I DO NOT OWN ZELDA
"blah" - spoken dialogue
'blah' - thoughts
blah - telepathic/disembodied voice
Sandstorm Vignettes
Tale 3: From Whence He Came
He honestly couldn't remember how long he'd been standing there, drinking in the visage of the stone goddess before him. The wind whipped his cloak around him, but he didn't seem to notice.
Instead, his attention was focused solely on the Goddess in the Sand.
She's magnificent, isn't she? She wasn't really a goddess, but a very capable leader of the Gerudo some seven hundred years ago. She was a force to be reckoned with.
'You knew her?' he inquired.
Not personally. But stories of her conquests were plentiful, if a bit, over-the-top.
'Hn,' was the reply. 'Regardless, I have what I came for, so let's continue on.'
Hefting the red and silver crescent moon shield onto his back, he continued east to his destination.
The guard at the west gate stretched and stifled a yawn.
She had an important job, true enough, but it was just so damn boring that it wasn't even funny. So when the lookout above shouted that she saw someone in the distance, she was understandably nervous.
After all, the only things that came from this side of the desert with any frequency were Sand Nomads and Stalfos.
Forty five minutes later, she steeled herself as the stranger walked up and stopped five feet in front of her.
He was intimidating, she noticed. The black cloak with red clouds had a high collar that covered the bottom half of his face. But she could see his eyes.
They were dull, kind of a flat blue, accentuated by his blonde hair, and didn't seem to reflect anything, though they stared through her as though she were just another grain of sand in the desert.
She then noticed the sword strapped to his back. The VERY BIG sword strapped to his back.
It looked like it might have been of Goron make, but she couldn't be sure as all she could see was the hilt and the tip of the blade near his ankles; everything else had been wrapped in a white cloth.
Focusing on the task at hand, she asked, "Can I help you?"
In reply, he brought his right hand out of a fold in his cloak and handed her a piece of parchment.
'A membership,' she realized. And it had been signed by Lady Nabooru herself!
Yelling to the woman on the other side of the wall to open the gate, she handed the document back to the traveler.
He walked through the opening without so much as a "thanks".
Grumbling, the guard turned back to the open desert, and started her uneventful vigil once more.
The fortress was as he remembered it. The sentries made their rounds as they always had. Children ran wildly, playing in the sand or pretending to be Gerudo warriors.
All in all, it was dull.
A welcome change for us, I do believe.
The stranger nodded in agreement. Now, on to the next order of business.
Finding an inn would be a priority, and he had more than enough money to stay for as long as he liked. Moving to where he knew the Sirocco Inn was, he opened the door and was going to move to the counter when something collided heavily into his back.
Looking behind him, he saw a woman clad in white in the process of picking herself up off of the ground. Dismissing it, he made to move to the counter, when a hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey moron," the voice growled, "why don't you quit blocking the friggin' entrance and-"
A moment later, she found herself face-down on the floor; her arm wrenched behind her back, and a blade at her throat.
The stranger took a deep breath, then released it slowly and evenly. "If you EVER," he whispered, "disrespect me again, I'll rip your arms off and beat you to death with them." Another deep breath. "Do you understand?"
The response. "Screw you."
He wrenched her arm tighter, to the point where it felt like her shoulder would separate. "Do. You. Understand?"
"Yeeesss," she hissed.
The pressure on her arm was gone, and so was the blade at her throat. She moved to a kneeling position and looked behind her, seeing the outsider handing one red and one purple rupee to the white-as-a-sheet innkeeper, who in turn gave him a key and motioned to the stairs.
He nodded, and moved to the steps, short sword still in hand. When he got to the bottom step, he stopped.
"You know," he said, without turning around, "I think Nabooru made a grave mistake promoting you. You still have a volatile temper and you pick fights for the most juvenile of reasons. You really should re-evaluate the way you live your life."
He began walking up the stairs.
She glared at him, too pissed to hear what he'd said. She burned him into her memory. The cloak. The blonde hair. The over-sized sword. The small one with the blue-silver blade, inlaid with gold.
Wait? Blue-silver blade, inlaid with gold? And blonde hair?
Her eyes widened.
Screams of "rat bastard" echoed throughout the fortress.
An hour following Minana's 'outburst', the fortress had become aware of the return of Link. And it was the speed of this gossip that found Link in Nabooru's office.
"So," the sage started, "when were you going to let us know you were back?"
He stared at her, mouth still hidden by the collar of his cloak.
"I wasn't."
She raised an eyebrow, and looked at Sherida, who looked at her from the documents she'd been signing. Turning back to Link, she frowned. "Why? You're family here. There's no need for anonymity among friends."
Link looked to the side, as if searching for an answer, then turned back to her, brows furrowed. "I wasn't planning on being here long." He closed his eyes. "I've got some business in the east, and was only planning on staying long enough to get my bearings."
Nabooru looked thoughtful. "Far be it from me to keep you from your work, but maybe you could put it off for a week or two. After all, the Sand Goddess Festival is coming up."
Sherida chimed in. "Right! It's only a once a year thing, and you didn't stay long enough last time to see it."
Link looked doubtful. Why were they trying to keep him from leaving? They didn't plan to turn him in for his bounty, did they?
Don't be stupid. There isn't a bounty out for you in this country. Your paranoia astounds even me.
'Shut up,' he growled inwardly. 'What possible reason could they have for tying me down for so long?'
Not everyone who asks you to do something has an ulterior motive.
'Right, not everyone. Just everyone else.'
He looked to Nabooru. "Okay," he said, "but after the festival, I'm departing. We clear?"
She smiled. "Alright. That's all we could hope for."
With that, the young man turned for the door when a voice stopped him.
"Hey Link," Nabooru asked with a playful smirk, "how 'bout you let us see your face?"
Link didn't turn around.
"Maybe later."
And then he left the room.
The wind played with Link's hair as he made his way to the archery field. The sky was a pastel of reds, pinks, purples and oranges. Link had decided to travel without the cloak and so he moved to the field in a Goron tunic and black leggings. He'd pilfered the Silver Gauntlets from the Spirit Temple when he'd left on his journey as a child and was wearing those now. Other than that, he carried only his money pouch, the Fairy Bow, and his Gilded Sword at his left hip.
Arriving at the area, he moved to the girl and paid her for a round of horse-back archery.
Turning to one of the standard Gerudo-bred stallions, he walked up to it and whispered in it's ear, before mounting and setting off.
As the steed reached it's galloping speed, Link allowed himself a smile for the first time in days. This is where he felt the most at home. It wasn't battle, but it was the same sense of exhilaration. Removing the bow from his back and nocking an arrow, he focused on the jars to his right.
Seven shots and seven shatters later, he was bearing down on the target at the west end of the field. He fired with a speed that seemed unnatural, but managed three bulls-eyes and one slightly to the left of the mark.
As his mount turned the post, Link dug his heels in and spurred his ride on.
Link turned to face the targets on his left and let some of his triforce power leak into him. With a clarity that enveloped his very being, he struck dead center on each of the targets before unloading the rest of his stock into the center ring of the eastern target.
Link dismounted the horse, and after giving the reins to the still speechless girl, made his way back to his room.
He supposed nineteen out of twenty was acceptable.
"Invasion of privacy now, is it?"
Link closed the door and turned into his room. At the foot of his bed sat Nabooru, leaning back on her arms. She gave him a once-over.
"You look different in red," she concluded.
"It keeps the heat out," he returned, moving through the room while removing the gear and clothing on his upper body. "Get out, please. I need to wash up."
She noticed the multitude of small scars on his body, but none stood out as much as the one on his face that ran from the middle of his chin to the base of his left ear.
"Stupid Garo tried to cut my throat," he answered, quelling her unspoken question, "but I managed to turn my head out of the way in time."
She stood slowly and crossed the room to him. When she reached for his cheek an iron grip stilled her hand. "I have this thing about people invading my personal space," he said, "you'd do well to remember that."
He let her go and she sauntered to the door.
"Do you want me to have someone send dinner up to you?" She stood with a hand on the doorknob and another on her hip.
He looked thoughtful. "If it's convenient for you."
She nodded and made her way out the door, stopping just before it shut. "Hey kid," she said from her side, "you really need to lighten up. It's not healthy for you to be so suspicious of everything. Anyway, goodnight, and I'll have something sent up."
With that, the door was shut and Link was left to himself.
"Easy for you to say," he muttered, "you haven't had people hunting you for the past five years."
An hour later, after he'd cleaned up and finished his meal, he relaxed onto the bed, everything and nothing running errant in his mind.
How so soon will we begin the operation?
Link sighed.
'It depends on unknown variables. The soonest we could move is in a month, barring any unwanted interference.' He smirked. 'That old codger's gotten so complacent in recent years that it disgusts me.'
If Nabooru finds out about this, she'll likely kill you.
'My lips are sealed,' the man replied. 'You plan on running your mouth?'
Do not insult my loyalty, brat. Besides, with which lips would I gossip? You've not given me a physical presence in some time.
'Soon enough. I can guarantee that your power will spear-head this next conflict.'
I look forward to it.
Link moved to sit on the side of the bed and looked out the window at the many stars hanging in the night sky.
His thoughts strayed to the woman whom his younger self considered a friend, yet now, he could only see as a potential obstacle.
Lowering his head, he let out a shuddering breath.
'Farore, please don't give me a reason to kill her.'
He would continue to sit through the night until the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon, before catching a half-hour nap and then rousing himself to begin the day.
Business as usual.
End Chapter
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