4 – Trees

The Grand Library of Mountbasten was one of those quaint little places that really rather did live up to its name. Link, his fellow adventurers striding behind him, marvelled at the immaculately polished floor that squeaked every time they stepped on it, and wondered at the thin marble pillars, ringed with gold, that curved up into arches made in the image of twin dragons. If he got back home – once he got back home, he vowed, he'd build something just as splendid. Books and scrolls filled the shelves, parchments rustling in the torchlight, scroll handles clicking as the hushed browsers pushed them into place, and the air was heavy with a musty scent – Link, ever the avid seeker of knowledge – thought he was in paradise.

Not that the Shadow Lord had the time to stay, he thought sadly. He looked down at the crystal in his hand – he found that he'd been holding it so tight that it dug unsightly red lines into his palm – and the image of the clock floated up to the surface. The second hand was just approaching 'seven' now.

"Gentlemen," said Link, stopping short. "Split up and begin your search."

Simon DeLance, an odd expression lining his face, coughed politely. "What is it we're looking for again?"

Closing his eyes, the Shadow Lord sighed. "It is tradition, for people such as ourselves, to procure a map – and a compass – before we enter any of the broken-down, ghastly-creature-infested hovels that the people of Hyrule – in their sweet ignorance – label as Temples. A more accurate name would be 'Deathtraps from the Very Depths of the Pit of Fire Itself', or alternatively, 'The Great Cucco Resthome,' which, now that I come to think of it, is what I'll call them from now on." He paused to ponder about it, then added: "In fact, soon as I'm back in old Castly, I'll pass a decree to that effect." He took in a deep breath, noticed that the others were looking at him strangely, and smiled. "Today, we're looking for the map. Our hidden temple – pardon me as I try not to laugh at that name – is so cunningly disguised that those that designed it decided to leave the map here in this very Library, back when it was known as Old Man Sawdust's Little Hut of Horrors, so convinced were they that nobody could find it."

"My word," said Mr Red, gazing around with a look of supreme contentment resting on his face. "This is some place, what?"

Link smiled some more. "Try not to lose your head, mate," he turned to face the ReDead, "or any other part of your body, if you'd be so kind."

"But," said Simon, stepping forward. "What about the compass?"

Licking his lips, the Shadow Lord explained: "I've come to the conclusion that the compass is actually really quite useless. Not only that, but you can usually find it in a conveniently placed treasure chest inside the very temple – would you hark at the name? – itself." He cleared his throat, as though a little embarrassed. "And, um," he fished inside his hat, "-I bought one already. From nice Mrs Peabody in the Mountbasten gift shop. Why I never thought of this in the past is somewhat beyond me." He turned around. "Now, gentlemen. I believe we have work to do."

The group dispersed, and Link found himself perusing a shelf beside a large oval window. The day had turned sour as the sun had declined and now great spurts of rain drummed down on the glass, blurring any sight of the outside world. Link found his heart humming in time to the beat – along with the crackle of torches that spat in the near gloom, this was one of those days that, Link mused, one should stay indoors and just relax and float away. Shame he had no time to do so.

He turned his attention to the bookshelf and ran a finger along the uneven row of book spines and scroll handles. Pulling a tome out at random, he blew on the cover to scatter the dust, then peered at the title.

Link raised an eyebrow.

He read the title out loud: "The Legend of Esmerelda: the Saxophone of Space."

Shaking his head, he set it back in its place, then picked out another. This time his eyes narrowed. He read the title: "Larry Motter and the Prisoner of East Pakistan." He looked up. He glanced around the room. He gazed out of the window. He looked back at the book. Then, muttering under his breath, he said: "Where in the blue blazes is East Pakistan?"

Looking up, Link saw Navi floating by the window, staring into the rain-soaked distance, her features tight. "Penny for your thoughts, love?"

"It's nothing," she replied, her already tinny voice sounding even smaller.

But the Shadow Lord knew his old friend better than that. "I'm sure the rumours aren't true, love," he said, his voice equally quiet. "I'm sure it's more a skirmish than an all-out war."

"I hope so." She sounded broken, disconsolate.

Link pursed his lips. He knew he wasn't very good at this sort of thing – this was more Zelda's forte. He held out his palm. "Hop on over here, love." Navi glanced at him uncertainly, then slowly descended to land on his hand. "I know this may sound like I've gone a bit soft in the head in my middle age, but whatever happens, love, there's always you and me." He smiled. "Always has, always will."

Navi gave him a brave smile. "I know."

"You stopped me from going insane when the Princess – who, I suspect, was a little gone in the head at that point in time as well; I think marriage to me helped cure her of that particular malady – when the Princess sent me on her little quest for the Spiritual Stones, single-handedly breaking all child labour laws in every single known state in the world."

Navi giggled, an amused glint in her eye. "Oh, really?" she squeaked. "I thought you said I drove you insane, not kept you from it."

"You did that, too." Link frowned. "I mean you did both. Or one or the other. Or both at the same time. Or something."

Navi laughed helplessly, then looked him straight in the eye. "Thanks," she said. "I mean it." There was a moment's silence before she added, "But, Link...are you really going to let the Fairies just kill each other?" She smiled nervously. "Like you told Twinrova you would?"

"I do what I have to, love, what's right by the Princess." He hadn't wanted the words to come out so harsh, but it was done now. Trying to defuse the situation, he said, "Silly woman probably bit into some poisoned apple some witch brought into the Castle. I mean it was only last month that she pricked her finger on a spinning loom and she was out like a baby weaned on too much Red Potion. Had to drop her into the moat to wake her up." He blinked, reminiscing. "Dropped her in a second time after she complained about me dropping her in the first place. And what was she doing with a bleedin loom in the first place anyway?"

"Well," said Navi, smiling again, and knowing full well that Link was embellishing the story somewhat. "I can tell that you are worried."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Making herself comfortable on Link's palm, Navi propped her chin up on one hand, kicking the air as she laid flat on her front. "Nowadays you only ever tease the Princess when you're worried about her."

The Shadow Lord was about to snap out a stinging denial but, with a thousand memories swirling in his head, his face softened in a rare moment of candour. "We're like trees, love, the three of us – you, me, the Princess."

"Trees?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "If you plant seeds too close to each other, you know how they grow?" Without waiting for a reply, he said, "Together, love. Winding around the other, all the branches tangled up so that you can't make out one tree from the other. That's the three of us, love. Even if one wanted to let go, they couldn't. You cut one of us down, the other two just aren't...whole anymore."

Navi looked up at him, blinking, her face a shadow in the fading light. "Sometimes even trees do have to let go."

"Not unless you trust," Link replied automatically.

"Trust?"

The Shadow Lord pressed his lips together in an enigmatic smile. "Never mind, love."

There was a tap on his shoulder. Link, letting the little Fairy flutter away from his hand, turned to see Simon DeLance behind him, casting furtive glances here and there. "Is there something troubling you, young Mr DeLance?" the Shadow Lord asked impatiently.

Simon drew himself up to his full height. "I know what you're doing is for a good cause, and I'm grateful that you've enlisted my aid-"

"You bleedin well should be grateful," Link growled. "Must be a bit of change to be doing something to help instead of crying your soft little heart over it, innit?"

Simon frowned, as though unsure as to whether he'd just been complimented or insulted. He pressed on regardless. "I have decided," he said, "that after all this is over I need to find out what it is that drives me to the core."

Link turned away with a sigh. "Let us know how you get on with that, eh, mate?"

Simon clasped his shoulder and pulled him back around. "No, you don't understand," he said, his voice taking on a desperate tone. "I need to find out who Simon DeLance actually is."

"I suspect you'll find that he is, in fact, actually Simon DeLance." There was a pause as Simon glared at the Shadow Lord. "Shocking, isn't it?"

"I want to find myself!"

"Ever considered purchasing a mirror?"

Throwing up his hands, Simon gave a snort of disgust. "Oh, why do I bother? I mean, really."

Leaning in close, so much so that he could smell the anxiety rolling off of the youngster, Link whispered, "Perhaps if you'd stop viewing the world in terms of yourself – you know, mate, stop thinking about how it relates to you, and rather ponder on how you can relate to it – you'd find that you don't have to find yourself at all, you'd find that you'll see yourself in everyone else, that you'll only find out who you truly are – both the good of you and the bad - when you give yourself to others, rather than expecting them to give themselves to you." He winked. "Try it, mate. Won't be easy. You'll fail more times than you'll succeed – and maybe you'll learn from your slips, and maybe you won't - but it beats moping. Do what needs to be done, mate, not what makes you feel good."

"I hardly think dying is going to make me feel good."

"No, but the notion that you'll be remembered as a martyr must tickle you senseless, right, mate? Always taking the quick route out instead of being the change you want to see in others, aren't you?"

Simon held his gaze with a glare once more, then shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No, I don't suppose you do, do you, mate? Your mind must shut down when someone mentions somebody other than you, eh? I'd wager that when someone bumps you in the street, you convince yourself that they did it deliberately because heaven forbid that the world doesn't spin just for you and that everyone isn't just out to get you, hmm? " Link watched the young man stalk off before he called after him: "And don't try to strangle yourself any cord, you hear?"

Link shook his head. He didn't want to say anything – as he'd grown older he'd become tired of giving the same old story to the hundreds of blighters who all shared the same morbid thoughts as Simon DeLance. He'd learned just to keep it quiet, and to lead by example instead. At least he thought he had, that is. But the poor fellow was getting on his nerves and, though Link knew he probably wouldn't listen, something just had to be said.

Hands on his hips, the Shadow Lord gazed up at the bookcase. This was going to take too long and time was something he didn't have. He wished he still had the Ocarina, but that rather ingenious little device had been lost for decades. He could do nothing now...except trust...trust...

The Shadow Lord felt a tingle in his heart, then reached out and pulled free a yellow, crackling scroll. He smiled as he saw the title: Ye Olde Mappe of Ye Cunningly Hidden Temple (So Named by Those Rather Barmy in Ye Olde Headd) of the Forest of Kokiri.

2

The map crinkled as Link stretched it out on the table below the oval window, the others – Navi included – huddling around him. It occurred to him just then that he'd done this very action in the presence of hundreds of different people many times before. Same old story, he supposed.

The raindrops cast a myriad distorted shadows over the faded scroll, the Library illuminated now just by the steady flicker of spitting torches standing atop long stalks of thin marble.

"Navi, love," Link said softly. "Come a little closer."

Lowering herself so that she hovered just above the map, the Fairy's natural light cut through the gloom like a lighthouse in the proverbial dark and stormy night. As if on cue, lightning flashed, suddenly engulfing the entire Library in bright bone-white light.

Link arched an eyebrow. "Did someone mention 'destiny'?"

The ReDead shook his head, almost making it drop off in the process.

"Not I, old chap," Mr Red said.

"What?" said Simon DeLance.

"Never mind," the Shadow Lord replied, smiling. He hunched over the table, peering down at the faded ink below the curling corners of the map. From outside, the rain continued to pound against the building, filling the Library with a distant rhythmic hiss. "Hmm…let's have a gander now." His eyes darted across the length of the parchment, one finger tapping against the side of his chin. "I suppose it would be hidden deep...probably far into what is now a battleground...probably buried deep in – oh, look!"

"What?" the others said in unison.

"The entrance to the Temple – ha! – is under a boulder just after the first ring of trees in Kokiri Forest." Link grinned. "I do wish the designers were still around so that I could congratulate them personally. Ingenious!"

"That's it?" Simon said.

"Well, that's jolly spiffing," Mr Red piped in. "Either way – deep inside or just outside – it would have been a terribly wonderful adventure, what?"

Simon rounded on him. "What, what?" he demanded.

Mr Red smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, old chap, is there a problem, what?"

Seething, Simon's eyes bore into Mr Red's face. "Why do you keep saying 'what'?"

"Do I, what?" Mr Red replied. "Awfully remiss of me."

Link held up a hand. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm. "Let's keep it cool now." He glanced at both of them, then went on: "I brought you both for a reason. Normally I'd undertake this kind of enterprise all on my lonesome – and Navi, of course – but I just don't have the time, mates. Though after meeting you both, I'm not entirely sure what you did to warrant such fulsome reputations, you two can apparently navigate this Temple – laugh? look at me, I'm almost choking – far far more speedily than I can." He looked up. "Mr Red – no doubt, regardless of the twisted sense of what may pass as humour belonging to these designers, no doubt the whole place is more booby-trapped than Tingle guarding his chest of underwear. You, my friend, are going to snap this trap – innit?"

Mr Red stood up straight, puffing out his chest and giving off a short salute. "Happy to serve, sir," he said, giving a wary glance in Navi's direction. "And a frightfully splendid time I'll have doing it, too."

The Shadow Lord grinned. "That's the spirit, mate." A thought came to him. "I'm also under the impression that your knowledge of Fairy culture is quite extensive, is it not?"

Mr Red fired off another short salute. "Sah! True, as you say, old chap."

"I won't ask how you become enamoured in that particular diversion; I'll just thank you to share the relevant information when necessary." Link swivelled on his heels. "Young Mr DeLance – unfortunately, the precise location of the Fairy Treasure of the Ancients is not marked on this here map. You, my misguided and somewhat self-destructive friend, are going to find this treasure for me. Get it? Got it? Good."

Simon rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway.

"By the way," Link added. "How is it that you didn't become fabulously wealthy via this particular skill of yours?"

Clearing his throat noisily, Simon gazed sheepishly at the floor and mumbled something.

The Shadow Lord craned his neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," Simon replied, his jaw set. "That every time I was hired for this kind of job, I'd find the treasure, despair of the materialistic shallowness of my employers and in my attempt to off myself, I'd find that those very same employers had run off with the said treasure." He managed to look suitably abashed. "I mean, the sheer inconsideration of these people!"

"Heartbreaking, I'm sure," Link replied, his voice sour. "After all this is over, you'll both be rewarded handsomely, I promise you that as the supreme ruler of Castleton." His eyes found Simon's. "Just try not to kill yourself until then-"

"What about me?" the ReDead cut in. "What am I going to do?"

Link opened his mouth, frowned, snapped it shut, thought about it, opened it again, thought some more, and frowned. "Well..." he said.

"Hey!" Navi said, back to her usual self and spinning around and around in the air. "He can be our muscle!"

"That's it!" the Shadow Lord cried. "Our muscle! Nice one, love."

Grinning some more, Link winked, then gave the ReDead a friendly slap on the arm. It promptly fell off. They all looked down, gazing at the dismembered limb.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

And another.

Somewhere outside, an owl hooted. Somewhere inside, parchments rustled.

"He could use it as a club," Mr Red said finally.

"A club! That's it! Yes!" Link cried, grinning once more. "Excellent idea!" He let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding in. "Now if you'd all just prepare yourselves-"

"I say, old chap," Mr Red said, cutting in with an amenable smile. "As much as it would be a whole bucketload of laughs, I don't think we can go out in this dark."

Simon nodded, lazily flicking a silver strand of hair from his eyes. "For once, I agree."

Link stared out of the window, saw the heavy blanket of darkness penned in with swirling angry clouds, and knew that they were right. His face blank, he let his fingers curl around the crystal once more. "Sunrise, then," he said, his voice soft and small. "As soon as dawn cracks, we're on our way."