AN: So much for updating early! XD I apologise for being so long with this chapter, what with having birthdays and a massive work load over the summer. School has finally finished for me now, so hopefully I will be able to update at least a little faster now. And here's where those Kokiri come in, by the way. Remember ages in chapter 3 ago I introduced a little bit about them? Well here's where it's finally put to use XD Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 12:

It was a widespread fact that the forests surrounding the southern border of Hyrule had been completely ravished by the war, the mighty pillars of wood having been torn down in a single bombardment. Their withered and wrinkled corpses still littered the ground, fallen from their mighty posts as guardians of Hyrule. The fabled woodland that had once been impenetrable was now nothing but a disappointing sight to behold.

Everything that had once inhabited that strange, mysterious place was gone. Though everything had grown far too close together for bird and beast to dwell in the eerie silence, there had always been a magical essence of life flowing through the earth. For those woods were where the legendary Kokiri were said to live, the immortal children of the forest that never grew old. Though no one had ever seen a Kokiri, the people still believed that this mystical race protected the Hyrule forests that barricaded the land from enemy invasion.

However the romanticism that lingered in the fading hope of Hyrule's children, the dramatic tales of the forest boy who saved the world from the clutches of evil, and the high esteem the Kokiri received, were completely unknown to the small children. They were oblivious to the world of the outsiders, their concerns barely reaching beyond their own. But their universal kindness and sincerity held them together stronger than any mutual love could ever join them.

The Kokiri were indeed a very quiet set of creatures, and anyone would have been amazed to learn of their behaviour. By day they each scoured the forests, running between the treetops and jumped silently from branch to branch, berries and fruit being their targets during the morning. The greedy ones would slip a few into their mouths before they turned back and made their way home with an incredible sense of direction. A Kokiri always knew where they were, even if they had ventured to the very ends of the woodland where the grass sinks away under the hard, cracked sands of the deserts.

And so as the sun reaches the centre of the sky, they all crane their heads up and instantly begin their journey home. The day's gatherings would then be shared and feasted upon joyfully, small fires burning brightly in the very heart of the forest. Then the night would come, the fires would be smothered, and all would retreat back into their tree houses, leaving the place no quieter than it had been during the day.

But some seemed to never sleep at all, and roamed the forests even though the sun had long disappeared over the tops of the trees. One culprit of this restlessness was the leader of the Kokiri himself. Ever since the great warriors had destroyed their home, his eyes could never close lest the dreadful drumming sounds begin to strum up in the distance. The day that the fires ravaged through the forest like the mighty dragon Volvagia was something that would haunt his dreams until the end of time. He dared not to close his eyes in the darkness. Instead he kept a vigilant watch for the glaring orange eyes of fire that might suddenly spark up in his vision deep in the forest.

The invaders attack had been in the middle of the night, and all at once there seemed to be smoke filling the air, rising high up into the Kokiri tree houses and choking the throats of the children. There were muffled screams and smothered shouts from all around, his name being called from all directions.

"Mido, help us!" - "Mido, save us!"

He had tried his best to rescue as many as he could, but the fires hung around the tree trunks so tightly that they eventually crumbled under its searing heat, bringing many of the Kokiri homes crashing to the ground. Mido had turned away and fled when the first one fell along with the survivors. It was too horrific to behold, too sorrowful to watch his brethren plummet to their deaths. The crying wretches of the trees ripped at his heart too, their ancient limbs cracking and killing the very creatures that had grown alongside them since the dawn of time.

The fires and the smoke were left behind before anyone could think about those caught in the fray. But the noises that filled the air were perhaps the most frightening, for the Kokiri were not accustomed to hearing anything other than their own voices. The low grunts and yells from far below on the forest floor terrified them, and the state of panic and fear struck many of the remaining few. Some went mad with lunacy, overwhelmed by the feelings that coursed through their small bodies, screaming that they were possessed with demons. Mido helped those that he could, but he was forced to leave some behind to roast in the ensuing flames.

Never looking back they ran away all through the night until they reached the very ends of the forest. By now the fires and shouts were long behind them, a nasty nightmare that was so obscured in their memories that some doubted it even happened. But Mido never thought for a moment that none of his excruciating agony and betrayal was unreal. Those feelings had been very real indeed, and never had he felt so small. He now knew why he really loathed those from the outside.

Link had been no different. He was an outsider, a boy without a fairy, and child that had somehow caught the eye of his love, Saria. At the time he didn't know that the origin of his hatred of outsiders was jealousy, but Link's departure had placed a curse over the forest, just as he had warned. Those monsters infiltrated their home. It was Link's fault. Mido had done all he could as a leader too save his people. It was the outsiders that had brought pain and suffering into the forest. Link was no different from the soldiers that had marched through the forests that day.

So Mido never slept. He sat at the base of the forest watching, straining his eyes for even the smallest notion of movement. Since that day he had resolved to become a true defender of his people, and he had learned the ways of the sword, and despite it being made from wood, that sword had grown more attached to Mido than anything else. It always rested quite comfortably in his right hand, be it night or day.

But the day had long since ended, and once again Mido sat atop his tree stump. He watched his friends drift back into their huts now built on the solid ground, and one by one they called 'goodnight' to the solemn, solitary figure. He sighed and made a faint gesture to all of them, never once taking his eyes off the darkness before him. Without the sun there was no sense of time at all, and Mido sat for what seemed like days.

But his refusal to sleep often paved the way for his vision to be deceived. As he stared into nothing the night air seemed to slither in between the trees. Something was resonating far in the distance and at once Mido grasped his sword tightly in his hand. He looked up but saw no thunderclouds in the sky and no storms approaching. The Kokiri leader listened again, and the sound was definitely not coming from the heavens, but from deep within the forest. It wasn't the same rumble as battle drums or the rhythmic beat of a horse; but it was a constant humming sound that moved over the earth.

Suddenly Mido thought he could see a faint aura of emerald light pulsating between the trunks. He rubbed his eyes, but it still shimmered among the dingy monolithic trees. It was too large to be a stray fairy, but it moved cautiously and erratically.

"Who's there?" he called out trying to sound unafraid.

"Do not be afraid, Mido," it called soothingly. "I have a message for you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Saria?"

"Yes, Mido." The sword dropped from his fingers. "You must listen very carefully, my friend, for what I am about to tell you is of great importance." He nodded dumbly. "When the morning sun rises a stranger will stumble across these woods, and you must shelter her. Time is running short, Mido, and I cannot stay here long otherwise I will be discovered. Please, you must do this, for all our sake."

The light began to disappear almost immediately after the spirit uttered its last word. "Wait! Saria, don't go!"

"Who are you talking to, Mido?" his fairy said poking his head out of his master's hood.

"Saria."

"You must be seeing things, Mido. There was nothing there."

"Be quiet!" Mido hissed. Sensing his master's anger, the fairy retreated quietly underneath his hood. "Saria spoke to me, didn't she?" he continued quietly. "Didn't she?"

The sands swirled in the air so thickly that Zelda could barely see where she was going. The floating dark figures were no longer visible in the grating winds of the desert, but she could feel her heart beat wildly on the edge of insanity. High-pitched shrills whisked past her ears, mocking and teasing her senses, and Zelda knew that the invisible witches were still hiding in the yellow tumult somewhere. At any moment she might cross their path or catch a glimpse of them beside her. It was enough to make her fingers tremble against the reigns, her mind overwhelming itself with fear.

The small inlet of the Colossus suddenly broke away into the vast expanse of the desert, and the vague shapes of the rocky walls fell away from Zelda's vision. It were as if the earth had vanished from underneath her feet, and terror grasped her from behind, so much so that Zelda veered her horse sharply to the right and unconsciously headed south.

The rocky outcrops of the landscape gradually came back into view, but minutes passed before Zelda felt completely assured about what her frightened eyes were telling her. The obscured shape ran parallel to her, and she clung to it desperately, following the escarpment blindly.

For what seemed like hours, Zelda galloped further and further south into the desert, the sun sinking faster and faster behind the veil of dull red grains. They grew bluer in colour, deep and dark as the night sky. But it was not the sand in front of her eyes that was growing to mimic the night sky, but the air in fact became clearer, and gradually Zelda left the sandstorms behind. The stray, gritty grains slid off her face and loosed themselves from her hair and her clothes. A brief calm rested upon Zelda's shoulders, and she let out the breath that had been trapped inside her.

In the clear evening she could now see that the ridge beside her had lowered considerably into nothing more than a low hill. The plateau upon it sloped gently in the opposite direction to which she was riding, and from what she could remember, it was this plateau that she needed to take in order to reach the southern border. It could curve around the desert land, eventually turning east, but the desert itself was enclosed in this crater. The only way to the border was through the paths of the highlands and down the steep slopes of the mountains that marked the Gerudo territory.

Taking a small glance behind her, Zelda directed her horse toward the small ridge and the beast leapt into the air and heaved itself upward. With an amazing force they almost flew up the hill, and Zelda felt a great surge of power as the strong strides of the horse drove them forward. A flame of hope struck up in a quick blaze, and the sight of nothing pursuing her filled Zelda with a new sense of courage.

The highland suddenly loomed in front of her. The ridge had hidden their pointed, jagged peaks before, and, had it been daylight, Zelda was sure it would have seemed like a mighty rocky inferno swallowing the horizon. But at that moment the peaks were glazed in a thin silver streak of moonlight, and their great ebony shadows towered above anything else. The rugged surface looked as though a divine hand had shattered it into a thousand tiny pieces all miraculously joined together, balancing precariously in the distance. But though it too seemed a victim of the violence that had invaded Hyrule, little iridescent slivers of light broke through.

Zelda looked forward with a strange sense of wonder. The indescribable beauty locked away in the looming landscape left her in awe; she could remember no sight more wonderful than that very instance the fading light glistened against the midnight sky. The war had left much of Hyrule exhausted and dissipated. It had stripped and raped the land of its charm and vigour, brutally pilfering what little love remained in the world. It had taken everything and nothing. It had killed what people held most dear, and yet left them there to suffer.

The princess bit her lip to hold in the choking sob caught in her throat. She looked down and rode on, not once looking up at the beautiful horizon again. It reminded her too much of what she had lost, and what she had yet to overcome. Though harsh and unforgiving, the forbidden desert had its rewards if you went searching. Hyrule on the other hand could give you nothing at all, not matter how hard you tried.

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It was almost sunrise when Zelda stopped. The beautiful mountains were now behind her, even more menacingly tall than they were before. Just as she had crossed the range, there on the next horizon was a small haze of green beneath the rising rose and saffron clouds in the sky. From where she stood those trees had seemed like a prickly forest of pointed peaks again, but as the sunlight bounced off the deep emerald branches, Zelda felt a smile.

Her horse heaved a sigh along with her. It was only then that sleep caught up with her, as if she had somehow left it behind in the desert. Her eyelids fell forwards almost there and then, the horse's head mimicking her. It refused to carry its rider any further before it had some rest, and the tug on the reigns jerked Zelda back into consciousness. She slid off the saddle lethargically, and for a moment leaned against the panting neck of her companion.

With Twinrova nowhere in sight, Zelda continued on foot for much of the way across the remaining wasteland. Clouds began to swell in the sky, and before long rain pelted down onto the thirsty earth. It washed over the princess in a welcoming embrace of Hyrule's cool freshness. She realised that the desert was now over, that that small section of her life had finished. It was time to resume her life as a member of the Royal Family, not a Gerudo.

But as she walked on she found red water flowing over her skin. It ran over her face and dripped from her nose, and Zelda wiped her hand across her face in fright, anxious to find the cause of this mysterious water. Her first thought was that somehow she had cut herself, but as she swiped her hand back into her hair, her fingers the source. The red berries and scarlet powder that Nabooru had rubbed into her blonde tresses was slowly being washed away. With a smile, Zelda untied her tight ponytail and let her hair fall down her back. She was herself again.

The forest now stood before her tall and grand, just as the stories foretold. She had never been this far south of Hyrule, and the ancient trees certainly lived up to their name. But all of a sudden, Zelda felt as though she was being watched. She glanced behind her, and upon seeing an empty sky she entered into the sheltered dimness of the forest, leaving the rising sun behind.

Until now, Zelda had not quite appreciated the truthfulness of the myths she had heard. The trees were indeed so close together that she could only just manoeuvre herself through the gaps, let alone her horse. But she pulled him through nonetheless, always keeping a watchful eyes cast up at the canopies. At one point she was certain she had heard the light pattering of footsteps, but it had been so soft and deft that it could have easily been mistaken for something else.

And then she saw it, a small, pale ghost-like figure leaping in and out of the trees. It startled her for a second, but then she remembered the other part of the legend. Zelda was one of the few people who knew the truth about the Kokiri. Link had told her all about his life in the forest, and when the child had settled down, Zelda called softly to it.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

Immediately it froze in its tracks, and shyly stepped forward from out of the shrubbery. Mido looked upon the stranger with dismay. It was an outsider; it would bring suffering and pain to the forest again if he rescued this strange woman. Deep in his mind he knew that he wanted drive his trustworthy sword into her neck and save himself or any other of his brethren from any harm. Outsiders couldn't be trusted, not matter what they said.

But the message that Saria's spirit had given him compelled him to walk out into the light and take the lady's hand, and together they walked into the heart of the remaining woods back to the new Kokiri Village.

AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed:D

serenitythefaierikin: I promise that I'll never forget this story. So don't worry :D. And I'm so glad that you liked the last chapter. I was afraid that all those emotions would come across as unconvincing.

Forlorn Rain: Thanks :D. I wanted to give Ganondorf a little bit of history, so I'm glad you liked it. I'm going to enjoy writing the bit where they all meet. Yay for huge confrontations >D

Hououza: Yup, the tension is rising, and it won't stop:D

Vladimir the Hamster: That's right. Ganondorfand Twinrova arehated by the Gerudos. Thanks for reviewing!

TheWhiteRose: I'm so glad to see a new reader:) Thank you so much for taking the time to reading all of this in such short a time! I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last ones. And don't worry, I will definitely finish this, and I can't wait to write the end. I promise it will be exciting:D

Monkey of Doom: Thank you:D I hope you keep reading!