AN: This is a short and sweet fic, which I felt it necessary to write one
lonely day in college. Yes, it does eventually contain unusual pairings
(not that they've never been written though.it's just most of ya hate the
pairings) and yes, maybe a yaoi reference or two, depending on a) if people
request it, or b) if enough people review it to continue it so that it
develops into a much more detailed plot.
This is told from many different sides, may get confusing, but hey.I've only ever written one other Zelda fic, despite being on Fanficiton.net for years and despite having all of the Zelda games. So.no flamers please and review it enough to continue. God.I hate writing serious fics.
Sing A Song of Sorrow
I smiled softly, cautiously, almost gently.
My hands were raw and red with the rain that poured, the hilt of the Katakana clutched in my stinging hands. Slowly, I raised it above my head and with one swift motion, I severed all ties to life that you believed you had. My glittering eyes watched the head roll and then lifelessly drop.devoid of all life.mouth open in a silent plea.eyes wide, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Bending, I picked it up and stared long and hard at the features that stared back, before tossing it aside, so that it rolled once more and landed at its fallen corpses side. One hand was still clutching its blade for dear life, so I removed it - hand, blade and all. The blade was of a decent make. Strong, light, sharp.I decided to keep it. Gerudo's were known for their skills in weaponry making.it felt refreshing to know I now owned a blade of their make. Where was the other, though? Gerudo blades were used in pairs.I needed the other.where was it? Ah! The severed hand from hours before still ran wet with crimson blood, even before the rain began to pour. In it's final moment, it too had felt the need to clutch the blade that had failed to protect it. I smirked and pried the clod limp fingers apart - even in death they held their grip quite strong. Two new swords.two new Gerudo swords. I licked the blood from my lips and looked down at the fallen warrior, bending to take other things of minor - or major - value. I do believe I came away a happy person that day. With two new swords, several pieces of amber jewellery, a pearl necklace, solid gold arm rings, a silken robe - a little stained in the fight, but still washable - and some form of gold armour. Gerudo armour was also valuable to me.especially if my plan were to succeed. Next, I would collect Goron armour and weapons, then Zora, and finally.Hylian.
(***)
Nabooru looked away in disgust at the body laid before her, and then grit her teeth as she turned to address the Gerudo guards behind her. "What happened here?" Her accented voice was shaky and heavy, choked with sorrow.
The guards shook their heads. They had no idea. The second in command turned back to the mess and retched dryly. The desert sun had dried up the corpse somewhat, but it was obvious who it was even with the heat. The head had been cleanly severed with some weapon, one hand had been severed also - probably by the same weapon - and the other had seemingly been ripped from its socket! All valuables had stripped from the body, except for the clothing - which had all been left on the body, aside from the silk cloak.that was missing. In other words, someone - or rather something (Gerudo's tended to be superstitious) - had attacked one of the Gerudo guards in the middle of the night, had managed to fight her without making even the slightest of sounds to alert to other guards, and had executed her in a style that made sure she didn't know what had hit her.
"I would suggest bringing the body back to the fortress for a funeral." Nabooru spoke calmly now, keeping one hand subconsciously near the hilt of one of her swords, "If we leave the corpse rotting in the sun, we may attract Lizardalfos or worse." The orders given, the guards set to work, and Nabooru turned to see the large black Gerudo stallion behind her. Closing her eyes, she murmured, "My lord?" Ganondorf Dragmire stepped down and pushed Nabooru, then the guards aside - without a word, without a murmur. The females watched as their only male knelt down and gently titled the head to one side so that he could see who it was. When he stood again, his eyes were full of hate. "Who.did this?" He asked. His normally heavily accented voice was wrecked and broken with tears. They all hesitated and then either shrugged or shook their heads. The King of the Gerudo felt something within him snap and then.and then. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrr....RRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!" The sound of rock splitting with an almighty crack filled the air, and then dust formed around the King's feet. His shoulders rose and fell with each strained breath, heavy and filled with pain and sorrow. The guards shuddered with fear, stepping back to allow him some space. An enormous boulder had been split in half by the infamous Gerudo Punch. Ganondorf stood in front of it and continued to breathe heavy as the dust settled around his ankles. His face was filled with an odd mix of pain, of anger, of rage, of sorrow, and of passion to kill. His teeth were clenched tightly together and then.Nabooru saw the tears.
From eyes that had only ever looked upon things in either mocking or anger, the tears fell. Slowly making their way down his cheeks and dripping off onto his armour. For once, the King of Evil's eyes seemed.gentle.and filled with regret and sorrow. One huge hand moved slowly into a fist again - the Gerudo flinched at this - and then the other went flat. His fist met his open hand in front of him, and the King of Evil bowed over low, closing his eyes gently. The Gerudo breathed a sigh of relief and then did the same. All who had come into the desert that day stopped and paid some sort of homage to the fallen one and then they moved away as Ganondorf returned to Nabooru's side. "Have I been so evil as to deserve this?" He asked, and for once, Nabooru could not answer. He continued, "I escaped from Ganon.escaped from the Sacred Realm, to come here and start again.start my new life.with my people. After a while.even the Hero himself, and the Hylian race, and the Zora race, and the Goron race.they accepted me as living here. The wounds of the past though.they have not healed. Someone out there.someone must have been hurt so badly by me.by Ganon, that they felt it necessary to take my daughter's life." Ganondorf started to cry, Nabooru held one strong hand in both of hers as a comfort to him. He growled and then accepted the gesture, bending down to hug the woman who he had grown up with - who had helped defeat him when he was possessed. He cried into her shoulder and held her close, murmuring to her despite his tears. "Shakasha shall be avenged." He whispered, softly nuzzling Nabooru's neck, "And I shall see to it."
This is told from many different sides, may get confusing, but hey.I've only ever written one other Zelda fic, despite being on Fanficiton.net for years and despite having all of the Zelda games. So.no flamers please and review it enough to continue. God.I hate writing serious fics.
Sing A Song of Sorrow
I smiled softly, cautiously, almost gently.
My hands were raw and red with the rain that poured, the hilt of the Katakana clutched in my stinging hands. Slowly, I raised it above my head and with one swift motion, I severed all ties to life that you believed you had. My glittering eyes watched the head roll and then lifelessly drop.devoid of all life.mouth open in a silent plea.eyes wide, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Bending, I picked it up and stared long and hard at the features that stared back, before tossing it aside, so that it rolled once more and landed at its fallen corpses side. One hand was still clutching its blade for dear life, so I removed it - hand, blade and all. The blade was of a decent make. Strong, light, sharp.I decided to keep it. Gerudo's were known for their skills in weaponry making.it felt refreshing to know I now owned a blade of their make. Where was the other, though? Gerudo blades were used in pairs.I needed the other.where was it? Ah! The severed hand from hours before still ran wet with crimson blood, even before the rain began to pour. In it's final moment, it too had felt the need to clutch the blade that had failed to protect it. I smirked and pried the clod limp fingers apart - even in death they held their grip quite strong. Two new swords.two new Gerudo swords. I licked the blood from my lips and looked down at the fallen warrior, bending to take other things of minor - or major - value. I do believe I came away a happy person that day. With two new swords, several pieces of amber jewellery, a pearl necklace, solid gold arm rings, a silken robe - a little stained in the fight, but still washable - and some form of gold armour. Gerudo armour was also valuable to me.especially if my plan were to succeed. Next, I would collect Goron armour and weapons, then Zora, and finally.Hylian.
(***)
Nabooru looked away in disgust at the body laid before her, and then grit her teeth as she turned to address the Gerudo guards behind her. "What happened here?" Her accented voice was shaky and heavy, choked with sorrow.
The guards shook their heads. They had no idea. The second in command turned back to the mess and retched dryly. The desert sun had dried up the corpse somewhat, but it was obvious who it was even with the heat. The head had been cleanly severed with some weapon, one hand had been severed also - probably by the same weapon - and the other had seemingly been ripped from its socket! All valuables had stripped from the body, except for the clothing - which had all been left on the body, aside from the silk cloak.that was missing. In other words, someone - or rather something (Gerudo's tended to be superstitious) - had attacked one of the Gerudo guards in the middle of the night, had managed to fight her without making even the slightest of sounds to alert to other guards, and had executed her in a style that made sure she didn't know what had hit her.
"I would suggest bringing the body back to the fortress for a funeral." Nabooru spoke calmly now, keeping one hand subconsciously near the hilt of one of her swords, "If we leave the corpse rotting in the sun, we may attract Lizardalfos or worse." The orders given, the guards set to work, and Nabooru turned to see the large black Gerudo stallion behind her. Closing her eyes, she murmured, "My lord?" Ganondorf Dragmire stepped down and pushed Nabooru, then the guards aside - without a word, without a murmur. The females watched as their only male knelt down and gently titled the head to one side so that he could see who it was. When he stood again, his eyes were full of hate. "Who.did this?" He asked. His normally heavily accented voice was wrecked and broken with tears. They all hesitated and then either shrugged or shook their heads. The King of the Gerudo felt something within him snap and then.and then. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrr....RRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!" The sound of rock splitting with an almighty crack filled the air, and then dust formed around the King's feet. His shoulders rose and fell with each strained breath, heavy and filled with pain and sorrow. The guards shuddered with fear, stepping back to allow him some space. An enormous boulder had been split in half by the infamous Gerudo Punch. Ganondorf stood in front of it and continued to breathe heavy as the dust settled around his ankles. His face was filled with an odd mix of pain, of anger, of rage, of sorrow, and of passion to kill. His teeth were clenched tightly together and then.Nabooru saw the tears.
From eyes that had only ever looked upon things in either mocking or anger, the tears fell. Slowly making their way down his cheeks and dripping off onto his armour. For once, the King of Evil's eyes seemed.gentle.and filled with regret and sorrow. One huge hand moved slowly into a fist again - the Gerudo flinched at this - and then the other went flat. His fist met his open hand in front of him, and the King of Evil bowed over low, closing his eyes gently. The Gerudo breathed a sigh of relief and then did the same. All who had come into the desert that day stopped and paid some sort of homage to the fallen one and then they moved away as Ganondorf returned to Nabooru's side. "Have I been so evil as to deserve this?" He asked, and for once, Nabooru could not answer. He continued, "I escaped from Ganon.escaped from the Sacred Realm, to come here and start again.start my new life.with my people. After a while.even the Hero himself, and the Hylian race, and the Zora race, and the Goron race.they accepted me as living here. The wounds of the past though.they have not healed. Someone out there.someone must have been hurt so badly by me.by Ganon, that they felt it necessary to take my daughter's life." Ganondorf started to cry, Nabooru held one strong hand in both of hers as a comfort to him. He growled and then accepted the gesture, bending down to hug the woman who he had grown up with - who had helped defeat him when he was possessed. He cried into her shoulder and held her close, murmuring to her despite his tears. "Shakasha shall be avenged." He whispered, softly nuzzling Nabooru's neck, "And I shall see to it."