sound like a bunch of whining Hylians, for Goddess's sake. Are you Gerudo or aren't you?"

"We're Gerudo," said Nonni defensively. "But we're supposed to be back at the nursery! If Amplisa finds out we're missing . . ."

"Because babysitting duty is so much more interesting than this," Neesha said scathingly. "How often is it a male comes to the fortress? I want to see him!"

"You're going to get us in trouble again!" The other girl, Sheena, said. "Why do you think we're even on babysitting duty?"

"I told you you don't have to follow me!" Neesha exploded, then abruptly lowered her voice. "Go on! Go back! I don't want you with me if you're just going to complain!"

"Fine!" Nonni exploded right back. "I'm going! And I'm telling Amplisa where you are!"

"Rat," Neesha hissed. "Cucoo!"

"Call me what you like," Nonni replied. "It doesn't matter. We're not supposed to be out here. Now are you coming back or not?"

"No," Neesha said flatly. "You two are on your own."

"Neesha, you're the one who's on her own," Sheena replied. "Why do you always have to do this? Why can't you ever act normal?"

"You ask me that question again someday when I'm a white," Neesha hissed. "And I'll answer you then."

"White?" Nonni demanded. "Don't make me laugh! You'll be lucky at this rate to ever make the red! Come on Sheena, let's go." Sheena cast one last guilty look at Neesha before following Nonni back down the corridor. Neesha scowled after them, her eyes flashing.

"I'll show you," she hissed. "You just wait . . ."

"Well," said a mild - masculine - voice from behind her. "You Gerudo don't even really like each other very much, do you?" Neesha whirled around, staring in surprise at the man - Boy, she corrected herself - leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. He looked distinctly out of place with his blonde hair and green clothes - not to mention the fact that he was a male. She frowned at him and cocked her head. Somehow, she was expecting something a little more exciting.

"You're that kid Nabooru brought with her," she said flatly. "How come she's letting you run around free?" His eyebrow went up even higher.

"Because it's not polite to lock your guests up in dungeons," he replied dully. "Are all Gerudo this blunt, or are you just special?" Neesha decided some questions were best left unanswered.

"What do you do?" She demanded instead of answering.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you do?" She demanded again. "Why are you special? Every other man who comes here gets put in the dungeons. What can you do that makes you useful?"

"So a person has to be useful to deserve freedom?" He asked. It felt like a loaded question so she dodged it.

"Where do you come from?" He rolled his eyes.

"Is this your attempt at making a conversation?" He asked. "Because you suck at it. How about you let me lead? You're doing it all in the wrong order anyway." He stuck his hand out to her, causing her to jump back and her hand to drop to her scimitar. He frowned at her, not moving his hand. "Jumpy much?" He asked. She scowled and took his hand, if reluctantly. "My name is Link," he said. "I'm from nowhere in particular. Your name is apparently Neesha, and unless I've missed my guess, you're from the desert."

"How do you know my name?" She demanded, releasing his hand. He shrugged.

"I overheard the last part of your conversation," he said. "I also know you're supposed to be -"

"NEESHA!" Neesha's shoulders sagged and she winced, whirling around on her heel to glare malevolently at Sheena and Nonni, both of whom were shuffling along guiltily behind Amplisa, who looked less than happy. "What do you think you're doing? This is the third time this week that you've shirked your responsibility! This kind of behavior is simply -" The Gerudo all blinked as Link stepped forward between Amplisa and Neesha.

"I'm sorry," he said with an easy grin. "Amplisa, right? I'm pretty sure this whole misunderstanding is my fault. See, Nabooru told me to find myself a guide around the Fortress so I wouldn't get lost - you guys have built a seriously impressive fort here" What floored Neesha was that he actually sounded genuine, "- and she recommended Neesha to me. I'm the one who took Neesha out of the nursery. Sorry if I did something wrong." Amplisa frowned in consternation.

"That's not what Nonni and Sheena tell me," she said. Link stepped forward and drew her to the side, ignoring her dark frown at his touch, then said in a whisper just loud enough for all three girls to hear:

"Perhaps, the two little girls were jealous that it was Neesha and not one of them that Nabooru recommended. I'm not saying that's it, but, well, they do seem like they fight with her a lot, don't they?"

"Yes," Amplisa mused. "They do." She looked over at Neesha, who immediately ceased her smug grinning at the other two to look at her innocently. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going and why?" She demanded.

"You were busy," she said. "And when Link told me that Nabooru told him to get me, I just assumed she told you."

"Well she didn't," Amplisa said. "Next time, Neesha, tell me, regardless of what you assume." She turned around. "As for you two, you're not off the hook. Let's go." Neesha watched until they were gone before whirling around to stare at Link.

"Did Nabooru really tell you to come get me?" She demanded.

"No, actually," Link said. "What Nabooru said was more along the lines of, 'Sit here, and don't even think about moving from this spot or interfering with anything going on in the fortress.'"

"Where's here?" Neesha asked. Link shrugged.

"I dunno," he said. "As soon as Nabooru left I snuck past the guards and took off. That was about fifteen minutes ago actually."

"You disobeyed Nabooru?" Neesha demanded, eyes wide with a new respect. Link grinned and shrugged, sensing the shift in feelings.

"I've never been one for doing what I'm told," he answered easily. Neesha finally returned his grin.

Maybe Males weren't so bad after all.

"I don't suppose you know how to spar, do you?"

"NO!" Neesha screamed as Link's back struck the altar. She pushed herself to her knees, intent on getting to her feet and running to help him, or kill the one who'd killed him, but Malon caught her shoulders and held her firmly in place.

"Neesha . . ." She whispered, her voice choked with tears. "Don't . . . it's too late . . ."

"NO!"

xxx

"I still don't like this," Impa said darkly. "This is too dangerous." Zelda rolled Sheik's crimson eyes at her guardian.

"Relax, Impa, it's just a trip to the market. Nothing is going to happen. Besides," she added, readjusting the shawl she wore around her face. "Nobody will recognize me like this, not here anyway."

"You know," Impa said quietly. "If you're so desperate to see the boy, why don't you just invite him to the palace? Why the subterfuge?" Sheik was suddenly glad for the shawl, since it hid her blush quite effectively.

"That's not what this is about," she said flatly. "I just want to walk among the people like a normal person for once without all the guards, and ceremony, and show. Daddy used to do it, I don't see why I can't."

"Your father was a lot older than you are when he did," Impa said, "and he was not only King but doing it for political reasons."

"What, exactly are you saying?" Sheik demanded, bristling. Impa sighed.

"Nothing you'd listen to anyway," she said. "Never mind. Just stick close to me, all right? The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can relax."

"You didn't have to come," Sheik muttered under her breath - she was still bitter about the fact that Impa had caught her attempting to sneak out of the palace. Impa opened her mouth - probably to reply - but Sheik quickly switched the subject. "When is my next trip to Kakariko scheduled for?"

"Two weeks, I believe," Impa answered. Sheik frowned thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should pick something up for Bel and Mel while I'm here," she mused. Impa raised an eyebrow.

"What about Thomas and Hunter?" She asked. Sheik frowned darkly.

"The put a frog down my shirt last time I went. They can suffer." Impa smiled and shook her head.

"Boys will be boys," she said. "And if you want to pull off this disguise on a steady basis, you're going to need to learn to act more like one."

"Who said anything about steady?" Sheik demanded. "This is a one time affair, Impa. I don't exactly like being a boy, you know." Impa raised an eyebrow and gave the infuriatingly knowing "mm-hmm" that Zelda hated with a passion. "Don't do that!" Sheik growled. "Don't pretend you know exactly what I'm thinking."

"I'm not pretending," Impa said mildly. "Tell me, Sheik, is there a reason you've led us in almost a straight line towards the Archery shop?" Sheik froze in mid-step. Impa didn't react. "All right," she said, "here's the deal. I'm going to get the supplies I came for, and I get the distinct impression you'd rather not be stuck to my side the whole time. You can wander around the Market as you like, but only the market. I've got Sheikah everywhere, you understand me, and I'll know the instant you step out of bounds."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sheik said, waving her off. "Geez. The way you order me around you'd think you were the Princess of Hyrule." Impa let it go. She was pretty sure she knew where Zelda would be anyway. She'd head for the first green tunic she saw and stick there.

"I mean it Sheik," she said. "I'll come and find you in about an hour. Stay out of trouble." Sheik waited until her guardian had turned her back and stuck her tongue out at it.

"I saw that," Impa called just before vanishing into the crowd.

"Through the shawl?" Sheik cried uselessly after her. She sighed and rolled her eyes and picked a not-so random direction to wander in - as long as she was at the archery shop she might as well go in and see how everything was.

She stepped into the shop, her arrival punctuated by the ringing of a small bell. There was no one behind the counter, but the door behind it was standing slightly ajar, revealing a small kitchen. Though she couldn't see what was going on back there, she could hear it.

"I can't find my hat!" A panicked (achingly familiar) voice was shouting. "Dammit, Bruiser! Where did you put it?"

"I didn't put it anywhere!" Shouted a deeper, rumbling voice, approaching the door. "It's not my hat! And watch your language! We've got a customer!"

"How am I supposed to play ball without my hat?" The big man coming through the door rolled his eyes at the shout and muttered something about "why is it always the damned hat he can't find?" as he walked through. "What can I do for you?" He asked.

"How much for a game?" Sheik asked, reaching into his pouch and picking through his rupees.

"10 rupees for easy, 15 for medium, and 20 for hard. You get twenty arrows for each game and there are ten targets." The sound of running footsteps sounded from the roof above them.

"Bruiser! Where's my ball? What did you do with my ball?"

"Excuse me," the big man said, sticking his head back inside the door, and bellowing. "You left it on the top of the stairs yesterday and I nearly killed myself! I stabbed it with a fork and chucked it!"

"WHAT?" Shrieked the voice as the frantic footsteps stopped abruptly. "BRUISER!" The shout was accompanied by a pitiful moan.

"It's on your shelf where it's supposed to be!" Bruiser shouted up, rolling his eyes. "Put it away next time or I will chuck it! Right out the window!" The voice muttered something neither of them could make out and began running around again. Bruiser shook his head and moved to turn back to his customer when a loud crash and snapping noise echoed down the stairs, immediately followed by a suspicious silence. Bruiser let out a long suffering sigh. "Can you give me a minute?" He asked. Sheik, laughing, nodded, and Bruiser slipped back inside the door.

"What did you break?" He shouted up the stairs.

"Nothing!" Came the too-quick reply. "I fixed it! Take it out of my pay! I'll find someone to come and fix it! I'm sorry!" Bruiser growled something under his breath.

"Did you find your ball and hat?" He called up the stairs.

"Yes . . ." Came the cautious reply.

"Then get OUT already! I've got a business to run and I can't do it with you smashing things upstairs!" He came back out to the counter. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll give you a discount for the hassle. Five rupees off whatever level you'd like." Sheik smiled.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll take medium, full price." She handed him fifteen rupees and he smiled widely at her.

"Much appreciated," he said, turning to survey the bows as the source of the panicked voice from upstairs came running down the stairs and through the door. Sheik's heart skipped a beat but she forced herself to avoid a reaction beyond that. It had been so long since she'd last seen him . . . nothing had changed. He still wore the same green tunic and foolish looking hat. His hair was the same length, his eyes the same blue, his grin the same degree of crooked. Younger, definitely younger, but still Link . . .

Incorrigible, sarcastic, bull-headed, wonderful Link . . .

He flashed her a sheepish, apologetic grin.

"Sorry about the noise," he said, slipping past Bruiser and clutching his ball protectively just in case the big man decided to make good on his promise to deflate it. "I'll give you a tip. Aim low. The rupees look higher than they are."

"If you're not back by supper, I'm not feeding you!" Bruiser shouted after him.

"Yeah, yeah!" He shouted back, and then was gone.

Sheik didn't take long to follow him. She finished up her arrows (she hit no targets. She wasn't paying enough attention . . .), thanked Bruiser for the game, and slipped out the door, doing her best to keep up with the little boy in green who was dodging through the ever-growing crowd with practiced ease. The most crowded thing Sheik had ever seen had been the ball room during the Grand Ball that they held every year, and as such, by the time he had managed to get past the crowd, Link was already firmly entrenched in a game of what looked suspiciously like Keep-Away with four other kids. She walked over to a wall across the street and leaned up against it to watch. About five minutes in, however, one of the kids threw the ball too high and it sailed through the air to bounce over to Sheik's feet. Sheik blinked at it in surprise, and when she looked up, she met Link's blue-eyed gaze.

"Hey!" He said with a bright smile. "You're that kid at the shop. How'd your shooting go?"

"Uh . . ." Sheik managed, immediately trying to press herself into a wall as Link leaned down to pick up the ball. She hadn't meant to get caught. She'd just wanted to watch! Link grinned crookedly at her.

"That bad, eh?" He asked. "Hey, listen, I saw you watching the game, did you want to play?" He held out the ball to her. "It's an easy game." Sheik shook her head and raised her hand to turn the ball down.

"No thanks," she said hastily. "I don't want to impose."

"Impose?" Link asked with a grin. "Wow, that's a mouthful. You trying to pretend you're all grown-up or something?" He demanded. "Afraid to play a bit of ball like a kid?" She stared at him, horrified at his audacity, then narrowed her eyes, trying to remind herself that he didn't know she was a princess, and that was why he wasn't treating her like one . . .

She knew that was a load of bull, however . . .

Link had never treated her like a princess . . .

He'd always just treated her like her . . .

"I'm not afraid of anything," she responded with a growl.

"Great!" He said, jamming the ball into her stomach, forcing her to take it. She blinked at his smug grin. "Then you're on my team. Come on, I'll introduce you to the group."

"But . . . I . . . you're not listening!" She cried uselessly after him. She glared at him as he jogged back towards the group and clutched the ball. Apparently some things never changed. No matter what form she was in he refused to listen to her. She raised her arm and threw the ball with all of her strength. Unlike the archery shop, this time her aim was true and it slammed into the back of Link's head. He stumbled forward in surprise and turned around to gape at her. His friends burst into laughter. She crossed her arms and it was suddenly her turn to grin smugly. That had felt ridiculously good. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to lose his temper with her, but instead he threw back his head and laughed (Farore how she'd missed his laugh), as he ran over to pick up the ball.

"Hey guys!" He shouted. "We got a new player! Dibs on him! His name's . . ." He paused and turned around. "Hey, what is your name, anyway?" He asked, looking over as Sheik - realizing that he wasn't about to give up on her playing ball with him just because she'd thrown it at his head - jogged up to him.

"Z-Sheik," she answered. Link paused for a moment, the boyishness gone from his face for a moment and replaced by a piercing look.

"Sheik, eh?" He asked, and Sheik had the distinct impression he didn't believe her. Finally, however, he shrugged and held out his hand, the boyishness right back where it had been.

"I'm Link," he said. "Nice to meet you." Sheik smiled back at him as she took his hand.

Incorrigible, sarcastic, bull-headed, wonderful Link . . .

As much as it killed her to admit that Impa was right . . .

Maybe she would be spending a bit more time as Sheik . . .

As most people do, when confronted with their nightmares, Zelda could only stare as Link fell back onto the altar and Dark Link stumbled backwards, his ebony face a twisted mess of triumph and pain. It suddenly hurt to breathe. "No . . ." she whispered. "No . . . Link! No!" She pushed herself to her feet and all but threw herself at the altar. "Link . . ." She choked, her eyes drawn inexorably to his ruined stomach. She knew enough about healing and medicine to know a fatal wound when she saw one. She reached out and touched the wound helplessly. He was beyond her help this time. "Link . . . please . . . oh please . . .." She turned her attention back to his face. "Link . . ." She whispered. "Link!" He took in a shallow, shuddering, painful breath. She didn't even know if he could hear her. She tangled her fist in his ruined tunic and fought back tears. This wasn't happening. She wasn't seeing this. Not after everything they'd done . . . not after everything they'd come through . . . he couldn't die now . . . not now . . . not like this . . .

"Link . . . please . . ."

What good were her powers as a Sage if she couldn't save him?

"Link . . . don't die . . ."

What good were his own powers if he couldn't save himself?

"Link . . ."

What good was the Hyrule they'd fought so hard for - the Hyrule he was dying for - the Hyrule she'd given everything she'd had for . . . if he wasn't part of it?

What good was anything if he wasn't part of it?

The answer came to her in a flash of insight so painful it drove her to her knees.

Nothing. Nothing was any good if he wasn't part of it. If he wasn't there.

Everything she thought she'd done for him . . . taking his memories so he could live his life free of them, denying her own feelings for him, refusing his feelings for her . . . they all seemed so petty now. Hollow. They meant nothing. She regretted all of it, and that regret hurt.

He was dying . . .

It was over . . .

He had lost . . .

They had lost . . .

"Link," she sobbed, crying against the altar, "Link . . . please . . . don't die . . . I'm sorry! Link, I'm sorry! Please! Link!"

The Master Sword slid from the grasp of its wielder - a grasp that had held not only the sword, but all of Hyrule steady for so long - and struck the ground with a hollow, empty, clank.

Behind her, Dark Link opened his mouth in a wordless scream . . .

xxx

I have one eye on Link as well. The adult Link. Well . . . the almost adult Link.

It's funny . . . I never expected this to happen. Not for a minute. I never would have even guessed. And yet . . . the first time I looked at him . . . after the Triforce had transported us away from the field and into that cave . . . looked at his bleeding, unconscious form . . . still somehow clutching my son protectively . . . there was no doubt in my mind as to who this green clothed stranger was. I knew he was my son . . . there was no one else he could be . . . there was no mistaking him.

I'd know my son anywhere . . . anywhen . . . and so would Natalia, much as she tried to deny it. I think that was the biggest fight we've had in a while . . . over what to do with him. I think she was just bitter about the fact that she had been rescued by him . . . regardless of her relationship to him, that would have been a blow to her pride . . .

I really don't understand Gerudo logic sometimes. Nat took on no less than eight, full grown Moblins. She decimated seven of them. And yet, somehow, because one of them had managed to catch her in a moment of distraction caused by her son's frightened cry . . . that makes her a weak, reckless, irresponsible fighter.

She beat seven out of eight Moblins!

Honestly. The day I understand any Gerudo, least of all Natalia, is the day that DeathMountain freezes over.

I look surreptitiously back over at Link - the big Link - and wonder . . .

What does it mean? Why did he come back to the past? I mean . . . I understand that he tried to do his Quisros - too early, naturally. Impetuous kid . . . somehow I should have known he would. After the time he actually went into the Quisrol despite the number of times I've told him not too . . . - and the pedestal, naturally, sent him back in time. As it should for the Hero of Time. But what does it mean in the big picture? What purpose does destiny have in sending him back here? What does it want to show him?

What does it want to show me?

It hadn't taken long for Natalia and I to get him to break down and tell us his story. Between my carefully phrased questions and Natalia's impatient ones . . . fact of the matter is, he wanted to tell us what's happened to him. He didn't say as much . . . but I could tell. Just in the way he spoke. The expressions on his face . . . his tone of voice . . . .. He's been through Hell and back twice over . . . and the thing that kills me is that nowhere in his story does me mention Natalia or I. We're not there.

We weren't there for him when he needed us . . .

. . . and I'm still not . . .

I can do nothing but watch helplessly from my prison as the ebony blade clutched in hands that haven't been mine for fifteen years slides easily through the unprotected stomach of my only son. His sapphire eyes widen, not in horror or fear or anger . . . merely in surprise . . . surprise, and a funny kind of triumph. He looks into the crimson eyes that stare out at him, and I know he sees me . . . he's not seeing crimson, he's seeing green . . .

A wave of heat washes over the hands that used to be mine, staining them red with his blood. The thing within me does nothing for a moment, only able to stare with my eyes in disbelief at the fact that its finally accomplished what it's been waiting so long to do. Slowly the eyes widen and a sense of exultation floods through my awareness - my awareness, but not my exultation.

I can do nothing but watch helplessly as the thing rips its hateful sword out of my son and throws it to the side, raising my hands to look at them, at the blood on them. Link falls backwards, onto the altar, his friends stare at him in horror, their expressions ranging from furious to disbelieving. I pull frantically at my chains, but there's nothing I can do. I'm trapped here. Trapped within myself. I can't save him . . .. The thing opens my mouth, no doubt to cheer, or scream, or do something equally triumphant, but that's when the pain hits . . .

It starts in the hands, where the blood is. An excruciating, tearing feeling. We can both feel it, as we can most things, but this time its different. We're not feeling the same pain, but our own, separate pains. The pain spreads, causing my body to stumble back a step, and the hands to go up and clutch the head. The back arches, the mouth opens, and this time a scream does come out - or more appropriately, two screams, as the pain grows unbearable, and the Shade and I are suddenly, and violently ripped apart.

I'm thrown to the ground in front of the altar, cracking my elbow and shoulder - my elbow and shoulder! They're mine again! - on the ground, and the Shade is hurled into the air and back, now back in its actual form - which isn't much of a form at all. Looks more like an insubstantial shadow than anything else, but it's crimson eyes are still there. I'm not looking at it, however.

I am staring blankly at the hilt of the Master Sword which has fallen from my son's hand and for a long, agonizing moment, it's all I can do to remember to breathe.

Behind me the Shade shrieks triumphantly, an unearthly sound that freezes the blood and frightens the bravest of hearts, but I don't care . . . I haven't got a heart left. It's dying on the altar above me.

"Link . . ." I push myself weakly to my feet, assaulted by sensations I haven't felt in more than a decade. Simple things - the cloth of my uniform against my skin, my hair brushing against the back of my neck, things I can once again experience from a first person perspective . . . but at what cost?

"Link . . . oh Goddesses, Link!" I lean heavily on the altar, staring down into my son's endless blue eyes. Eyes I thought I'd never see again. Eyes clouded with pain. He struggles to draw in his breath. "Link . . . why . . . dammit Link . . . " He meets my gaze and his lips twitch up into a pain filled, crooked, half-smile as his eyes fall shut and his chest ceases its rise and fall. My breath quickens suddenly. This can't be happening!

"Link! LINK!" I want to shake him but I'm afraid to touch him . . . his blood is still on my hands . . . I'm afraid to touch my own son . . . "Oh Link . . ." I close my eyes tightly and clench my hands into fists against the cold stone of the altar.

I would rather have spent the rest of eternity trapped with that hideous shade . . . than sacrifice a single moment of my son's life . . .

But it was taken out of my hands . . .

Why couldn't he have just killed me?

"He's dead . . .?" I look up at the whisper. A young boy, maybe Link's age, is standing stiffly beside me, staring down at Link's body uncomprehendingly, looking as afraid to touch him as I am. He shakes his head uncomprehendingly. "He can't be . . ." I'm suddenly aware of the others in the room. To my other side is a girl on her knees with long blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and tears streaming down her cheeks, who is staring at the Master Sword as though unable to understand. Over in the corner are two others, both red-haired, one a Gerudo. They're pushing themselves to their feet and coming over, eyes wide and faces horrified. "He . . . he can't be . . ." I turn back to the boy.

Hunter.

This must be Hunter. Farore, does he look like his mother. "Link . . ." He looks up at me suddenly, face uncertain, unbelieving . . . untrusting. He doesn't know what I am. He may not even know who I am.

And I can't answer him.

All I can do is stare at him, trying to find my voice . . .

Before I can, however, someone else finds theirs . . .

Behind us, the Shade has finally come back to its senses after our violent separation. It soars up over the slab of stone with the symbol of Light upon it and screams again. Everyone but me covers their ears. I've heard that scream too many times to be afraid of it anymore . . . I heard it every time it ever hurt someone. Every time it ever used my body to destroy. I heard it just now when it killed my son.

The shade screams again, and begins to move towards us, its crimson eyes glittering with malevolent hunger.

My face hardens into a kind of desperate determination.

It took my son from me. From his friends.

I won't let it take anyone else.

As the shade dives for us I push myself into motion, leaning down and scooping up my son's sword as I go . . .

. . . but then something unexpected happens.

At my touch the sword almost seems to come to life. It pulls itself from my grasp as the Shade descends on us and the blade rises into the air over the altar, blade pointed down at Link. The Shade skids to a stop in mid-air, crimson eyes suddenly wide with fear. It turns and attempts to run, but it's time is numbered in seconds. The Master Sword suddenly flares brilliantly with blue light, a single beam of which strikes the shade and sends it flying backwards until it is once again over the Light symbol, immobilized by the power of the Blade of Evil's Bane, unable to do anything but scream and writhe in place. We all stare at it in shock, but whirl around at a soft shimmering sound from behind us. As one our eyes widen at the sight of the three spiritual stones that have appeared above Link's body. They turn slowly as they soar away from my son and over to where the Shade is held. It screams again, horrified, as the stones move into a triangle shape around it. We can do nothing but watch as the stones begin to glow, connecting themselves to each other with thin beams of light. The instant the beams connect the shade screams again as it's ripped to pieces by the darkness which swims into existence in the triangle the stones have formed.

I realize what's happening a split-second before it happens . . .

The seal has been broken . . .

From within the portal the Stones have formed, there echoes a horrible, mocking, terrifyingly familiar laugh . . .

The girl beside me chokes and she unconsciously pushes herself back against the altar.

Black lightning crackles along the outside of the portal, as within the hole a shape starts to take form, beginning with a pair of malevolent, burning eyes. The shape solidifies further within the hole, moving out from the eyes, revealing a pair of long, vicious tusks set in a mouth lined with jagged teeth. The face is a pig's face, the body a giant's, but as the figure steps out of the portal and into the Temple, the shape changes again and he takes on his original form, still laughing . . .

Tall, muscular, flaming hair and eyes, dark skin . . .

This is the man who turned me into Dark Link . . .

This is the man who had Natalia killed . . .

This is the man who plunged Hyrule into darkness again, and again . . .

"Ganondorf . . ." the Gerudo girl breathes in horror.

"No . . ." Whispers the blonde girl, shaking her head. "No . . ." Ganondorf brushes off his arms as his eyes alight on Link's body and the blood stained altar. His already wide smile stretches even further and he throws his head back and laughs again; coldly, cruelly.

"Now does Hyrule understand the futility of resisting me?" He cries, looking down at the blonde girl beside me, his grin never fading. "Your precious Hero is dead, Princess," he says, delighting in her tear stained face. "And your precious Hyrule will be mine again. Now you understand . . ." He points at Link, still looking at the girl. "Now he understands . . ." He straightens and takes in everyone in the room, eyes burning with malevolence as he slowly turns his gaze over us all. His words are cold, and precise. "No one strikes me with impunity."

There's a long, horrified pause, and then eyes narrow and jaws clench all around the room as the air suddenly rings with the sound of steel being drawn from sheaths and recovered from the floor as the Gerudo girl and Hunter throw themselves with identical, wordless battle cries at Ganondorf. The girl - who can only be Princess Zelda - is on her feet, fists clenched at her sides, her whole body trembling, and she's suddenly glowing with light.

Of everyone in the room, it's only me and the other red-haired girl who notice when the Master Sword flashes again, and Link and the altar are suddenly encased in a shell of solid, blue light . . .

xxx

As one the Sages abruptly straightened in the middle of the battle. Their connection to the Sacred Realm had begun to tremble violently. There was only one thing which could have caused it . . .

The three Bearers of the Triforce were united again . . .

The enemy had returned . . .

Through the fighting and carnage they exchanged a horrified glance.

Something had gone wrong.

Nabooru, Impa, Darunia and Ruto whirled around and began screaming for their generals.

Two minutes later all five Sages were gone . . .

xxx

Chapter 38

Something's happened . . .

I don't know what . . .

But . . .

I'm not supposed to be here . . .

My breath comes in short, ragged gasps - it hurts to draw it in and let it out again. Every time I take in a breath my whole body screams at me to just stop and let myself die, but I continue on at my desperate running pace anyway, clutching at my arm with one hand, and at my side with the other - only two of a multitude of wounds which could all use holding. I can't see the things attacking me with my eyes, it's way too dark for that (and even if it was light I've got this funny impression that I wouldn't see them anyway) but I get flashes in my mind when they hit me. They're frightening things . . . monsters and demons and nightmarish creatures - and the oddest thing is that they're all vaguely familiar, though I'll be damned if I know why. Every now and then one hits me and I get a flash of insight, and can suddenly match a name to the thing - Stalfos, Volvagia, Iron Knuckle, Ghoma, and the list goes on. The names, unfortunately, mean very little to me. They're just a random collection of syllables that disappear right after I've thought them half the time anyway.

My head is foggy - maybe from the pain, maybe from something else. I can't think past what I'm doing right now. The worst part is, I get the feeling that even though I can't remember the things chasing me, they remember me, and the hatred that's emanating from them as they slash and claw and tear at me is personal. I don't know what I ever did to them, but they hate me for it. That much is sure.

I have no idea where I am, what I'm doing, or even who I am, but I know that if I stop, I'll die, and so there's nothing left for me to do but run.

Not sure how I know that, but I do, so there you go.

I can't run forever, however (though it honestly feels like I've already been running at least that long), and they finally take me down. Something's claws catch me on the back, tearing my already tattered tunic right off and leaving three long, red gouges in a diagonal line from my shoulder to my hip.

I cry out in pain and fall, skidding to a halt in the pitch blackness (through which, for no apparent reason, I can still see myself, just not anything else). The dull roar around me picks up in intensity and I can see in my mind's eye the horde that's been chasing me through this endless nothingness rearing up as one and moving to lunge down at me and finish me off, once and for all. I close my eyes, curl up into a ball and throw my hands over my head, preparing for death . . .

. . . but death doesn't come. Something grabs me and drags me away from the horde and into what is apparently a hiding place, though I can't make it out anymore than I can make anything else out around here. Wherever it is, the monster's are now unable to see me and they mull around in confusion. I twist around painfully to see what happened and meet the cerulean gaze of a man burdened by an infinite insight into things that others can only wonder at. He looks to be about fifty, maybe even sixty years old, with long blonde bangs (shot through with gray) that hang down into his eyes and over his ears. He presses a pale finger against his lips. I stare at him in uncomprehending silence for a moment. He's wearing some kind of tight blue uniform (a Sheikah uniform, or so the random appearance of words in my head would have me believe) with red and white markings on it, and a quiver and bow and arrows over his back.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

"A Blood Sheikah," he whispers back. "Also known as the Hero of Hyrule. I'm the one who freed the Sages from their imprisonment in their temples, collected the spiritual stones, and united the peoples of Hyrule under the same banner for the first time in probably close to a hundred years." I stare up at him in confusion.

"Do you . . . do you know who I am?" I ask. It seems like a stupid question, but for some reason I get the feeling it's really important that I find out. The man offers me a crooked smile, tainted slightly by the weight of the things he knows.

"Well isn't it obvious?" He asks. "I'm you." I blink at him.

"W-What?" I ask.

"I'm you," he answers, then frowns suddenly. "And don't let that muscle-headed moron further down the way tell you any different, either." I want to ask him what he's talking about but before I can he's pulling me to my feet (at his touch, the pain from my back vanishes, though everything else still hurts) and shoving me out of the hiding place we're in. "Now, run kid. I'll distract them."

"But -"

"RUN!" He shoves me back in the direction I was running and there's nothing for it but to go. The guy buys me some time at least, and by the time I hear the unseen horde ripping after me again, I've got a half decent head start, but it's not nearly enough. I haven't been running long before they're on me again. Something tackles me from the side and I'm thrown violently to the ground, crying out when I hit. The things surge triumphantly into a circle around me, surrounding me completely. This time, there's no escape. They have me. I'm sure of it.

But once again I'm spared.

Something (someone I correct myself upon looking up in surprise) has thrown himself over me and is standing with his feet planted on either side of me, arms crossed across his chest, and glaring at the horde.

"STOP!" He shouts. And Din help me, they do. They immediately pull back as though stung and though they continue to sulk around us they fall back and cease their attacking. I pull in several quick, painful breaths, trying to calm my poor heart. My new savior looks down at me with a dark frown.

"Get up," he snaps. "You're embarrassing me." I look up at him and pull myself weakly out from under him. He's younger than the first man, maybe only thirty or forty, with darkly tanned skin that doesn't quite match his blonde hair. He's got hard, cold, weary sapphire eyes: evidence of the power he obviously wields. He wears a set of black leathers (tunic, pants, even his boots), with a red sash diagonal across his chest and has two scimitars strapped at his waist, and a set of knives across his chest in the direction opposite the sash, their blades naked and shining.

I'm assuming this is the muscle-headed moron that the other guy was talking about.

"Who . . ."

"King of the Gerudo," he answers flatly, his voice every bit as hard as his eyes. "General of the United Army of Hyrule. Might even be King of Hyrule someday if I can get the psycho I'm seeing to settle the Hell down and just marry me. Who the Hell did you think I was?" I shake my head in confusion and press a hand to my temple. My head hurts. I don't understand what's going on.

"Are we . . ."

"The same person? You bet your bippy, kiddo," he answers, finally cracking a grin tainted by the same weariness obvious in his eyes. "Though truth be told I can't really see much resemblance at the moment."

"But . . . he said . . ." I wave in the general direction I came in and the King snorts derisively.

"Who? That old fogey in the jumpsuit? You listen to me kid, the day you're him is the day the moon tries to eat the earth. He just wants to hold you back. I'm telling you kid, I'm you, not him. Keep that in mind and everything will be just fine."

"But . . ." Before I can finish my sentence, however, the King has grabbed my arm and roughly (ignoring my gasp of pain) hauled me to my feet.

"No more time for talking, kid," he grunts. "Get the Hell outta here before these bastards decide to stop listening to me and eat you anyway." He gives me a shove and frowns when I don't budge. I have questions, dammit! "I said, move, kid," he barks. "Now." The tone isn't one which is open to disobedience, so I growl in frustration, but turn and run, trying to ignore the pounding in my head, which has gotten worse than all of my other wounds it seems.

Maybe I should just let the horde eat me and end all this . . . none of it makes sense anyway . . .

There's a sudden roaring behind me and my heart sinks.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

I speed up, running at full tilt and just praying that there's nothing ahead in the blackness that will trip me up and send me sprawling. There isn't, but the horde catches up in no time, regardless. It's not the horde, or an unseen obstacle however, that stops me this time.

It's a shout.

"HEY!"

I skid to a stop (as does the horde) and we all stare in surprise at the small boy, maybe eleven years old, dressed in a green tunic and foolish looking hat. He's got his hands on his hips, his chest thrust out, and absolutely no weapon to be seen. His cobalt eyes are narrowed in a challenge, but not at me, and his lips are stretched into a crooked grin, tainted with the brazen recklessness obvious in his stance. "Why don't you losers pick on someone your own size?"

The horde, naturally, is only too willing to take up the challenge. They leave me alone and rush towards the boy, who laughs as though this whole thing is nothing but a game and throws himself at the unseen monsters, disappearing into the surging blackness.

I stare at the spot where he disappeared in horror for a long moment as the horde roars and writhes around it, but he suddenly bursts out of the other side with a bright flash of light and the horde disappears with a shriek. The boy laughs triumphantly and dusts off his hands before jogging over to me and sticking out one.

"Hey there!" He says as I shake his hand in confusion. "I suppose you've already seen those other two losers back there. I hope they didn't mix you up too badly."

"You're . . . "

"I'm you, and you're me, and that's about all there is to it," he says brightly. I whimper and rub my head but he doesn't notice. "I'm the Boy-Without-a-Fairy. I'm also the Kid-from-the-Archery-Shop, AND I'm friends with a whole bunch of people, like Hunter, Neesha, Zelda, Malon, Darunia, Ruto, Nabooru, Rue, Rauru, Saria, Mido . . . you get the idea."

"Sure," I say, but I don't. I haven't got the faintest clue what he's talking about, and I'm starting to get really frustrated. That's three people now, who've all insisted that I'm them, and not the other ones, and I don't know who to believe, or if I should even believe any of them! I know that if I could just figure out who I am I could stop this freaky stuff and get back to whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing, and mark my words, I'm supposed to be doing something.

I don't get it . . .

Out of all three of them . . .

None of them really feel like they're me . . . so . . . they're probably not me . . . or something . . .

I mean . . . I'd know who I was if I met myself, wouldn't I?

I'd recognize myself . . .

Right?

I'm suddenly aware of a warmth underneath my feet and the boy and I both look down in surprise where a blue light has started to glow under my feet. I gasp and try and jump off the light, but suddenly find I can't move. The boy, on the other hand, crosses his arms sulkily.

"He always spoils it," he mutters to himself. "Just once I'd like to get my way . . ." Before he can say anything else, however, the blue light flares, surrounding me. All of the pain except that in my head slowly disappears as the light caresses me, and when it fades I'm standing on a flat piece of stone at one end of a large marble room (somehow once again dressed in a completely repaired tunic). Instead of a unseen horde there is now an unseen choir, chanting something pretty and comforting. There's an altar shaped stone the other end of the room, and stretched out across it is a fourth person who looks like I do. The pain in my head, however, doesn't increase when I look at him, as it did with the others, but dulls somewhat. He tilts his face to look over at me and I'm immediately struck by the agelessness inherent in everything about him. He's neither young, nor old, nor anything in between. Or maybe he's all three. I can't say. I don't think it really matters, one way or another. He's dressed similarly to the way the young boy was. Green tunic, white leggings, large leather boots, long green hat. He only wears one weapon - I can just make out the hilt of a sword sticking up over his shoulder. The hilt of the sword is the same color as his eyes. An almost indescribable shade of blue . . .

Time, I think to myself for no reason at all. It's the color of Time . . .

My mind starts to clear . . .

"Who are you?" I whisper, but I'm not talking to him.

"Link," I whisper in answer to my question. "I'm Link . . ." I look over at the guy on the altar. "Am I you? Are you me?" I frown. Damn, this is awkward. The guy laughs, a pleasant, heartening sound, as he pushes himself into a seated position on the altar.

"I'm a part of you," he answers. "Or rather, a side of you, though even that isn't that accurate a description." I scratch my head, not surprised at all to find the same foolish hat there.

"And those guys back there . . . "

"Also sides of you," he answers. "Though each of them is loathe to admit that they share you. They're a little full of themselves, you see, and have a tendency to think that they're all there is to you. But I think you and I both know you're a little more complex than that." He offers me a crooked grin that is tainted by nothing but sincerity. I cross my arms and cock my head at him.

"You're the Hero of Time," I say.

"I've been known as that, and other things, from time to time," he replies, the grin taking on a relieved tint. "But I'm a bit more than just that. Perhaps there's a better way to look at it - at us, that is. At me and the others you met. Link, you have a lot of different faces that are available for you to use in different situations, and so far you've used them admirably. Those three you met up there, they're not the only faces you have, but they're some of the more prominent ones. A lot of people would be controlled by faces as strong as they are, but you've managed to control them instead, and that's no mean feat."

"Thanks . . . I think . . ." I say uncertainly. He smiles a bit.

"It was a compliment," he assures me.

"All right, then, so which face does that make you?" I ask.

"Well, see here's the thing," he says. "I'm not one of your faces, not really anyway. I'm a little more than that. Do you remember . . . and this is important, Link, so don't you dare zone out on me . . . when you met Princess Zelda for the first time, before you changed Time, why you believed her story? Do you remember why you did what she asked, despite all your valid doubts? Do you remember why you agreed to take on the impossible task of finding the Spiritual Stones in the first place?" I frown and try to remember, the effort causing the pain in my head to return.

"I . . . because . . . I was supposed to," I answer. "Because it felt right. Something told me that she was telling me the truth . . . that I needed to find those Spiritual Stones, one way or another."

"Your head is clearing up, that's good," he says. "I was afraid I might have been too late. Now, do you remember when, after you changed Time, you met Zelda again, how did you know that the Moblins were after you? Why were you so sure their attack on Castletown was your fault?" I shake my head with the effort of clearing away the fog.

"I . . . just did," I answer. "I just knew it was. Something . . . something was telling me . . ." My voice dies off as I start to understand his point.

"Do you remember at Lon Lon Ranch, when the Sages told you how you'd changed Time the first time? Why did you believe them, when by all rights, their tale was impossible and unlikely and obviously the made up delusions of a psychopathic group of people driven mad by something or other?"

"Because . . . it was familiar . . . I knew . . . it was the truth . . ."

"When you made the decision to jump in front of Hunter and Zelda and save them from Dark Link, despite the fact it meant you'd die and Ganondorf would come back . . . why did you do it anyway?" I close my eyes, fighting the throbbing in my head.

"Because . . . I had to . . . it was the right choice . . ."

"How did you know?" He whispers. "How did you know it was the right choice?"

"I just . . . did," I answer. "There was no other choice. I just . . . knew . . ." He hops off the altar and moves over to me.

"And that, Link, is what I am."

"What?"

"I am the part of you that knew jumping in front of Hunter and Zelda was right. I am the part of you that told you that the Sages were telling the truth. That the Moblins were after you. That the Spiritual Stones were important. I am the part of you that always overrides what everything, and everyone else is telling you to do, and to say, and to be, and lets you know what needs to be done." He touches his finger to my forehead and at the touch the pain in my head clears. I shake my head slowly.

"I am your heart of hearts," he tells me with a grin. "I'm the part of you that takes over when everything seems impossible and gets you through it. I'm the part of you that blocks out what everyone else wants and focuses on what needs to be done. I'm the part of you that, when push comes to shove, starts to shove back until you break through and see daylight. The part that won't give up, no matter what; the part that stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the odds; the part that fights until there's no fight left in you, but keeps going anyway."

"You're the Hero of Time," I say. He shakes his head.

"You are the Hero of Time," he answers. "I'm just a part of you."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I ask. "Why am I here?"

"Do you remember what happened, right before you came here?"

"I . . . was fighting," I answer, trying to bring the vague images in my brain into focus. "Something . . . happened. I died." I shake my head. "But that doesn't make any sense. If I died, how can I be . . ."

"Oh, you're quite dead, I assure you," he interrupts, folding his legs under him and sitting down. "Physically anyway. But in case you're wondering, no, this isn't the afterlife." I frown.

"Then what is it?" I ask.

"And here," he says, "is where we talk. There are some things you need to know about yourself Link, very important things. And you've been brought here so that I can relate them to you." I shrug and drop into a seated position across from him.

"If I'm dead I've got all the time in the world," I answer. "Fire away." His grin stretches a bit.

"That's just it, Link," he says. "Dead or alive, you do have all the Time in the world. Let's start small. Who created you?" I blink at the question and raise an eyebrow.

"My parents?" I offer.

"Wrong," he replies. "The Goddesses did. A very, very long time ago.

"The Goddesses?" I ask, unimpressed. He nods. "Really?"

"Really," he insists. "Why do you think you are one of the very few people with the abilities you have? Why do you think you are the only person in any kingdom, of any world, on any plane of existence, who can wield the Master Sword?" I frown.

"I . . . never thought about it, I guess," I answer. "I just kind of accepted it . . ."

"Of course you did," he answers. "Why wouldn't you? It's what you're made for, after all. But now you need to think about it, Link. There are some hard choices coming for you in the future, and if you're going to be ready for them you need to know about yourself and why you're special." I frown.

"The future?" I ask. "You're saying I have a future? I thought I was dead."

"We'll get to that," he replies easily. "Right now we're talking about you." I raise an eyebrow but gesture for him to continue. "You're aware, of course, of your ability to travel through Time using the pedestals and the Master Sword as a conduit. You've also assumed, since when you traveled back in time to meet your parents using the Sheikan Pedestal, you kept your present form, and when you traveled back in Time using the Temple of Time's Pedestal you went back into your child body, that each of the Pedestals do different things. This is partly true, but not entirely. It is not that they each do different things, but rather that you make them do different things. The Pedestals will react to your need at the time of their use and act accordingly. With practice you'll be able to control it, and it's very important that you do, as you'll be using those Pedestals a lot more than you think."

"Will I always be able to interact with myself like when I went back to my parents' time?" I ask, trying to absorb everything he's telling me and still kind of bemused at the idea that I'm talking to myself.

"It will be rare," he answers. "As a general rule people have Free Will, while Destiny sits on the back burner and watches, but every once in a while she steps in and meddles. Link, you need to understand that Time travel is very confusing, but you were specifically chosen - created! - with that ability in mind. You are one of the special cases in which Destiny steps in a bit more often than usual to keep you from tearing rifts in Time and Space left right and center. You don't need to worry about messing things up in that regard, because you can't."

"So I don't have Free Will," I say with a frown, not sure if I like that idea or not.

"Don't be stupid," he answers, making a face at me. "The Goddesses gave it to everyone, you included. Destiny is perhaps too strong a word, but it's the closest one I can think of for what I'm trying to get at. You can't hurt Time, Link, it's protected. Let's just leave it at that." He waits until I've digested that as best as I can before continuing. "Now, what you don't know is that you can also travel back and forth through Time with simply the Ocarina of Time and the Song of Time, although this method is much more limited than using a Pedestal. Again, with practice, you can get better at it, however. Are you following me so far?"

"No," I answer with a grin. "But keep going." He returns the grin.

"All right then," he answers. "Now, not only do you have the ability, with the right tools, to travel back and forth in Time, but also to travel back and forth between different planes of existence, and alternate realities using the same tools as you use to travel through Time. Some of these planes and realities are open to anyone who can find them. There is a reality named Termina, for example, which can be reached by traveling through a certain Lost Door buried deep in the Lost Woods. You don't need any kind of tool for that, you've just got to be stupid enough to wander that deep into the Woods. Most, however, are available only to the few with the tools and ability to reach them."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," I say, holding up my hands. "The few? I thought I was the only."

"The only who can travel through Time," he answers. "You're not the Hero of the Planes, now are you?"

"Granted," I say. "So who else can travel the Planes?"

"Well," he answers, "the Sages, for example, have limited Plane traveling abilities. They can go back and forth between the Sacred Realm and this one. That's about it for them. There are others, however, with more range - unlimited range, in fact, like you. You remember Bonooru, the Scarecrow?"

"Yeah, the one who couldn't remember more than eight notes?"

"That's him," he says. "Well he can travel between planes. There are others, but there's no point in listing them all. It doesn't really matter at this point. You just need to be aware of the fact that you're the only one who can do both Time and Planes."

"Do the Sages know all this?" I ask.

"Rauru does," he answers. "And the others know bits and pieces."

"Why didn't they explain it to me, sooner?" I demand, starting to feel a bit of the old huffiness over it. He grins at me.

"Well," he said, "considering the fact that you only knew them for what, a day or two this time 'round, and then they got captured, I don't really see how they could have told you anything." I raise an eyebrow.

"What about Rauru?" I demand. "He wasn't captured."

"No," he agrees, "he wasn't. He is, however, trapped in the Sacred Realm. He and Ganondorf got into no few conflicts during the Great War and in the last one Ganondorf sealed Rauru's physical body in the Sacred Realm, much the same way you've trapped him in the Dark Realm. The only way Rauru can now interact with the real world is through the form of the owl Kaepora Gaebora, and let's be honest, here, Link . . . would you really have accepted all of this coming from a talking owl?"

"I . . . suppose not," I relent.

"Besides," he adds, "it didn't really matter until now. Even if you didn't know all the ins and outs of your job, you were doing it just fine." I frown suddenly.

"Hey, you said there were alternate realities?" I ask. He nods. "Like where there's another version of Hyrule, with other versions of the people in it?" He nods again, slower.

"I think I see where this is going . . ."

"So there are other versions of me, running around out there?"

"No," he answers easily. "You are the only you in existence, anywhere. There are infinite number of realities, with infinite number of Hunters, and Neeshas, and Malons . . . but there is only one you. Or there was but that's another problem entirely, and not one for today." I frown at that, not liking the sound of it, but let it go anyway.

"Why is there only one me?" I ask. "Why am I special?"

"I told you," he answers, "the Goddesses created you with the specific purpose of defending their creation. You are more or less their pride and joy, much as you doubt it sometimes. Besides, imagine how complicated things would get if there was infinite yous, all with the ability to travel through Time and the planes. Even Destiny would have her hands full trying to keep everything in one piece."

"So why are you telling me all of this now?" I ask. "Why is it suddenly important for me to know all this, when it wasn't before?" He pauses for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wants to say.

"There comes a time in every boy's life, when he becomes a man, Link," he answers finally. "For the Sheikah, there's the Quisros, for the Gerudo, there's the Right of Passage mission, for the Hylians, Gorons and Zoras there's simply the Coming of Age, though the age may differ from race to race. By all rights, you've passed all of those rites of passage and then some and proven yourself a man to all of the races of Hyrule."

"What does this have to do with me being the Hero of Time?" I ask.

"You are the Hero of Time, regardless of your age," he answers. "You just are. It's as much a part of you as I am. However, as with anything, there is a choice involved - not unlike a Rite of Passage. If you ever doubted your own Free Will, here's the point where I prove you have it. You know what's involved in being the Hero of Time, Link. You know your duties better than I could ever explain it to you. You've understood them inherently since the beginning and you've explained them to no few people over the course of your life, whether you knew that's what you were doing or not. Now comes the point, where you get to choose. There are hard times ahead for you, Link. Don't get me wrong, there are good times too, but there will be points where those good times seem few and far between."

"What's going to happen?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Wish I knew," he said. "Unfortunately I'm not privy to that kind of knowledge. Even the Goddesses can't say for sure. You ever wonder why you can't travel forward in Time Link? It's because it hasn't happened yet. The future isn't set in stone, but we do get glimpses, from time to time, of events that have been set in motion. I can't tell you what's going to happen, but I can warn you that a lot of it will be unpleasant and hard."

"So what else is new," I say with a crooked smile. "So about this choice . . ."

"Right," he says. "You now have to choose between accepting the duties of the Hero of Time, and continuing on with the mission you've been following for the past 18 years, and countless lifetimes on top of that, and turning them down, relinquishing your responsibility and heading for retirement. It's not a choice to make, lightly Link." I frown.

"You said countless lifetimes . . ." He hesitates, trying to come up with a way to describe it.

"In that respect, you are not unique from your compatriots in the world," he says finally. "You, like them, will be reborn. Souls are eternal, Link, and they continue, again and again and again. What does make you unique is that your soul never really changes, and neither do you. No matter which world you're born into, no matter which Hyrule you come from, you're always the same. Your faces may change, but your heart of hearts, the part of you that is me, doesn't. You've faced this choice before - maybe not in this exact fashion, but the choice was made, one way or another - this isn't the first time, and it won't be the last, but it matters every bit as much as the rest of them do."

"What did I choose before?" I ask, but he only shakes his head and gets to his feet, gesturing towards the wall behind the altar, which has disappeared, revealing the oh-so-familiar octagonal steps that lead up to the Pedestal of Time. Though I can't see it from here, I know what's waiting for me there.

"The choice is yours, Link," he says. "Make it well." I turn around to ask him another question, but blink instead. He's gone. I'm alone.

Why is it, that in the end, I'm always alone?

I blow my bangs out of my eyes and turn around, approaching the steps behind the altar tentatively.

So this is it.

I climb the stairs and stand before the Master Sword, my arms crossed over my chest as I consider it and my choice.

Take up the sword . . . live by it . . . die by it . . .. If I pick up that sword now I spend the rest of my life fighting. I'm not stupid enough to think this is over, even if I do manage to defeat Ganondorf this time 'round. There will be other Ganondorfs. There will be other enemies. There are infinite enemies out there . . . all more than willing to take a crack at me. To kill me. To destroy me.

When you think about it, it doesn't sound like that great of a life . . .

Living from fight to fight, never knowing where the next blow will be coming from, putting everything you love at risk, simply by virtue of the fact that you love it . . .

On the other hand, I could leave the sword.

I could turn around and walk out of the room. Never have to fight another day in my life. Ever. I could retire. Rest. Sleep. I could love without fear of that love hurting anyone. I could be free to do what I wanted. Free from any responsibility save that to myself. No one would hold it against me. No one could possibly hold it against me. The life of the Hero of Time is not one worth wishing on anyone.

It's my choice.

No punishments, no rewards, only consequences.

It's a choice between chains and freedom . . .

Between fighting and sleep . . .

Between life and death . . .

Those are my options.

If I pick up that sword now it's chained to me forever. I'll never be free of it. Ever.

As I stare at the Master Sword, with the distinct impression that it's staring back - watching, waiting - . . . my lips twitch at one corner and stretch into a sarcastic, crooked half-smile.

I've made this choice a hundred thousand times in my own lifetime, forget about any others . . .

I made it when I leapt at those two stalchilds attacking Bruiser so long ago . . .

I made it when I rushed Dark Link at Lon Lon Ranch to save Zelda and Malon . . .

I made it when I threw myself into the fray between Brayden and Detsu in the past . . .

When I agreed to take on the stupid quest for the Spiritual Stones . . .

When I refused to leave Sheik's side at the well in Kakariko . . .

When I jumped in front of Hunter and Zelda at the Temple of Time . . .

What the Hell is the point in giving me a choice I've already made?

My answer never changes.

I reach out and grab the hilt of the Master Sword, ripping it out of the Pedestal with all of my strength . . .

Who ever said I wanted to be free of this damned thing anyway?

When the blue light has faded I find myself staring at the face of my heart of hearts, and he's wearing a grin at least as big as mine.

"You know what?" He says. "Out of all the Links who've ever faced this choice . . . not one has ever left the sword." He holds out his hand. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." We shake hands warmly, like old friends. "Now, go Hero!" He cries, stepping back from the Pedestal as I raise the sword over it again. "You've got a job to do!"

I drive the Master Sword back into the Pedestal and am immediately swept up in a sea of blue light. My grin widens as a single thought crosses my mind - for neither the first, nor the last time:

It's time to make like a Hero.