Fuyuko: Squee! Another Zelda ficcie! Hopefully, it will go somewhere, since the idea hamster is actively spinning in its wheel on this plot. However, I must disappoint you all by saying there is no Link in this fic (at least we think not, right Mr. Hamster?). Anyways, on with the fic! Please R&R, I love feedback! Also, also, um, the chapter titles are all anagrams, so try to solve them and make Mr. Hamster happy. Or tell Disclaimer-Bot you hate them. He handles all legal complaints and flames.

Disclaimer-Bot: Mr. Hamster and his author chick have programmed me to tell you that they do not own The Legend of Zelda or any of its associated characters, places, or other in-story references. They have also programmed me to tell you that they do own Krin'nal. Mostly. I, Disclaimer-Bot, have 3 shares in him.

Krin'nal: WHAT!

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Anagram - Ropolgue

"I am not who I was before, and yet I am still me. My self has become jumbled." – Krin'nal

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It began a mere two months after he left without a word. It stopped for a full turn of seasons when he came back to say he was leaving for good, when he disappeared. It began again a day later.

For a while, there was talk of trying to call him back to see if he could catch it. From the underground, there was whispered a rumor that he could not and that was why he left. The people fell silent; it was not their problem. They were not attacked by it. The nobles were furious. In their rage, they scratched him from the history books that they could claw into.

It only intensified in return. Over time it joined life as normal.

This is the tale of a fall from grace, of desperation, of two sides of the same coin. This is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, exactly as it happened.

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A young boy with dark blonde hair watched a girl his own age tending a stand in the market's corner, with nonchalant eyes. She stepped away to talk to a group of customers, trying to sell one of the latest hair-care products. He stepped forward, out of the light, into the shadow of the stand. His eyes examined a jewel-encrusted jar under a glass case. His fingers skimmed the top, a slight caress, as if testing.

"That's not for sale, boy." A fat old man, the real owner of the stand, swung his bulk into view. His belt was studded with aquamarines, and layered with gold. The boy scanned its opulence distastefully.

Such greed, surely he will not miss this piece. And my client only needs to 'borrow' it anyway.

The boy took out a piece of paper.

"I told you, it's not for sale, and I'm not bargaining or taking any orders. Scram boy." The man's spittle landed on the boy's soft, sunlit, hair.

"I'm just looking, sir. Do you mind? I need to take a few notes on it for a professor at Hyrule's University. He wanted to know what it really looked like. Y'know, up close and personal."

"What? It's not some rare artifact, kid. It's only a bottle of Artellian shampoo."

The paper was joined by a stick of charcoal.

"I know that, sir. But I heard it was imported from the royal Artellian vaults…"

"How do you…? Nevermind. Listen, take your stupid notes and go away. I have lots of business to attend to. Myresa!" The girl scurried quickly over, bowing low, in apology.

"My lord? What shall I do?"

"See that this boy keeps his hands off the goods. I must attend the matters of my customers." He left, ignoring her agreement and bow. The boy smiled at her as he wrote on the piece of paper. She blushed, shyly showing a dimpled smile in return. Her embarrassed eyes shifted sideways. He took her hand in his. She closed her eyes, and giggled. His hand pressed something into hers. It pulled away. She had never seen it coming.

When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, the bottle was gone. So was the boy. The glass case remained. So did the note.

She unfolded it to her manager, crying and terrified of losing her favorite job. She did not, for on it was written the word "Anagram". Nobody could blame the girl for being roped in by it.

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Krin'nal grinned to himself as he counted the rupees he'd gotten as a reward for collecting that stupid little jar of Artellian shampoo. Robbery was just too easy. He'd perfected it without ever knowing it, but then again, he was a prodigy.

Thirteen years old, no background of any notable mention, no training, just raw skills, and I'm one of the best in the business. Why does old Getado say being a hired man is hard?

He could carry out petty shoplifting in the blink of an eye, rob a bank in under two minutes, and raid a royal storehouse in one sun's zenith.

Getado claimed it took the average robber three times as much effort, and five times as much time. Krin'nal had often wondered if it was because they made such 'careful' plans. Those never worked, and they always slowed down the process. Personally, it was easier just to let his fingers do the work.

Can't believe I charmed that girl like that. Too easy. Maybe I'll start looking for harder jobs…

Having stowed more than half of the 'gracious' reward in his safety, Krin'nal threw on the black cloak he wore to any underground spot. It covered his regular clothes well, serving doubly to hide his still young frame, giving many the perception they were seeing a short, slight man and not a young boy. His regular outfit, a black tunic and brown pants, gave away his true age too easily, and he had learned very early, that jobs did not come to those seen as children in the business. Getado often said that Krin'nal was, if nothing else, a fast learner.

In fact, there were many opinions besides old Getado's about Krin'nal's success in the business of the underground. The average Hylian on the streets said that it was his adaptability that gave him an edge, having heard gossip that he was brilliant at thinking on his feet even when staring up the length of a guard's spear. A foolish person had once declared that it was the skills of a past life that benefited his slight of hand tricks. The nobility-and his other victims-simply moaned that he was like a cockroach-hard to find and even harder to squash.

I'd tell them that my success has more to do with keeping my eyes and ears open, like the Goddesses made them to be, and using the hands they, shall we say, 'gifted' me with, more than anything else, mused Krin'nal as he loped down the alley towards the Chaste Chasm, the best bar and brothel in the underground wire, with even better whiskey and women, as he'd heard. Besides, it was almost a safe-house for the teen, since the owner had been blade pals with Getado in the Great War, and had known right away that Krin'nal was more than what met the average eye when they'd first been introduced by Getado. His long striding jog having taken him to the door of the establishment, the black cloaked youth smirked at his previous thoughts. Then again, saying that wouldn't show that I was using the brain the Golden Ladies gave me, now would it? Anyone with half a wit knows that to tell a secret is to ask to have it used against you, he reflected as he cracked open the door to the back of the Chaste Chasm's bar. Vern would yell at him, but the shock on his face was always too funny to resist.

He's yet to learn that locked doors mean nothing to me.

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"Hello, Vern. Am I old enough to sneak a drink while I'm behind the bar?" Krin'nal watched as the owner of the Chaste Chasm fell off his serving stool, dropping his pipe of Deku leaf in the process. Heh.

Hilarious.

"No, you ain't kid. Besides, even if I thought you were, which I don't, the missus would kill me. You know how she feels about teaching the youth to drink." Vern, a short man with a full head of messy cocoa colored hair, picked his pipe back up as he turned around to yell at the boy. As the owner of a very popular and very busy bar, he was often short-tempered, and seemed cranky, though his family and friends knew that he wasn't, and that he just liked the excuse to be crass with his words. The regular patrons joked that he was compensating for his build, as the man was tiny, barely standing half the height of the average Hylian man-about 6'5"-yet the owner had a stocky, big-boned build, and was swathed in muscles that popped out when he was yelling.

"And let me tell you this, punk: the next time you come in that door, I'm gonna to pull you down that hallway, and put you through seventy-two hours of straight dish-washing before I send your filthy, starving self down to my butcher friend on the corner of the back alley. If you're lucky, he'll chop you up as somebody's sausage, if not, then I'm taking you back, and you're gonna scrub everything here-and I mean all of it-with your tongue. If you're lucky, the girls' last patrons will have included someone with a disease that'll kill you. If not, then I'm gonna…ah, well, you don't care do you?" Vern shook his head, pulled a glass off the shelf and poured a shot of fire whiskey for himself. Krin'nal grinned cheekily, watching carefully as Vern lifted the glass to his lips. A little too carefully.

"Thanks, pal, I needed a drink." Krin'nal said as he raised the swiped shot to his own lips, making as if to down it all in one go. Vern's eyes bugged out, and the muscles on his body began to pop out again, before he chuckled dryly. Krin'nal grinned again and handed the glass back, still full. It was an inside joke between them, as Vern knew the kid didn't drink, claiming it was wrong for him to do so at his age. The man found it odd that a thief had morals like that, but he'd have to side with his wife that it was probably a good thing for the boy to hold to them.

Sitting down in the pair of serving stools behind the bar, Krin'nal thanked one of the girls for setting out a glass of Lon Lon for him, tipping her with the change. The pair watched as she walked away, wiping down the bar, and pushing the head of a sleeping patron off the bar. He slid to the floor, making a loud thump, and mumbling something before snoring loudly. Krin'nal sniggered.

"So, you rascal, what are you doing in my bar in the middle of the freaking afternoon?"

"You know me, Vern, I couldn't resist seeing your angry face."

"Right. Well, you saw it, now scram."

"Really? You won't miss me?"

"Not a chance in Hades."

"Ouch." There was a beat of silence, as they watched one of the girls walk by, already dressed for her work. She tweaked Krin'nal's ear as she passed. He blinked. Vern told her to leave him alone, at least until puberty. She left, saying the missus wanted to see Vern after Krin'nal stopped harassing him. "At least until puberty? Jeez, Vern, way to embarrass me. This is why none of the girls here try to give me any, you've told them all I'm too young."

"I didn't tell them, the missus did it. She thinks if you don't want to drink, you don't want to fool around either."

"Hmph. Well, I guess that's true, but, c'mon, gimme a break, I'm not a total child. I mean I've robbed three people blind in the past six days, and made the 'deliveries'. Speaking of business, hear any good jobs? I'm getting bored with the petty thieving I've had to do lately."

"Way to beat around the bush, kid. No jobs came through in your line, but I got one you might tell Getado to come look at, hired blade for a jealous noble seeking to x-off another stupid noble, for sleeping with the slut noble wife."

"Heh. Lovely. I'll tell him to run by eventually if I see him. It's not like I live in his shack anymore."

"I know. Just asking, you, kid. It's probably the least you can do, you owe him for the help." Vern watched as Krin'nal considered this, knowing the kid well enough to tell what was on surface of his mind. Even he knew not to claim the ability to know what Krin'nal was thinking deep in his head. Nobody ever knew more than the thief let them.

"I'll do it, Vern. But I don't think he'll come by tonight. He just got back, from what I heard at the Knothole last night."

Vern opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the missus. "The Knothole? What were you doing at the Knothole, child? Tain't no place for a little boy like yourself." Vern's wife, more commonly known as the missus, was a round woman, with rosy cheeks and pale chestnut hair that might have made her a beautiful girl in her day. However, time had made her into a short, round ball with a sweet face, rather than a beauty queen. Like her husband, people claimed that she acted according to how she looked, playing the role of the large, stern, yet sweet matron of Chaste Chasm just a little too well. Krin'nal seemed to shrink before the pair, knowing he'd let slip with something dangerous before the missus and knowing Vern wouldn't stand up to his wife.

Damn. I'm screwed so bad this time. It's worse than the time she thought I was deliberately burning my hands. He made the pretext of being confused, looking around the Chaste Chasm, pretending to locate what the couple was glaring at. As an observer, Krin'nal had noticed that the Chaste Chasm wasn't a bad place to look at, since it had decent light from wall sconces behind the bar and above the row of tables on the opposite wall, and a large, slow-spinning, wooden belt fan in the middle of the ceiling. There was a small stage up front, mostly for cheap music groups and rundown stand-ups, but it had a spot where a pole could be placed for one of the girls to dance on the rare unbooked night. As a thief, Krin'nal had noticed that the Chaste Chasm wasn't a bad place to steal from either, since it had no security of its own, all the liquor was in one storeroom and the bar itself, the front and back doors were the only ones that locked, and nothing was bolted down. At least, on this level. He'd never been upstairs, because the missus was horrified that he'd learn too many things he didn't need to know at 'his young, innocent, impressionable age' about the brothel life. She had her points, he thought, reflecting that she was also a little right about him burning his hands on purpose.

Alright, so maybe I was burning my hands deliberately that one time, but I didn't know the nobleman had a fire shield around his Ruby of Flames. I mean c'mon it's not like I could just leave it there, either. My employer wanted it or my head. Not exactly a great choice, there Wresta, I'll sacrifice my hands to get a stupid jewel before I'll give up my head.

"Well, child? What were you doing in the Knothole?" The missus, Wresta, hardened her gaze, as she saw him sheepishly direct his attention back to her, letting him know that his little show hadn't thrown her off his trail. Vern gave the boy a sympathetic glance, but let his wife continue chastising him. Everyone knew that Vern never stood up to her, partly because he was completely cowed by her, but also because he adored her, and would have given her anything she ever asked for, Goddesses' permission or not.

"I was listening to the gossip, I swear it, Missus Wresta."

"Were you? And what else did you hear, 'sides the fact that your pal Getado had just got back to town? Hear any rumors of how a man-a full grown man-got killed at the Knothole last week? Certainly that's a might sight worse than a boy getting broom-smacked here today." Wresta's eyes bore down on Krin'nal's skull like some kind of holy fire, as the boy himself got red in the eartips, with embarrassment. The bar was opening, patrons would be coming in soon, the girls were all on the floor, and here he was, a famed thief, getting yelled at by some middle-aged lady. In a yellow Cucco chick apron.

"I, uh, might have heard that rumor, um, once. Er, maybe a couple more times…"

"I thought so! You come on over here with me, child, we've some talking to do! Vern, hand me my little sweeper broom, would you?"

"Yes, dear," he replied, getting off the stool as she grabbed Krin'nal by the base of his ear and dragged him off to the storeroom. The young thief, tomato red and sputtering, looked at his friend helplessly, begging for mercy from the missus. "Sorry, kid, it's probably for the best that you get a whackin' from her."

Damn! I hate this! This is exactly why I'm glad I don't have any parents!

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Fuyuko: I suppose that now, since you've put up with it all chapter, would be a good time to mention that the italics is Krin'nal's personal thoughts and NO-ONE ELSE'S. Only special little Krin'nal gets the italics.

Krin'nal: Fat load of help you are. Stupid author chick. I got beaten up with a broom. By a fat old lady in a chicken apron. Humiliating.

Fuyuko: I heard that, you brat. Now get over here so I can tweak your cute little ears!

Krin'nal: NOOOoooooooo…!

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