Something You Stole

by ChronicallyEclectic

Link's adventures through the Twilight realm had taught him to expect the unexpected. Unfortunately even that didn't prepare him for the shock of being accused of apparently stealing one of the Princess's most precious possessions! What did he steal? He doesn't know and she wont say. Romance/Drama/Humour. Cover image by Janus3003 on Deviantart

31. Horses For Courses

A.N: Hello my fantastic readers.

I really appreciate all of you who have stuck with my story despite my frankly abysmal update schedule this year – or rather complete lack of one. Unfortunately, not only has ill health continued to hound me and hold things up but my computer decided that it could do one better than my ailing body and had a complete meltdown, meaning I couldn't write at all for six weeks while the problem was found and repaired.

Anyway, I am finally back with another monster of a chapter and I very much hope you enjoy it.

As always, I'm grateful for your support, enthusiasm and feedback and hope that I can continue to earn it. One favour I would ask is to please let me know if you do happen to stumble on a tonne of errors (Spelling/grammar/missing words etc.) in this chapter. I did read through it to try and weed out such things but with the size of the chapter, I can miss things. Regardless, your feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated.

Now, enough of my waffling! time for the next thrilling instalment!

Chapter 30 – Horses For Courses

They'd passed the point of no return.

The preparations were made.

Fairclough had done an admirable presentation of the track and its dangers, without dropping so much as a solitary clue as to what those dangers were – just as Zelda had wanted.

The horses had been gathered from the stalls and now, with their riders alongside them, they waited with various degrees of impatience and "alacrity" for the answer to why they'd been lined up in the glaring sunshine in front of a crowd of crazy noisy humans. Some stood alert: their pricked ears swivelling like sentries, hooves scuffing at the grass, releasing the occasional snort from their flared nostrils and tense jaws: the quintessential signs of an anxious horse. Others greeted the cacophony of sights and sounds with the casual disinterest of a noble at the theatre – at least, from what Zelda described – more concerned with their stomachs and their peers than the colourful pageantry on stage.

Guy appeared to be handling the hubbub better than Link had expected, given the stallion's prior distress at the stables. There was a distraction this time, namely a fine black mare to their left, whom the grey stallion sought to impress with an impassioned display of lip flapping. How romantic!

Guy's heart may have been drawn left but the captor of his rider's heart stood to their right. Tending her own snow-white stallion, affectionately nicknamed Sunshine, Zelda appeared calm and collected as usual – and just as beautiful as ever in her fairy tale pink and white dress. On catching his gaze upon her, she flashed him a soft smile, which he instinctually returned. He gave thanks for the gift of being left-hand ambidextrous, without which Guy would have likely been a barrier separating them, rather than a screen to shield such "inappropriate" exchanges from prying eyes; Sunshine performing the same duty on Zelda's right. With their steads as cover, flanking them on both sides, they could converse without fear of being spied on.

Not that most of the suitors showed any real interest in doing so, preferring to continue their incessant bickering. Peaking over Guy's saddle revealed two exceptions: Tywin's fixated stare and long nose, exacerbated by a craned neck and tiptoes, met his gaze over the line of saddles and; looming behind him, leaning casually against his equally enormous stead, Sir Eddengrin Halshaw glanced across and shot him a condescending sneer. He… he could be a serious problem.

"Ahem, er your highness?" His said, voice as hushed as he could get away with among such a cacophony.

"Yes, Sir Link?" She replied plainly.

"Are you really sure it was a good idea to let Sir Halshaw join the race? Cos I can still only see a problem."

Zelda huffed but remained matter-of-fact. "Oh, believe me, I realise having him in the race is far from ideal but refusing him would have likely caused a scene and possibly scuppered our plans entirely…"

"Why? None of the suitors wanted him in the race either!" Indeed, some of them were still grumbling about it.

"That may be so but their disapproval was not enough to justify his exclusion. Not, at least, with us in the race. If it were purely suitors competing, it could be argued as a special competition exclusively among the suitors to win my favour. Our participation, however, neutered that particular argument. Besides, his participation could actually prove to be an asset."

"Huh? How so?"

"Because he has history with most of my suitors, far deeper and long-standing than your little rivalry…" He wouldn't call it little, but anyway… "He just might "deal" with some of them for us."

"Yeah, and he'll definitely try to "deal" with me!"

"My, my…" Zelda quirked a brow "Is one pompous politician's son too much for the brave hero to handle?"

"Of course not!... Well… provided he doesn't spook Guy… or knock me off. If that happens then… all bets are off. But I'm more concerned for you… what if he comes after you?"

"He wont." She dismissed with airy assuredness.

"And why not?"

"Because he will be competing to win. I will likely be behind for much of the race."

Behind! But what about all her talk of "I'll be competing too"? Was that just a bluff? He opened his mouth to question this seemingly blatant contradiction but was cut off by the blowing of a horn, signally them to all mount their steads. On hoisting himself into the saddle and glancing across to the princess, he saw a potential answer… and he was aghast at it!

"Zel… er, I mean Your Highness?! Surely you're not gonna ride side-saddle?!"

"Of course. A lady must preserve her dignity and her dress."

Several of the suitors exchanged wry smirks at this, as if to say "Women, aye!".

Link, however, found the answer far less quaint. "But what if you fall?"

"Oh, I think you will find, Sir Link, that I am gifted with exceptional balance." Zelda once again brushed off his concerns with breezy confidence.

Hmm. His gaze narrowed. Zelda's dress may not have possessed physically sleeves but his intuition was adamant her metaphorical ones were positively bursting with "ideas". The question was what were they?

Perhaps the course would give him a clue. He wracked his brains to bring forth every detail Lord Fairclough had deigned to reveal in his presentation, which mainly consisted of explaining a map. He followed it through methodically. Ok, so first after the straight charge in front of the stands it was a hard left into a long gallop up the vast tapering lawn, snaking between a series of wood poles, all the way to the tree line near the valleys end. Somewhere among that treeline, not readily visible – even with his superior vision – there was a track into the woods. The track would take them immediately across a bridge over the river and then proceed to until it almost met the steep craggy cliffs of the valley's side, as it arced very slowly and lazily back round towards the river bank, where it joined "The Great Woodland Web", the place where he – and now Halshaw too, it seems – would be expected to "dispose" of the competition. From the map, the name was quite apt, though to a war-weary warrior like Link, it took on a more macabre form of a chaotic nexus of interweaving veins and capillaries, running parallel with the river while piercing the depths of the wood. If the Great Woodland Web looked like veins and capillaries, he could only think that the cliff path – Zelda's apparent chosen route – was a giant ugly boil, protruding obnoxiously from the side of the web, as far outwards as it did forwards. And this was the route Zelda would be taking… to compete?! No! Something didn't add up, but the stubborn princess clearly wouldn't enlighten him. Grrr! How was he supposed to protect her when she didn't tell him what she was planning?

There was also the Tywin issue. Should he really be risking further antagonising the man by giving him a mud bath?!

And what of the others? There were so many variables. So many things to consider. Perhaps…

There was another blow of the horn: the signal for all the riders to get ready. The next horn blow would start the race. He needed to get his mind in gear… focus on the race… focus on the moment… but since all his time at the castle… no, since the end of the twilight invasion… he was no long sure he knew how!

He took a deep breath and tried to silence his maelstrom of thoughts. As if by magic, the spectators all fell silent too, though their intense anticipating gazes maintained the looming weight of their expectation and exhilaration.

He glanced round to his opposition, all grasping their reins and leaning forward, some in tense determination, others in anxious trepidation – not all of them were built for horse racing. Only Zelda remained stalwartly upright: regal, elegant and utterly unconcerned in her unapologetically feminine side saddle posture. Her eyes however blazed with fierce tenacity and concentration.

The horses all knew what was up, locking heads and ears forward in expectation. Some pawed the ground impatiently, others vented their frustrations with swishing tales or chewing at the bit, waiting for the off.

The sun beamed down upon them. The atmosphere was electric and yet every witness remained still and quiet.

It was a testament to this silence that Link was sure he could pick up the buzzes of every fly currently mobbing the exposed horses.

There was a flutter of feathery wings and a black bird nestled on the distant white linen of the refreshment tent. It scanned for a moment, admiring this bizarre frozen spectacle.

Then… it started to sing.

Link took another calming breath.

He took in its warbling tune…

Let it permeate his troubled mind.

Just focus on one thing.

Just…

"On your marks!"

Damn! Time to knuckle down. Horse tackle jangled, leather saddles creaked and heartbeats, both human and equine, suddenly jumped up a notch.

"Set!"

Ears twitched, haunches trembled and fetlocks cocked in anticipation. Meanwhile eyes ignored the urge to blink, some brows were mopped and he was pretty sure, somewhere among his "esteemed" competition, buttocks were being clenched at the sudden realisation that they'd bitten off more than they could chew.

Phwwwooooooo… came a long exhale…

one among many…

More hooves pawed at the ground…

Come on! what's the hold u…

TOOOOOT!

The horn blew, the crowd roared and fourteen horses set off from the starting line in a thunder of hooves and applause… thirteen of them in the right direction!

A lone mare had a rather different idea to ensure her rider crossed the finish line first. Rocking and bucking with great "enthusiasm" and trumpeting fanfare, the savvy stead reversed five steps and then, with exuberant aplomb, catapulted her passenger unceremoniously across the line – a novel approach but, sadly for her ignominious rider, not in the rule book.

As Link and the rest pulled away, they were pursued by a string of profanities, some so scandalous they'd make a soldier blush. The other suitors laughed uproariously but the hero just rolled his eyes, and he could imagine the princess doing the same. So much for the civility of nobles. Still, that was one down already and he hadn't even lifted a finger. Perhaps Zelda's plan could work after all. One down, eleven to go! But how?

Don't get carried away…

One step at a time…

Anyway, back to the race. The pace was slower than he'd expected. He, of course, had always planned to play the long game and not push too early but, much to his surprise and annoyance, it seemed everyone else had the same idea. As they turned onto the long snaking trail up the sprawling green valley, at a brisk but riskless gallop, they closed in on all sides and Link found himself swallowed up in a tight, jostling pack. All around horses panted, grass was kicked up, barbs were flung and a lot of eyes shot his way. It would seem he wasn't just the centre of the pack but also the centre of attention. The suitors had obviously marked him – being their "beloved's" chosen protector and legendary hero – as their greatest competition and this diamond formation was a strategy which was, at least in part, intended to subdue him. This wasn't an immediate problem but if they reached the bridge like this... well, things could get a little hairy. In preparation for that inevitability, he'd expected – and hoped – for a surge of adrenaline… but it didn't come.

His one ally who might have been able to aid in his escape was unfortunately reaping the rewards of her choice to ride side-saddle and, as the pack weaved its steady way up towards the speckled autumnal treeline, she fell further behind with every minute.

She was five horse lengths behind already…

How could she possibly hope to compete? True, her miraculous archery victory over Sir Cocksure had taught him to never count her out but this seemed a particularly improbable cause for her to bet on.

A loud thwack and an indignant shout brought his attention back to the pack.

"Hey, Atherton! Keep that whip to yourself!"

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. I didn't see you there."

Thwack!

"Oi! Cut it out!"

"Oopsie."

The aggrieved suitor gave a growl of frustration and peeled away from the pack. The diamond formation loosened slightly but the only space it opened up for Link brought him within striking distance of Atherton's whip. Far better to hold for another opportunity.

He craned his neck to check on his princess again.

Ten horse lengths…

They were roughly half way up the valley now. If she kept this up, she'd be almost Twenty lengths behind by the time they enter the woods. That's a lot of ground to make up.

He glanced past her and was slightly taken aback by the sheer distance they'd already covered. Their pace must be faster than he thought – that or he'd simply lost track of time. The magnificent white stone mansion now appeared as an ethereal dolls house, glowing in the afternoon rays. The stands in front reminded him of Zelda's portable writing desk, the noble boxes being the various tiny draws for nibs, pins, stamps and other nonsensical gubbins she apparently needed for writing, while the steep stands below were the sloped writing surface… well, if it were placed the wrong way up anyway. Honestly, why she would want to write on a slope, he couldn't fathom. His handwriting was bad enough on a flat surface! Why make it harder?!

His eyes went back to Zelda in her elegant but impractical side-saddle. She sure did have a habit of making things challenging for herself.

There was another commotion in the pack, this time on the opposite side.

An outraged cry of "Hey, what d'ya…" rent the air but was left unfinished as, with a crack of tearing leather, the suitor, briefly appeared, slipping back from beyond Halshaw's hulking form and then promptly sliding from view, along with his saddle. His horse was, at first, bewildered by this miraculous vanishing act but quickly decided he preferred to race without unnecessary baggage.

The rest of the pack once again demonstrated their civility by laughing uproariously at their rival's plight. Link wasn't laughing though. While the sight of the man's exit had been undeniably comical, it came with an unpleasant but not unexpected stench. He smelt a rat… a giant one! Saddle straps don't just snap without warning and Halshaw was coincidently the closest and sole witness to the events lead up, as his body – and that of his equally elephantine stead – conveniently blocked the view. Rather too convenient for such a coincidence! It was just another reason to keep an eye on the bastard.

Wait a sec… on the subject of eyes, no one seemed to have seen or noticed the gaping hole that Halshaw's little act of sabotage had opened up. Well, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and, with the mysterious entrance to the woods finally revealing itself, now was the perfect time for a break out.

Link pushed Guy into full gallop and they shot through the gap before their captors had time to comprehend the move. The instant he'd sprung from the trap, the whole pack spurred their steads into pursuit, their combined pounding hooves crescendoing into a thunderous roar dangerously close behind him, accented by the repeated ferocious cracking of whips.

For all Guy's admirable qualities and temperament however, It soon became apparent that raw speed was not one of them. This proved unfortunate, as his escape attempt had hinged on the now clearly mistaken assumption that a regimentally-bred and rigorously-trained royal stallion would be capable of matching a loosely-trained, barely tamed workhorse. Alas, Epona would surely beat Guy into a cocked hat.

That stubborn but lovable mare wasn't the only horse with superior speed, as in a matter of seconds he was flanked by Atherton to his right and Tywin to his left, the former grinning even as he thrashed his own stead mercilessly to keep pace, the latter giving Link the same disapproving glare he'd worn non-stop since agreeing to compete. It was clear both suitors held ill-intent. The question – as his eyes darted between them – was which one would make the first move?

The answer came rapidly. Swerving sharply towards him, Atherton made a vicious swipe at Guy with his whip. Link tugged the reins, veering left just in time to save his stead from the sadistic strike but almost colliding with Tywin in the process. Tywin showed unexpected horsemanship in evading before pulling close alongside, still glaring at the hero. Ever the self-righteous egotist, the duke picked now as the perfect time to lecture. "Sir Link, I have to say, I am moist disapp'inted in y'ur condict…"

THWITTTT!

Atherton attacked again…

Link lurched again…

And Tywin dodged again without skipping a single syllable of his "righteous" admonishment, though the rocky ride further jumbled his already notorious pronunciation. Words however weren't enough to truly express his disappointment and he took a hand off the reins, throwing caution to winds, just to wag a patronising finger. The insufferable prick! "… it is a moist poor rufluction on oneself to shoo up one's social bitters and espectally unconsidorat' to prosent unsolisted gifts to another genit'lman's betrothed…" Unsolicited gifts? Was he meaning the apple juice or… no, you idiot, he was clearly referring to the chocolate tart! That tart had probably received greater appreciation from the princess than all the dukes lavish luxuries he showered upon her. No wonder the man was pissed! Pissed enough to take revenge? The way he was slowly converging, it certainly looked that way. He could also sense Atherton preparing yet another attack.

"… Now, I consid'r myself a moist toilerant man and have shoon yu greet leaninantcy but even I recocknise toilerance must somet'mes be tampered with disciples…" It's tempered with discipline, you idiot!

Nevertheless, the idiot was building to something. So was Atherton. Link tightened his grip on the reins and waited. "… as such, while I would norm'lly objict to such auctions as I will now comet but in your cease…" His attack was imminent "… yu've br'ught this on yurself."

Tywin's hand shot out and snatched for Guy's reins. Atherton darted in for another savage swipe of the whip, aimed at the grey stallion's neck. Link saw both coming and, with a firm tug on the reins, Guy skidded from full gallop to almost stationery in an instant. Atherton's whip found the only thing that remained where Guy's neck had once been, namely Tywin's roving hand.

"Argh! you incontinent clust!" The duke howled.

Link smirked in smug satisfaction and spurred Guy back up to speed. That would teach them on fighting dirty! Suckers!

Then he was taught a painful lesson in getting distracted.

Thundering, earth-shaking hoofbeats rushed up from behind and Link was suddenly plunged into shadow. A steel boot was slammed viciously into Guy's haunch, so hard the stallion staggered sideways, trumpeting squeals of anguish and pain. The kick dislodged Link from the saddle. The ensuing bucking spree threw him completely. With the world suddenly spinning like a cyclone and being pelted by scuffed up turf, it was only his hero's "training" that allowed him to soften his landing.

Head still spinning even as his body came to rest on its back, he sought to recover his bearings, Halshaw's contemptible laughter ringing in his ears. There was no time for bearing recovery however, as the growing quake of the ground, shuddering right through his core, warned of imminent danger. He scrambled dizzily to his knees and immediately rolled sideways, just in the nick of time. He only narrowly avoided the pounding hooves of the main pack as they charged past, most either too invested in their own private battles to even notice him or seemingly too callous to try and avoid him.

Panting, winded and dizzy, he could only curse them under what little breath he could draw. This lack of breath however proved momentary. In a flash flood, the adrenaline he'd been missing surged through his veins and slapped his stunned senses back into shape. Disorientation banished, he dashed towards his still panicked stead and hastily attempted to calm him. With every second they weren't riding, the competition – and more importantly Zelda's plan – were slipping away. Yet he couldn't rush or force the horse's cooperation and when he caught a glimpse of Halshaw's handiwork, he couldn't blame Guy's reaction.

In the middle of the stallion's haunch was a nasty gash, not crippling or particularly deep but oozing blood and suffering nonetheless. "Cocksure, you arsehole!" he muttered darkly. Fury boiled up from his gut at the sight, yet it did not disturb the beast that slumbered there. That was a strange but welcome streak of fortune amid this mess. He needed to keep his cool, not only for himself but for Guy, as any anger would likely undo any attempts to calm the anguished animal. The question he couldn't afford to ask himself was; why the beast hadn't been stirred by such simmering rage? Being the overthinker he'd become he asked anyway but before he could even begin to ponder there came approaching hoofbeats from behind and a familiar dulcet feminine tone provided him some small solace even as it poured concern upon him.

"Link! Link! Are you alright?" Zelda asked anxiously, pulling Sunshine to a stop next to him.

How far behind was she already? She shouldn't be stopping to enquire about his health! She had set herself enough of a handicap as it was, without stopping to help her feckless idiot of a so-called hero. Summon the breath to speak, he panted "I'm fine Zelda! Guy's the one… who's been nobbled… along with your scheme… I'm sorry princess…"

"No! You do not apologise for this!" She snapped with a sudden fierceness. "This is on Halshaw, not you!"

"But…" He tried to protest. She needed to get moving if she was to have the slightest chance.

Zelda however was having none of it. "No more! Now…" She slid from her saddle to join him on the ground, much to his frustration and confusion. "… how bad are his injuries? Can he still be ridden?" She asked hurriedly as she dashed across to him. At least she seemed to understand the situation's urgency.

Still, the questions and her sudden approach threw him somewhat. "Well, er, ahem yes, but I wouldn't trust to push him to full gallop. I…"

"Very well then. You take Sunshine and I will take Guy." She stated matter-of-factly, somehow extricating Guy's reins from Link's hands before his brain had even comprehended her words… or how close she was.

"Wait, what?!"

"Link! Everything can still be salvaged but time is of the essence. I will simply say that, while you will need raw speed, I can do without. Now, no more debate. Take Sunshine and get moving. He should behave himself most amicably, but do not be afraid to be firm. Sunshine, you be on your best behaviour now for the hero."

With her orders indisputable, Link dashed across to the snow-white stallion and heaved himself into the saddle, though not without misgivings. "Ok, ahem, Sunshine, looks like it's you and me. This race is for the princess's honour so…" Said princess raised a wry chuckle. "… do your best." Even with his best, he couldn't see how they could possibly catch-up.

Zelda again had him questioning her apparent ability to read his thoughts, as she immediately offered another solution. "Oh, Link. There is a shortcut just across the bridge on the right. It runs along the riverbank…" The riverbank? But surely that's flooded? "It should be fine as it's protected by rocks…" She hesitated, suddenly reticent "… mostly…"

"Mostly?!"

Then Zelda did something that didn't help his already rushing heart. She dashed across and clutched his hand in a display of what he could only guess as fretful desperation, gazing up at him with an almost imploring look. His heart responded by jumping into his throat. "Link, this scheme is not worth your life or health and I would rather sacrifice our plans than see you put at risk. Promise me… promise me, you will not endanger yourself for any reason."

When his heart finally vacated his voice box, he replied with an undignified squeak "Only…" His voice dropped an octave and he started again "Only if you do the same."

"Of course." She smiled reassuringly. Did she just squeeze his hand again? She needed to stop doing that before his heart started getting the wrong idea... or just stopped completely.

"Ahem, well then…" he straightened up and attempted to summon forth some semblance of heroic nobility, as a hero is obligated to do departing one's fair princess. "Fare thee well princess… and good luck." he bowed his head.

"As to you, my noble hero." Zelda replied with obligatory fondness and gave him her special signature bow, with hand on heart.

…

He gazed at her.

She gazed at him.

…

Shit! He was supposed to be racing.

With a kick, he spurred Sunshine to gallop and they charged for the wood entrance, leaving Zelda behind. Though the feeling of her admiring gaze warmed his back just as much as the sun did, he had to admit he had far less faith in his ability to salvage the situation than she did. Even if the shortcut was viable, would it really be enough to put him back in the race? Not only was he severely behind but he was riding another new stead he had no experience or knowledge of. Riding was a partnership and required understanding. Did he have the skills?

He noted the decidedly wayward twitch of the stallion's ears, indicating unease, either at their unexpected alliance or Link's own apprehension. In response, he tried to bury his nerves and instead turn his attention to the track and the scenery. Trees – some hunched and gnarled like withered hands, others supple and tall with youthful exuberance – creaked and whistled in the breeze, flashing a dazzling display of green and orange, shimmering in dappled shafts of gold. The display flew past in a dizzying blur, accompanied by pounding hooves, now muffled by the rustling carpet of fallen leaves below and, just ahead, the effervescent rush of gushing water.

The path curved and the bridge came into view, the river's rush becoming a roar, announcing the presence of a waterfall. Glancing to the left as he emerged from the trees revealed it's majesty, stunning enough to almost inspire him to tug the reins back to properly take it in… but he knew that was a luxury he couldn't afford. Turning his attention to the right side of the bridge, he spied what must have been the shortcut Zelda had mentioned. The path appeared to be protected, as she'd stated, by a craggy cliff lining the high bank, however the river and the path alongside quickly arced out of sight and, while the ground was seemingly intact, the trees and foliage bordering it were wild, unkempt and launching periodic invasions along the length of the precariously narrow ledge.

He halted at a crossroads of sorts, both literal and figurative. Straight on lay relatively guaranteed safety but also almost certain failure of Zelda's scheme and, along with it, the inevitable sting of being beaten by a bunch of blaggards. To the right lay danger; uncertainty but also, glistening somewhere beyond, the possibility of glorious success… not to mention a delicious dose of revenge.

Zelda wanted him to stay safe. She made that clear with her plea… but was that just out of concern for him?! If they sacrificed their scheme, she would be subjected to almost unfathomable torment… having to spend the whole day in the presence of her insufferable suitors! And he'd be forced to watch! The thought made him sick and the disgusting image of Tywin's roving hand and Zelda's shiver of discomfort flashed before his eyes. His stomach growled but it wasn't hungry.

No! She may have made him promise but sometimes the greater good demanded breaking them, no matter how much it hurt… and he knew the knife of guilt-ridden betrayal all too well.

Decision made, he turned right and set off along the narrow rocky causeway, with all the haste he could muster, though self-doubt still gnawed at him. The trail was dangerous enough on a horse he knew and what lay beyond the bend in the river was a mystery… and even if he made it safely, would it really make a difference in the race?

Once again, he used the scenery as his comfort and path ahead as the magnet for his thoughts to fixate on. The trees rushed by in a flurry of green, orange and gold; sunlight tickling his right cheek with the occasional wayward leaf or branch scratching his left. The river gurgled and babbled below him and, on the moist breeze whipping through his hair, he picked up the smells of moss, damp ferns and the faint trace of honeysuckle. He began to calm.

Then, fast approaching round the river bend, he spied the inevitable danger to spoil his meditations; the trunk of a fallen tree straddling the river and blocking the path. A formidable obstacle but not insurmountable… provided Sunshine knew how to jump. He faltered briefly with the reins, as beyond this point there was no turning back. If Sunshine couldn't or didn't jump, it was an eight-foot drop from the cliff to the rushing river below. Did he have it in him?

Well, they were about to find out together.

He spurred Sunshine into full gallop and charged headlong towards the trunk. All or nothing!

The trunk surged up to meet them. He kicked…

and Sunshine immediately stalled to a complete stop, just shy of the woody obstruction.

Link withheld an expletive as he was nearly catapulted by the abrupt halt. What the h… Huh?!

To his astonishment, the moment the snow-white stallion had cancelled their charge, he began to do something the hero had never before witnessed a horse do… marching – not trotting… marching backwards with high exaggerated steps.

Astonishment quickly turned to exasperation as realisation hit him and he let out a groan. Of course! Sunshine was a royal parade horse. it was only natural he'd been trained in such things… but why would he think that was what Link wanted him to do? He knew from his prior experience, even before he actually got the chance to speak to Epona on his adventures; horses were smart. Sunshine could clearly see the obstacle. Surely, the stallion could figure what his rider had wanted. Then again, a royal parade horse like him would be trained to follow their rider's commands without question and be loyal to a fault.

Translation error maybe? But what was it in his handling that had signalled that particular step? What was the riding language and did it have a logic to it? He needed to figure it out sharpish or this whole shortcut endeavour would be a pointless risk.

Link cursed himself for his lack of any formal training. He'd learnt to ride largely by himself with just limited guidance from Rusl. As a result, he'd developed a rather loose and eccentric style of riding, effective but relying just as much on the trust and discretion of the horse as his own instructions. He now found himself in the ironic position of having a horse whose primary fault was being too obedient!

He shook his head but buried his frustration with a quip to ease the air. "Seriously Sunshine, after this, you and I are gonna need a chat about common sense."

Sunshine cast a bemused eye back at him and gave what he imagined to by a wry snort, still marching stridently backwards in rhythm with a non-existent drum, head held high. "Quite a proud peacock, aren't you?" the hero noted drolly.

Sunshine responded with a toss of his luxurious mane. Yeah, he knew it!

There was clearly no trouble with that language barrier. Time to see whether he could solve the other one.

By sheer happy coincidence, Sunshine's reverse marching – which showed no signs of let up without a signal from his rider – had brought them back plenty enough distance to take another shot at the blasted trunk! It would do little good though, if the two of them couldn't come to an understanding.

"Woah" he tugged the reins and the rearward march halted with abrupt precision, so abrupt that Link was shaken in his saddle. "Well, at least that worked" he muttered drolly, as he readjusted himself in the saddle.

Right, now forward, sure and steady. They had plenty of room to build up speed now. He kicked and Sunshine obliged… this time performing an extraordinary diagonal trot that almost saw them becoming intimately acquainted with a nearby berry bush – blackberry to be precise. Fortunately, it seemed the stallion possessed enough sense and preservation instinct to abandon clearly insane orders. Stopping before the bush claimed them both; he pulled back and cast a look of indignant annoyance to his rider, as if to say "what sort of order do you call that?!"

Link had no answer, at a loss as to what he'd done to communicate such an order. He gritted his teeth. Time was ticking away but frustration would only exacerbate matters and make Sunshine less cooperative. The stallion was probably already reaching the conclusion that his new master was some sort of imbecile, the sort only let out by their mothers on special occasions.

He'd best start disproving that conclusion quick or he could have a strop on his hands. Oh, what was he thinking, this wasn't Epona he was talking about… and that was the problem! Grrr. It would have been so much simpler. She'd been his faithful travelling companion since he'd first ridden… ever since he'd first ventured forth into the wider world, that then consisted of Faron Woods… since his first herded goat… since…

His eyes drifted back to the blackberry bush, which still carried a surprisingly handsome bounty considering the time of year. He inhaled, breathing deep and free; then opened all his senses and fully embraced the scents, sights and sounds of the wild. It felt like the first time in forever. Why did he do it? He couldn't say. It was just a sudden compulsion; insistent in its desire and overwhelming in its results.

His senses had always been there; if anything, his adventures had heightened them tenfold and yet since the fateful night of his first transformation, they had never simply embraced their existence – embraced the moment. When they were open, they were always anxious, frenetic… searching for something.

Yet here in this place… with these blackberries… these trees… these exuberant waters sweeping by… he was suddenly transported back to a simpler time, when Faron Wood was still the great far frontier and he would venture there, fearless and carefree with his faithful stead to forage for berries and other tasty treats. It was a recollection long buried and so foreign to the man he had become, yet it's resurrection brought with it a revelation that seemed to wash away his rampant worries and left his heart light as the blossom on the breeze.

What was he worrying about?! This was his element! He'd been wrangling horses – not just Epona, either – and traversing far more hazard terrain by hoof or foot ever since he was old enough to harness either. There was probably no other man or woman in the world more suited to the challenge, especially not a bunch of pampered, pompous peacocks!

How had he forgotten that? Had he lost himself so completely as to forget it?... Or had something driven him to bury it? Such questions momentarily threatened to dampen the sudden exhilarating glow of his heart but they were whipped away by the wind that brought with it another reassurance, namely the sound of hooves and incessant bickering that could only be his opponents; not miles ahead of him as he'd feared, but to his distant left through the trees, slowly growing louder.

He was still in the running… provided he solved his current translation issues. With his reborn confidence of youth however, solving it no longer seemed a questionable possibility but an inevitability. After all, he'd tamed the apparently tameable – to the extent a proud mare like Epona could be tamed – and trained the seemingly untrainable – though, as he'd come to realise, almost all "un-trainability" was simple stubbornness, rather than, as many claimed, the horse being "just a dumb animal". No! Horses were smart. Indeed, he'd yet to meet a horse as dumb as some of the people he'd had the misfortune of meeting.

"Cough Zelda's suitors! Cough" Chimed in his rebellious side impishly – in his own voice.

For the first time in forever, he didn't chastise it. Instead, he let a cheeky grin break out across his face and he suddenly felt giddy. The birds were tweeting cheerfully; the blossom was dancing; the sun was beaming through the trees and he was about to get some sweet, sweet revenge on Zelda's rotten suitors and then… spend the day, alone with his princess.

With such a delightful prospect within reach, he turned his attention to attaining it. First item on the agenda; understand Sunshine. It should be easy, given horses' intelligence. Sunshine had probably been telling him all the answers this whole time. He'd just been too stuck in his own head, fretting and catastrophising – if that wasn't yet a word, he'd make it one – to pick up the stallion's signals.

A little experiment proved him right. Adjusting his posture in the saddle and the alignment of his feet, with varying degrees of subtlety and practicality, he noted tell-tale responses for certain positions; shifts in the horse's stance, for which simple weight compensation could not account. The language – which he deciphered with remarkable ease – was, indeed, a combination of posture and feet alignment. It was far more rigid than the loose stance he was used to, however he could adapt and each position seemed practical and straight forward. Most importantly Sunshine's reaction to the optimal posture for jumping indicated not only understanding but eagerness too; muscles from haunch to neck tensing or quivering with anticipation, accompanied by a neigh of apparent excitement.

"Nice to see such enthusiasm, that is, if we're not getting lost in translation again."

Sunshine swung his head and eyed Link beadily. Link replied with a light scratch up the side of the Stallion's neck, which was clearly enjoyed, judging by the reaction; head and neck lolling comically but not recoiling from his hand. Yeah, he was pretty sure all horses liked a good neck scratch – Epona certainly did!

Anyway, enough of such indulgences. He had a race to win and his opponents were slowly drawing closer to the river and the start of the Great Woodland Web.

He kicked Sunshine into gallop and was immediately gripped by a burst of exhilaration as they barrelled along the narrow cliff edge. The tree trunk was approaching swiftly but it would not thwart him twice.

Link lent forwards slightly and Sunshine got the message. The trunk hurtled up and Link kicked. No stall. no hesitation. Sunshine leapt keenly and cleanly over the woody obstruction, landing with well-trained precision – and surprising lightness – on the path beyond. Without missing a hoofbeat and buzzing with mutual encouragement, they surged along the narrow causeway; the wild woodland whistling past on their left as they raced the rushing river, which lapped and laughed along beneath them on the right. Link almost felt like joining in with the water's mirthful chortling. The breeze, while already sweet and fresh, now seemed more so. The sun, which had already been beaming, now seemed almost exhibitionist in its' youthful exuberance.

The river curved gently but not enough to obscure the path ahead. Round the bend he saw another fallen tree, yet it didn't produce trepidation but anticipation. He leant forward again and sensed the stallion's muscles tense in preparation.

It was another successful jump, though the landing came with a jolt due to the uneven ground and Link had to swipe a swathe of his unruly locks out of his eyes as they charged blindly into a long straight. When his view was recovered it revealed their greatest challenge yet; the narrow path was straight but it began descending from its high rock supported cliff down to a low earth bank just above the waterline and, where it levelled out, three obstacles lay in wait; two fallen trees and, between them, a hole in the bank. There was room between each for a jump… just about.

It was enough to make even seasoned riders pale, yet he found himself smirking at the sight of it. His mind did not fall into pessimistic pondering of every potential outcome. He was not distracted by irrelevant concerns nor struck by sudden introspection. It was just him, Sunshine and a bright world of natural sensations, completely open to him. He had a goal and a destination but neither shrank his senses. He noted, with satisfaction, the sounds of his quarries steadily growing louder yet they did not occupy him at the expense of all the other sounds of nature. He finally embraced the moment.

Approaching the first trunk, he eased the pace, just enough to give them a valuable extra second of reaction time. He leant forward. Sunshine responded.

"Yah!" He accented his kick and they sailed over.

At the second jolt of Sunshine's rear hooves landing, he kicked again and they leapt over the gaping hole – carved out by the flood most likely – and once again made a clean landing.

One more to go.

The thud of hooves gaining their purchase came and he gave the signal. They took off for a third time, over the second, larger trunk – larger than he'd thought.

Sunshine's back hooves clipped briefly on its edge and Link barely avoided somersaulting from his saddle to the gushing currents below, only saved by his resolute left foot and an arm round Sunshine's neck. Any other day, he probably would have cursed or thanked the goddesses for his narrow escape but not today. In this moment; in this brief insanity of rejuvenated youth, he giggled.

Still bounding along the bank, barely slowing after such a brush with danger, his giggle grew until he could contain it no longer. He threw his head back and gave a hearty roar to the sky above. Sunshine gave a spirited whinny in reply, though whether this was of shared elation or alarm at his master's bizarre behaviour, Link couldn't tell and frankly didn't even try. As far as he was concerned, Sunshine was giving him a fanfare of encouragement.

It would have been very much needed, had he been in his right mind, as, reaching the next bend – far sharper than any of the river's previous lazy curves – they found their river bank shortcut cut short by the water's greed. The path came to an abrupt end. Fortunately, remembering the past and surrendering to the present had rendered him slightly cuckoo, with unhealthy levels of self-confidence and excitement; and there just happened to be a gap in the trees.

Without a second thought, Link spurred Sunshine into the hole and, ducking under several low branches, the duo found themselves plunged into the darkness of the wood – at least compared to the sun-drenched exterior. Their eyes adjusted quickly but, even so, they almost paid for their optimistic entry speed, narrowly avoiding a painful engagement with a thorn bush. Nevertheless, the experience did work to rein in his reckless enthusiasm… slightly.

What killed their pace more was the scene of desolation that greeted his gaze once they'd acclimatised to the gloom. Lord Fairclough had not overstated his case when he'd spoken of the wood's condition – though to call it a wood seemed to do disservice to what had clearly once been a grand majestic forest. Those glory days were now long behind it. Mighty oaks, proud birch and giant cedars were now dilapidated; some sunken, some tilted and some toppled entirely; their carcases now sprawling across the forest floor, while the lustrous, unbroken canopy they had helped maintain – likely for centuries – was now broken by more than just the fall seasons. Molten gold poured through the gaps, embalming these deceased giants in their warm glow but also illuminating the cause of all this death. Patches of ground still glistened with long stagnated flood water and the air was sufficiently humid and moist to produce steam in the sunlight. Moss and fungus clung to ever available surface. Some of the land had dried but, over much of this space, war had broken out among the shrubs and bushes which raced to occupy this rare real estate and the precious sunlight that it entailed. The place now seemed to embody disorder, decrepitude and decay; the perfect monument by which to pillory himself for his inadequacies and mistakes.

Yet his rediscovered youth dismissed this opportunity for rumination and self-flagellation as soon as the thought was presented. Instead, this superficial view of desolation was turned on its head. Rather than fixate on the corpses of the fallen, his eyes picked out new alder saplings – which loved swampy ground – shooting up in the gold-marked graves of their forebears. The tangled shrubs and bushes may have appeared to be locked in desperate battle, but within them chirped and tweeted a great many voices, not in anguish or alarm but in cheery proclamation of their home; a home born from the conflict. The floor may have been littered with decay but the air was bright with life and now, in the rays of the sun – which had long been denied – the chance for something new sprung forth. The floods had brought destruction but they had not brought about an end. The disorder was nothing more than the clash of new and old; its unkempt chaos again reminding him of his childhood frontier – Faron wood. A new equilibrium would be reached and order would return. Perhaps his childhood optimism wasn't as naïve as his "adult" mind claimed.

His heart felt light as he stirred Sunshine into a steady canter. Weaving and, in Link's case, ducking through the undergrowth, they made a beeline in the rough direction of the sound of their raucous opponents. Vines blocked pathways while soggy sumps set what they clearly thought were stealthy traps. he'd seen them all before though and treated such hazards like old chums.

"Nice try, Mr swamp, but your tricks are bog standard." He quipped with impish glee, drunk on a freedom not felt in years – freedom from concern; freedom from expectation; freedom from responsibility. Not all his brain was onboard with such terrible puns as "Bog standard" but the sun seemed to wink in approval through the canopy.

The progress was slow but they were definitely gaining, the voices of their quarry growing louder and more distinct – distinct enough for him to pick up Bastaphorn's anguished cry followed by Halshaw's callous cackle ringing through the forest. It seemed Zelda's assumption had been correct and Halshaw was indeed "disposing" of the competition for them. Still, that giant, no matter how "helpful", was due some payback. How would he accomplish this? He didn't know yet but there was no doubt in his mind that he would. He quickened the pace, the ground now being firm enough to do so.

Judging their trajectory and pace, he altered course to converge with their predicted path. In his head he started formulating methods of disposing of them, in a more discrete, less malicious way than Halshaw. The start of The Great Woodland Web was surely close at hand. His quarries were drawing near but also, from the sounds of it, so was the river – just as the map had shown – though it didn't show in the land; the treeing standing taller and prouder; the ground feeling firmer. There was however another sound that reached his ears and distracted his attention… a buzzing? It was another sound that conjured childhood memories yet he couldn't quite… ah, of course! A swarm of harlequin flies.

Better known to Ordonians as false hornets, they earned their name from the startling red and black livery they wore which, to the uneducated, is indistinguishable from the infamous blood hornet. A very effective defence mechanism... at least to the uneducated! Unlike the spiteful nightmares they mimicked however, their colours were all talk. Their "wrath" amounted to nothing more than a nuisance; an incessantly humming cloud that would envelope any creature that dared to try and steal their most precious and jealously coveted bounty: the rare and delicious fairy queen mushroom – the origin of the mushroom's moniker was a mystery lost to time.

There was nothing special or noteworthy about the false hornets' presence in this flood scarred forest – after all, mushrooms love the damp and the false hornets love mushrooms – yet something compelled him to divert from his pursuit to seek them out. He was suddenly struck with great and terrible purpose… a truly dreadful idea…

Despicable!

Diabolical!

The antithesis of everything a noble, well-mannered hero should be!

…

He really shouldn't…

Yet he didn't try to turn back. His grin was too broad and his eyes gleamed too brightly to avert such a delinquent act of terror.

How aaaawful!

How dreeaaadful!

…

How delightful!

He guided Sunshine to a glade, at the centre of which lay the grand carcass of an ancient oak and, around the base, Link spied the swarm they were after. Just visible through its swirling throng, there lounged the prized fairy queen; plain and unassuming as mushroom go. Sunshine was clearly not fooled by the harlequins threatening livery and willingly crept towards the maelstrom of insects with just a minor hint of annoyance in his twitching ears and swishing tail.

Link tugged the reins at the threshold of the humming cloud, held by momentary misgivings. It wasn't too late to stop. Then, leaping to his minds eye, came imaginings of his quarries' shocked expressions and the doubts were instantly quashed. The only question that remained was whether Sunshine's obedience would extend as far as actually entering the swarm. Last time he'd attempted this stunt, he'd been just thirteen and Epona came damn close to mutiny and, though she did begrudgingly cooperate, she made her objections abundantly clear; refusing to be ridden for the next two weeks. He smiled and shook his head wryly.

Well, here goes nothing.

He gave the order and it was accepted. They delved into the cloud and waded with small discomfort towards the target of their expedition. The precious fairy queen was about to "rescued" from her aerial admirers, as was a hero's remit.

She came into reach and her valiant "rescuer" paused to eye the swirling swarm of her unwelcome swain. The buzzing was intense and his face was brushed and batted by a barrage of offended "suitors". Undeterred by such protests, his hand crept out towards her mushroom majesty's supple stem but it stopped just shy. Timing was key. He wanted to introduce his unwitting insect insurgents into the main pack.

Pricking his ears for bickering, he quickly located them even through the buzzing. His quarries were somewhat stretched but he could hear two main groups. He didn't know the exact geography but intuition told him to wait five seconds and then start the chase. This was where round two of the race began in earnest.

Five…

Left hand tightened on the reins…

Four…

He adjusted to signal a speedy start…

Three…

The stallion responded…

Two…

Right hand squeezed royalty's stem…

One…

With a kick and simultaneous tug, the queen was freed from her confinement and they shot out of the blinding swarm like lead from a cannon, with just enough time to regain their bearings and jump an incoming log; the nearest exit from the glade. The queen's raucous suitors, angered by her departure, gave chase immediately.

At full pelt, Sunshine managed to just keep them at bay as they tore through the forest; the hero ducking low branches; the stallion dodging marsh and nettles, as they zigzagged through the undergrowth; in pursuit of – and pursued by – royal admirers.

Caught up in the thrill of the chase, with the fragrant forest air whipping through his hair, Link let loose a whoop of unfettered elation. It was followed swiftly by another as they leapt gamely over a brook; and then another springing over a sump; and before long he was hooping and hollering like a marauding madman.

Beyond a thick, sporadically-broken wall of bushes and vine curtains, some of the bickering voices faltered. He was getting close now. Zipping through a narrow gap, chased by his "merry" band, he suddenly found a strip of blinding light cutting through the trees ahead and, as soon as his eyes adapted, he spotted several silhouettes racing along it. That had to be the main track, and the eight shimmering figures swimming into focus were what was left of his prey. Halshaw had continued his "killing" spree, though he couldn't rule out Atherton claiming one with his whip, which cracked like cannon fire ricocheting off the ancient boughs.

Link picked out these two brutes among a stretched leading line, streaking ahead of a tight packed rear group, gathered in a rough diamond formation. The leaders were too far ahead for him to intercept with his current "companions" but that was of little concern. They'd get was coming to them. Focus on the moment… and the next few were guaranteed to be sweet. His eyes gleamed as they spied a certain grand duke among the trailing party. Time to introduce them to their insect cousins.

To Tywin and his band, it must have seemed like the nearby bushes had just exploded. Link erupted onto the track in a shower of leaves, twigs and manic laughter; pitched perfectly to be mistaken for panic – despite being anything but. He careened wildly across the dirt, metres ahead of his four targets, squinting in the sun and howling like a man possessed – which, in a way, he was – if one could be possessed by the recklessness of childhood.

The grand duke gave a cry of alarm but it was nothing compared to what came next. Three seconds after Link's explosive entrance, his band of buzzing brigands burst through the bushes right in front of them.

"What the?! You?! You ManiAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Tywin shrieked like a castrated cucoo, joined similarly by his peers. The screams were cut short by a chorus of sudden harsh wheezing and hacking. It was a general rule of wisdom; never enter a cloud of insects, mouth agape and screaming. More than air would be inhaled.

Link couldn't afford to stop and watch but, to get some view of the carnage, he zigzagged with alternating glances over his shoulders. The bulk of the swarm continued to pursue him but it had already achieved the desired effect. The four suitors were in complete disarray, coughing and wailing; arms and legs flailing like demented windmills, befuddling some of the flies and agitating the horses far beyond the cloud's initial appearance. He could just about make out Tywin spluttering foreign expletives among the cacophony.

The horses, some panicking, some mad, all came to the unanimous decision of deposing their hysterical masters. Tywin's stead, flanked by a buzzing cloud ahead and three manic humans behind, veered into the forest by the most immediate route available; ducking a vine curtain that swept his shrieking master from the saddle. Luckily his masters fall was broken… by a convenient patch of nettles.

Reaching a bend in the track, Link lost sight of the chaos but he could still hear it echoing through the trees. Regardless, he'd witnessed the most important and satisfying "disposal" of the four and he laughed. With his insect insurgents' duties now done, he released them from his service by flinging their precious belle back into the forest – hardly behaviour befitting a hero but surely even a queen could understand… when you gotta go, you gotta go!

He had his own princess to think of, after all. Where was she now? Was she safe?

"Of course!" dismissed youthful optimism stridently. "Don't you trust her?" He didn't dispute it.

Instead, he turned his attention to the leading column, which was just out of sight round the next bend. The sound of the river was growing again and the track was getting muddier. On rounding the corner, he found himself in a wide glade, facing a choice; six clear tracks, five dispersing roughly in the same direction straight ahead with one spearing out in the direction of the valley cliff. The start of the Great Woodland Web; no doubt about it.

His eyes had seen one rider enter the centre path and his ears told of others on both paths to the right of it. According to the map, as he recalled it, not all the paths intersected at the same points. Pick the wrong one and he may not have the chance to intercept them all within the web itself and it'd be far harder to "dispose" of them – at least with any discretion or alibi – beyond it. It was a weighty decision, upon which the fate of Zelda's scheme rested, yet deliberation wasn't an option.

The barest bones of a plan were all he had but, as his reborn optimism assured him, that was all he needed. Wasting no time, he charged off down the centre path. His plan was simple; at every subsequent fork in the track, take the right most path and drive any competitors he found that way with him.

Fortunately, it seemed all his competitors had unwittingly played right into his hands. The three paths they had taken were the most direct routes but they were also the three paths closest to the river, which bore many scars of the flood – just as Samuel had warned. Slumped trunks, sagging boughs and damp earth, churned by more than mere hoof traffic, had been clear for all with eyes to see along the right most path, yet according to his ears, two of his competitors had chosen it. They were either cocky or stupid! He could guess one of them. Perhaps these pitfalls would waylay them without his assistance.

Sunshine let out a sudden whinny and he swerved round an unexpected pitfall of his own; a gap between the two flat stone slabs of a rudimentary bridge, beneath which gushing water could be heard. Perhaps he should focus more on his own path and worry less about his opponents'. The track snaked away ahead of him and, just disappearing round the next corner, he glimpsed the glint of a shining silver stirrup and the swish of a brown tail. On rounding the bend, he got a full view of his first quarry; a doughy middle-aged man, in a blue tunic; with hair the colour of sawdust and a wheeze like he'd spent his life inhaling it. He vaguely knew him from the suitor's circle but couldn't recall his name; not that it mattered anyway.

The track curved again but he had gained sufficient ground to keep the man in his sights as they wound along the trail, barely slowing for the bends. Link had to admit, for all this man's poor health, he was racing remarkably well. Nevertheless, there was no hope of escape. Link, hero turned "suitor slayer", stalked close behind his first prey, however no ready opportunity to "pounce" presented itself yet.

A fork in the track approached and his quarry looked to be preparing to turn left. Nah ah! Not if he had anything to say about it! Link sped up and flanked him, harrying him into the right path. The man, whom he now recalled as Lord Cole – or something like that – was furious. Fury, however, was quickly replaced by consternation as he gawped at the identity his opponent.

"How dare you! You… Sir Link?! What?! How?! How di…" he did a double take gormlessly and then "Your horse?... It was grey?!"

Link almost laughed at the Lord's consternation but a better reply sprung to his lips. "I know! It's amazing what a little clean and groom can do, isn't it?"

Cole may have not grasped the joke but, from his darting eyes, his mind was clearly preoccupied. Suddenly they stopped their frenetic dance and flashed with incredulity. "What?! That's her highness's horse? How…" the track wound left and abruptly splintered; a slim deep gash carved in the earth, splitting the path in two briefly. Cole rocked unsteadily in the saddle as he served ungainly to avoid it. The parting was short and, as the ground resealed itself, the Lord came back with an accusation. "…What thievery is this? how did you get it?"

"Thievery?! On the contrary, her highness insisted I take Sunshine, and I ain't talking the weather." He knew he really should have stopped there but the exhilaration of the chase and reversion to his youth proved a greater intoxicant than Lord Halshaw's prized brandy. "She's very generous, you know." He added with mischievous gleam.

Lord Cole's face was rapidly taking on the likeness of a radish with a topee. "Huh?! What could a man, of you station of all things, do to earn such favour?!"

Link managed to halt his tongue before it crossed the point of no redemption with the a recklessly irreverent and suicidally suggestive "wouldn't you like to know" complete with goofy grin and waggling eyebrows. Instead, he went for just recklessly irreverent. "Gee, the way some people go on about it, you'd think saving the whole kingdom was a big deal!"

Cole was clearly smarting but had no reply. Not that he had time to come up with one. Before they barrelled into the next intersection, Link made a pre-emptive dodge left. Moments prior, he'd registered the sound of more hooves converging on their path from the right through the trees… punctuated by a cracking whip.

Atherton and Cole almost bounced off each other as they joined lanes and Atherton naturally responded with a swipe at his competition.

"Gah! Atherton, you fiend!"

"Pah!" Atherton spat "keep outa my way then, you old ass!"

The next fork came and they were both intent on the left way. Oh no, you don't! Link once again swerved in from the side, this time cutting diagonally across them and slowing down, effectively blockading the track.

"HUH!" Atherton exclaimed, so shocked at the hero's seemingly inexplicable materialisation that he almost ploughed straight into him. With inches to spare, the two suitors veered away into the right path. Link set off in pursuit and quickly closed the gap once more, pulling in close behind his quarries with a deliberate display of "ominous" intent. Even Atherton paled slightly as he shot another incredulous glance at Link's existence and found him practically breathing down his neck. "What the f… how did… you… you fell!?"

Link didn't dignify the man's spluttering with a response beyond giving his most ingratiating smile. Atherton's bluster and cool arrogance deserted him and the whip now cracked with desperation, as opposed to contempt for his horse, to try and escape Link's looming malevolence.

Oh, you can try all you want to escape me Atherton, but you wont! A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience at the plight of the poor horse but it was reconciled quickly with the reasoning that the whip would still have been cracking just as ferociously, regardless of his scare tactics. All that had changed was the intent behind it. Besides, Zelda's plan necessitated pressurising him and a man like Atherton deserved a little scare every now and again. Perhaps, he'd learn some humility. Ha! Some chance of that!

The track snaked more and they crept nearer to the roar of the river. Even were they deaf, the ever-sinking slump of the passing boughs, the rising aroma of dampness and the strengthening clinginess of the ground would have alerted them to that fact. Soon the intensifying mud, combined with the lopsided leviathans constricting the path, forced them to slow from breakneck gallop to a brisk canter.

Despite the slowed pace, Link continued to harry his disconcerted quarries, who decided to band together in their best united defence; which consisted entirely of limp hypocritical barbs regarding his unsporting behaviour. Ha! As if insulting a wolf's breath would stop it from snarling… not that he was literally snarling, just baring his teeth with a devious grin, which itself was an empty threat. He wouldn't follow these gentlemen's example and resort to violence.

His grin may have been figuratively toothless but the ground ahead certainly wasn't. Nature had laid a dastardly trap; a duplicitous trick, concealing danger in perceived safety. Ahead, the path was cleaved in two. The left side was solid ground but the right side was flooded. A shallow stony brook cut a swathe up the right half for about fifty yards, covered by a roof of particularly low branches; with the two sides safely separated by a thin dam of rocks… or so it appeared. Appearances however can be deceiving.

The dam… was an illusion!

The ground… was a lie!

In truth, the whole path was flooded. It was simply that only one half was honest about it. His quarries hadn't figured that out yet, and as long as he kept them pressured and distracted, it would be too late when they finally did.

"You know, Atherton. I really should thank you." Link started, oozing nauseating unctuousness.

The noble was unsurprisingly taken aback. "Huh?"

"If not for you and Sir Tywin, I wouldn't have had the chance to ride royalty." By ride royalty, he of course meant Sunshine, and there were absolutely no "accidental" innuendoes for suspicious suitors to misconstrue.

Said suitors whipped their heads round in shock and glared at him. Just the effect he wanted!

"What?! What are you blathering about?!" Atherton snapped. Then his eyes fell on Sunshine. He squinted as though that would change the picture… or the horse's identity. It took several seconds but he got there in the end. "Your horse?!..."

"It's not his horse! It's her highness's! He claims she gave it to him!" Lord Cole barked in scornful disbelief.

"Indeed, she did. Her highness is most generous." Link oozed, doing his best imitation of plummy smarmy "knob"ility. "He really is a marvellous steady…"

They were approaching the trap.

"…I'll introduce you…"

"Horses and peasants require neither introduction nor resp..."

Link feigned deafness and chattered right over his rival's line. "Sir Atherton, this is Sunshine…"

"…ect. You remember that Sir Link!"

Getting really close now.

"Sunshine, this is Siiirrr Atherton Herkle. Say hi, Sunshine."

Atherton prepared a coarse remark but was distracted by his horse abruptly slowing, Cole's horse quickly following suit. The two chivalrous nobles swiped their gazes briefly forwards yet missed the trap their trusty steads had clearly spotted. "Confound you, you dumb mule! I do not bid you to halt. Onwards! Now!" Atherton struck his poor stead who whinnied in protest. Lord Cole, was less ruthless but no less chastising.

Their steads obeyed tentatively, taking a few steps and then, with a disgusting squelch, they sank into the swamp. With the front hooves deeper than the back, they tipped forward and their noble masters tumbled head first into the claggy muck, swallowing them completely.

The stinking quagmire boiled and frothed for a moment and then they surfaced; like the legendary bog horrors of brine pass; sodden, caped in sludge and moss from head to toe and spitting venom and detritus in equal measure. It was an absurd sight to behold, eminently satisfying and undeniable amusing. Given his earlier manic laughter over practically nothing, Link fully expected to be caught in howling hysteria, yet all that came was a wry chuckle; greater mirth perhaps dampened by Atherton's stead's reaction to her master's new appearance, squealing in panic and bolting away back down the track they'd just come. It was a comical sight in itself but he hated seeing horses in distress and Atherton's had already suffered the greatest indignity of all; having that brute as a master.

The brute called after his fleeing stead. "Pfffah! Pah! Curse… Ppppah! you, you wretched… Pfff… quivering… Pfff…creature! Come back… pfffah! and help your master!" The beleaguered bog horror seethed, floundering in the waist deep mire, while his fellow compatriot seemed to be too shocked to speak. The raving and bluster continued until he spotted Link dismount. The switch in demeanour was instant. "Ah, Sir Link, nice to see there is still some chivalry…" he simpered unctuously "and that you have chosen to redeem yourself…"

Now Link supressed a true laugh. The ego! The presumption! Delivering humble pie was certainly sweet.

"… I can see you will go far in court and I can help in that… regard… my… friend…" Atherton's slimy smile, just visible through his mud face cake, quickly slackened as his flagrant brown-nosing fell on deaf ears. "Hey! Where are you going?!"

Link took Sunshine by the reins and led him to the edge of the brook. The depth and flow were fine and the stallion could fit beneath the low hanging branches. Perfect! "As much as I'd love to stay, I have a race to win. I'm sure you'll understand. After all…" Link skipped, light and sure-footed, onto the razor topped dam "… it's what you would do."

Atherton grimaced but kept his indignation from spoiling his final slimy bid. "Now, now, Sir Link, let's not be too hasty" he spoke rapidly "It's clear someone's offering you more than prestige to win this race. Whatever the prize is… I'll double it!" Wow, was the noble really that desperate?! It wasn't like the swamp was deep or inescapable? "… if you help me out and let me win, that is."

Oh, of course! Link rolled his eyes. It had been an unspoken agreement, that even Zelda herself played into, that whichever suitor won would be "owed" a day alone with "their beloved". All the more reason to get a move on and save his princess from that prospect. His ears could still picked up hooves to his right through the forest. There was still at least one more opponent to deal with and he reckoned he knew which. "Sorry, Atherton but if you want to win, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Now, don't you walk away from me sir!..."

"Sunshine, say goodbye to Sir Atherton."

"I'm warning you Link! Link! You'll regret…" Atherton blustered but Link ignored his hollow threats, turning away. With effortless balance acquired from his adventures, he bounded along the narrow rocky ledge, coaxing Sunshine along beside him with a gentle pull of the reins and a string of encouraging yips and tongue clicks. With head bowed to the sunken canopy, the stallion followed, splashing gamely through the fetlock high currents. Soon the brook returned to the forest and solid ground reclaimed the path, bringing an end to Link's circus antics; the climax being a hop from the stone "tightrope" straight into the saddle. He spared a single glance back and then, with a kick, they shot off once more along the winding path, leaving the two wallowing nobles to squabble amongst themselves.

Shouts receding behind him, Link could just about pick them out among the rustling leaves, still splashing in the swamp yet already arguing about sharing Cole's horse. And these were supposed to be the noble elites? The pillars of the kingdom?! He could find more maturity and civility at any inn in the world! Still, as the saying goes, you can either laugh or cry and in his current state he was definitely gonna take laughing. No worrying or ruminating here! He was on top of the world! Six targets down – two served with delicious slices of righteous retribution – and, from the sound of it he had just one left to "take care of". Indeed, it occurred to him that, even with Zelda still in the race – goddesses protect her – he could still honestly claim the title of "last man standing".

Now, now! he really shouldn't get too carried away. He might run the risk of actually acquiring an ego.

"Oh, don't be such a sap!" said youth.

Again, he conceded; perhaps youth had a point.

His ears pricked, alerting him to a potential danger ahead. The sound of the river, while no closer, had grown far more restless and intense, which could only mean one thing: rapids or waterfalls and you couldn't have either without a steep drop.

Sure enough, another corner passed and after what had been a very gentle descent back down the valley thus far, the path suddenly swooped sharply down towards what looked like another intersection, so low he could see over the treetops. Casting his gaze across the canopy, he could just about make out the forest's end and, beyond it, the rear of the great white mansion shining in the sun, separated by the shimmering thread that had to be the river. The end was almost in sight.

After a fugitive pause to take in the pretty view and pinpoint his final target, he committed to the descent. A long slope this steep wasn't to be taken lightly. Go too fast and even the best horse could go "one hoof over t'other" and they'd both break their necks. Nevertheless, he could hear his opponent picking up speed to his right and couldn't afford to be too far behind when their paths finally crossed, especially if it was Halshaw whom he'd be facing.

Trusting in his stead, he let Sunshine embrace the gradient, accelerating them to truly heart-pounding speeds. Almost neck and neck with their heard but unseen opponent, they flew down the slope, testing the threshold between bravery and stupidity. Link was rocked and jostled in the saddle, dancing on the edge of disaster yet only feeling elation, which cried to be unleashed. Unlike his last manic brush with danger however, he held it in, restrained not by stuffy adult inhibition but strategic purpose: to maintain the potential element of surprise – while he'd heard his opponent, it was possible his opponent was none the wiser.

The slope began to level out but he sought to maintain their gained momentum. They'd need all they had for the coming showdown. Even youthful optimism conceded that if Halshaw managed to get in front, things could get precariously tricky.

The intersection drew up fast. The path beyond seemed, at first glance, to widen but that was another of nature's tricks. There was more ground space but much round the track's perimeter was guarded by more slumped boughs. Things would be tight!

"Come on Sunshine, keep it up!" he whispered.

The intersection was mere yards away now and so was his opponent. Any second now he'd see whether it really was him!

Intuition gave a sudden cry and he yanked the reins. Their momentum died just in time. A titanic form blasted straight across their path like a battering ram. Cocksure's laughter rang out and the giant shot an ominous grin over his shoulder. "Ah, Hedgeborn! So you did get back in the race. Haha, very good."

Link spurred Sunshine into hot pursuit but he was now in the very predicament he'd hoped to avoid; playing catch up and then trying to find a way to "dispose" of his Goliathan rival. He couldn't simply beat him in the race, and not just because of Zelda's scheme; his pride wouldn't settle for such a poultry "victory" either.

The catching up part proved easier than expected, but that wasn't down to skill and it was no comfort. While it could have been the mud caping the hooves up to the gaskins, combined with his master, weighing the titanic stead down, Link's gut told him he'd only caught up so fast because Halshaw wanted him in spitting – or kicking – distance.

As he approached the giant's rear, the knight spoke again, in a manner mimicking the hero's own taunting of Atherton. "You know what, hedgeborn. I'm glad Her Highnessgot you back in the race…" Ignoring Halshaw's words and the flecks sporadically flicked from his black stead's mud matted tail, Link weighed his options. They were limited to; go left or go right. Either way he'd have sparce space passing the titanic duo without getting tangled in the treeline. Even then, passing their hulking form would be slow enough as it was and the brute would doubtless speed up, reducing it to a crawl…

And all that time he'd be vulnerable…

Trapped…

Bring it on!

He speared left and pushed Sunshine to sprint.

Halshaw didn't acknowledge the manoeuvre, instead continuing his speech. "… Though it's hard surprising she saved you…"

Link slipped into the gap, for once grateful for his short stature allowing a little extra breathing room, branches just tickling his hair.

As he expected, Halshaw sped up. "… After all, she is, as you said, very generous…"

Link sensed a coming attack…

"… with rewards…"

Any second now…

"… and punishments!"

The knight's leg shot out for Sunshine's head but it was poorly timed. They dodged easily by simply pulling back from the gap. If Halshaw really wanted to get him, he should have waited until they'd committed fully to the pass but no, the man insisted on monologues and theatrics.

Link settled to the rear once more as the self-proclaimed "tragic hero" indulged in his favourite pastime; railing against past slights and perceived hardships. "A month! A month sweeping the stables for every stool, sullage and effluent stain; subjected to the worst ridicule and humiliation known to man; forced to submit myself to the rule of my own subordinates…"

Bored of the operatic, self-indulgent pity party being extolled upon him, and noting the slowed pace, the real hero made another attempt to pass; starting with a feint to the right, before darting left once more. He made it half the length of the giant stallion before another kick, better aimed but still missing, forced his retreat.

"… and then you ruined what should have been my final days of torture, by taunting me, tricking me and giving Her Highness the excuse to damn me with an extra month… cleaning the halls and emptying the privies of the servants… of my very own maids! Can you even comprehend the insult!? The humiliation!?"

"Now, see, I think you could use some humility." Retorted Link drolly.

"So could you, oh great hero! So could you!"

Link made another attempt but this time the noble didn't let him in at all, swerving to block his path. A weaving dance quickly developed.

Left to right…

Right to left and back again…

Slow, quick…

Quick, quick, slow…

For all the hero's efforts, Halshaw's stead proved just too large and surprisingly nimble to pass. Even with optimism backing him, urgency was beginning to set in. He didn't know how far they had left to go of the web but he sensed it couldn't be too much further. Such considerations were knocked aside however when, for the second time in this race, he found himself blindsided by his "noble" rival. This time however, it wasn't a kick that sent him reeling but the apparent sincerity of a line he would have never expected to hear.

"… However, despite all you've done. I really must thank Her Highness… and you…" HUH?! "…If she hadn't "allowed" you back into this race, I may have missed Herkle screeching like a gelded cat. The sound that warmed my heart…"

"Strange… didn't know you had one!"

"Oh, I do. It only wishes to have witnessed it first-hand. It almost redeemed you… You've certainly risen in my estimations." It almost sounded like he meant it.

Gee, thanks. What had he risen too? Court jester?! "Wow! I'm flattered. You must really hate Atherton?! But why? I mean you've so much in common."

…

He blinked. He'd expected a rebuke, yet received… nothing

The giant had fallen eerily silent. Even the weaving seemed to peter out.

Was it something he'd said?

He waited…

Nothing!

Oh well, he give ano…

Link was about to try another pass when suddenly the giant turned rabid. With a howl of fury, Halshaw threw his black beast askew directly across the track in a deranged attempt to simultaneously block the path and kick Sunshine in the muzzle. The attack, while reckless and unstable, caught Link off-guard with its insanity and he was unable to capitalise on it, franticly tugging right, purely on instinct. Not a great call as it turned out.

Sunshine found the gap between the black titan and the boundary of branches, however Halshaw was already spurring the monstrous mount back into motion, immediately pulling alongside him. Without sufficient momentum to escape, hero and horse were quickly pinned between the giant duo and the encroaching treeline, their looming shadows blotting out the sun. Even as they accelerated, the titans began to tighten the vice.

Ducking slightly beneath the twisted branches scratching his crown, Link craned his neck to just about glimpse his captor's face through the canopy; iron orbs blazed in stretched sockets while fury practically foamed from sneering lips. "You compare me… to that weasel!" the giant hissed "… that philandering fraud!" Ok, clearly the comparison had cut deep! "… that haggling, hypocritical harlot! A cowardly cretin who carouses with his enemies, while making mistresses of his friends' betrothed!"

The track kinked right and, with the demented Giant still squeezing, the situation turned from bad to dire. The river was the closest it had been since leaving the shortcut and its proximity was marked in the land. The mud was a rotten enough addition but the forest had also decided to drop the ceiling on him.

A bough, broad as Halshaw's bulging biceps and hard enough to crack his skull, rushed up to greet his face. He ducked just in time. Danger seemingly past, he raised his head again, took one look and promptly planted his cheek to the saddle as another branch, even lower than the last, wooshed over, so close its rough bark snatched a dozen stray hairs from his scalp and almost claimed his upturned ear as a trophy.

He rose for another look but the forest sent fresh obstacles his way thick and fast. With face forced against his saddle, he was virtually blind and so too was Sunshine. Bowing to the sunken trees, vision probably no more than a few feet ahead of him, the stallion clearly wished to stop but Halshaw's ominous shadow drove him onward. For the first time, Sunshine showed fear, squealing plaintively for help.

Link stirred to answer the call but was swiped down by yet another branch. Damn it!

Halshaw chuckled smugly and tossed a taunt about heroism his way but he was too preoccupied with weighing his options to acknowledge the knight's words.

How was he gonna do this? He was pinned on all sides; the whole world seemingly closing around him. To any right-minded person, it would appear hopeless, yet strangely… despair was not even in a consideration. Hmm? Funny thing… all he felt was… annoyance… at Halshaw for putting him here… and that tree for taking his hair. The nerve of it! Haha. That tree needed a talking to.

Come on! He needed to be serious. He only had two options; surrender or a stunt which… No! Only one option… a stunt he'd attempted a grand total of once, at the tender age of thirteen, and almost broke his back in the process.

Bring it on!

He grinned…

Checked for the next opening…

And then sprang into action…

At the next gap between the branches, he rose and swiftly prised his feet from their stirrups. Then, as the proceeding bough approached, he leaned left and let gravity take him. Sliding sideways, he slipped beneath the gnarled limb and, just before falling, hooked himself to Sunshine's flank with one arm and one foot. The Stallion expressed confusion with a glance but fortunately didn't alter course. Phew! That was lucky. In itself!

Hanging sideways from his stead like an acrobat, Link was free to survey without the constant barrage of branches interrupting him. Now he could prepare a proper plan and salvage this…

Swish!

Something large, heavy and clunking narrowly missed his ear.

Of course! His head may no longer have the trees to worry about but it was now in range of Halshaw's boot… well almost.

The giant made another swipe with his leg but it came up inches short of its target.

"Do you mind Sir? I'm thinking here." Link quipped with mild irritation.

He may have felt like joking but the situation was still no laughing matter and his hold on both it, and his saddle, were precarious. At that moment the track decided to throw in a turn for good measure. Just perfect! He was lucky it was a gentle left hander because right, in his current position, would have proven impossible. Still, it would be tricky; too little and they'd plough into a tree; too much and they'd find Halshaw waiting for them. Link wasn't exactly ideally placed for precision riding either. With his free hand he found the reins and gave a subtle tug. They turned yet a trunk still surged towards them. He tugged some more and they dodged it by a hair.

As the corner ended, Halshaw, frustrated by his quarry's persistence, changed tactic. The giant took one hand from the reins and, leaning over, attempted to slap the dangling hero across the head. The blow missed the cranium but caught his pointy ear and Link almost lost his grip on the saddle. Damn! It sure would be handy if he could strike back… but the giant had far superior reach.

Halshaw tried again but was thwarted as a high spindly twig stabbed him firmly in the forehead, before snapping off in a shower of splinters.

"Gah!" The knight cried in pain and anger and recoiled.

Link's eyes followed the falling twig…

A brainwave! He may not have the reach unarmed but as any wild child knows… a tree makes for a fantastic armoury! And he had hundreds to choose from – he wielded sticks long before his fingers ever grasped steel.

Casting his eyes to the canopy above, he looked for an opportunity between the lower, larger, heavier boughs, to access the thinner, wieldier branches above. He spied a chance and adjusted his position.

He'd have to be lightning fast.

The opening came and in one fluid motion, he hoisted himself high, snatched for a stick and, snapping one free, dropped back down to avoid the next brutal limb. The bough did miss his head but snagged his prize, wrenching it from his grip. First his hair, now his stick!

The next attempt proved marginally more successful. He managed to keep both his head and his prize this time but on actually seeing it, it seemed hardly worth keeping; nothing more than a lanky sprig. He tossed it at his opponent, who was thoroughly bemused at his antics.

Two hundred yards and closing, came another bend, this one to the right. He needed to hurry!

"Well, you know what they say… third time's the charm!" optimism chimed in.

Ok, all or nothing!

He leapt upwards.

Sunshine wobbled.

It turned out the saying was true. Performing the manoeuvre perfectly, he retrieved a substantial stick… perhaps a bit too substantial for wielding.

"Are you ever gonna be satisfied?"

He rolled his eyes. Oh well, can't afford to be picky! Best make a stab at…

"Grrr! Oh no you don't, swine!" Halshaw, realising his quarry's plan, made a swing at the stick and snapped the end.

Cocksure! You're the swi… hang on! Link eyed the stick again… and burst out laughing. The fool had trimmed it to size; the perfect lance!

"Yes, yes it's all very ironic but time is of the essence!" Rationality sought to remind him.

Still he couldn't resist a growing giggle as he set to work with his master plan. The lance would be useless against Halshaw himself, as the man could easily block or break it. The titanic black stead, however, presented a couple of tasty targets that his master could do little to defend. The deadliest was just out of reach but the rear most was practically screaming "pick me".

Swinging his stick round, just beyond the nobleman's swatting arm, Link brought it to bear on target and attacked… with extreme nuisance.

Poke, poke, poke…

The black stallion, unaccustomed to pointy sticks prodding his buttocks, immediately lost stride, whinnying and lolloping wildly, almost unseating his rider. Halshaw tried desperately to maintain composure and the trap as he rollicked unsteadily side to side.

The right bend approached.

Poke, poke…

Hehehe…

Link kept up the assault, while marvelling at the absurdity. He certainly hadn't considered hanging sideways from Zelda's prize stallion, poking another horse in the bum with a stick among the day's events when he got up this morning!

Poke, poke, poke…

The corner was dangerously close now and he finally stopped giggling!

This was no longer funny.

"Damn you, Hedgeborn!" Halshaw begrudgingly withdrew his stead from the stick's range. The instant the path opened, Link guided Sunshine left and they burst out from under the trees into the golden light of the stallion's namesake. It was a moment of victory; relief and elation; a warm rush as his heart pounded in his ears.

Woohoo!

Yeah!

Then the turn hit them…

"Oh Crap!"

and the race ground to an abrupt…

and highly anticlimactic…

halt…

Halshaw was struggling to wrangle his wayward horse, rocking and bucking like a spring foal. Link, meanwhile, had discovered that trying to direct a horse, while simultaneously remounting it, wielding a big stick and giggling like a lunatic was perhaps bit too ambitious even for him. Somethings had to give and those proved to be the momentum and the giggles – which he still couldn't fully explain. He just felt so… alive!

Had he really regained lost youth or just lost the plot?

His next action would seem to indicate the latter, as once back in the saddle he decided to wait for his opponent to recover, arming himself with just a nonchalant smile and lance raised in peace. Such a reception clearly came as a surprise and the man's approach was cautious, yet Link could have sworn he spied a glimmer of respect in his dark eyes.

As the colossal knight's shadow loomed beside him once more, Link greeted him with an amiable chortle, spinning his lance nonchalantly in his fingers. "Wehehehell, Cocksure, that was fun!" He then cast a glance to the path ahead and sighed, almost disappointed. "… but it looks like this is the end of the road" – in more ways than one.

The giant followed his gaze, down the straight track stretching ahead of them, to where the forest melted into open meadow and beyond it, the white stone of Leguna Mansion could just be seen. The great woodland web was drawing to its end and with it; possibly his revived youth and definitely his opportunity for payback. He wasn't about to miss his last chance to embrace either. He was buzzing too much; with adrenaline, with exhilaration, with the sheer joy of living… and, yes, the thrill of revenge.

Silently they lined up on an undiscussed yet wordlessly agreed start line, both accepting the unspoken understanding that this was the final showdown.

"How unexpectedly charitable, hero…" Halshaw's tone once again came bafflingly close to sincerity. "but know that I will not extend you the same courtesy. I will win this race… by any means necessary."

"Even cheat?"

"Don't act so high and mighty. Even you did to get here…" Was he referring to here as in here in this race or his title and status? "Besides, everybody cheats. Some people are just more honest about it than others." The man's voice seemed to leak bitter resignation at the fact.

"All this, just to get back at me?"

"Pah! Do you seriously believe this is all about you?! – And cox-combs say I have an ego! No hedg… Link, you may have wronged me but you are neither the first nor the worst. This race… This race is about reputation!... Vindication!... Proving all of them wrong!"

All of them? Who was "them"?

Halshaw didn't elaborate further, simply turning back to the track and was silent for moment. Then his dark eyes shot across to his opponent. "… So… the final showdown… Sir Link... You may begin when ready." His voice was barely more than a whisper, a shock coming from a man defined by sound and fury.

Link glanced back and sized up the man's demeanour; calmer and more centred than he'd ever seen him before. Anger and bitterness still smouldered in his dark orbs but it was subdued and for the first time, he had the sense that the animosity wasn't truly for him. Was there more to Cocksure then he'd presumed, just like his father?

For the first time since those blackberries, youth could not silence the urge to ponder.

He'd fully expected him to charge off the second he'd prepared but the man seemed intent on waiting for him to open proceedings. He couldn't fathom why but somehow felt it wasn't for malicious purposes. He watched Halshaw adjust his gloves and dust himself off with an air of impatience but, nevertheless, refuse the blatant opportunity of starting first, despite all its advantages. Perhaps the glimmer he'd caught earlier really had been a grudging respect? Perhaps giving him a fair start was the closest the man could come to acknowledge it? Maybe the man just felt he owed Link for waiting and this was his repayment? Or maybe the man's intentions behind handing him the figurative starting horn weren't so innocent as he thought?

Hmmm? Pure conjecture, as was so often the case with his understanding of knight's motives, yet the uncertainty didn't seem to bother him half as much as usual. Still, hidden depths and mysterious motives didn't excuse scarring a horse!

Speaking of equines, his conjecture was ended by the restless scuffing of hooves. The two steads clearly shared Halshaw's impatience but also obvious signs of fatigue; both breathing heavily with nostrils flared, eyes and ears less alert and animated. There would be a battle – Halshaw had made that clear – however the part their steads would play remained to be seen. Both appeared tired beyond the capacity for weaving, dodging or sprinting.

Dark orbs were on him again and a manicured moustache twitched irritably. The message was received. No more postponing the inevitable. Time to win this thing! Embrace the moment once more.

He breathed deep and absorbed the sensations of the forest; the scents, the sights and the songs. It was amazing how quick it all came flooding back. This was his element! He could do this!

With a growing smile and accelerating heart, he gave Sunshine a nudge and race began. The start was sedate, neither rider willing to test their tired steads, lest they break their limits; physical or mental. The two stallions clearly tried but the quickening of the stride was sorrily lacking compared to the hastening of their pulses, or those of their riders.

Link could hear all of them along with their heavy breaths, some laboured by fatigue, others raised in anxious anticipation. Sunshine's strides were quicker but his black rival's strides were longer. Together, united in fatigue, they were apparently perfectly matched.

They went from walk to trot…

Neck and neck…

Trot to canter…

Still side by side…

Canter to… no, just canter…

As Link's ice blue orbs met Halshaw's steel grey and each came to the same inescapable conclusion. Their steads were all but spent. There was no outrunning this fight and no nifty horsemanship to fall back on. This would be fight between warriors, not riders. All their horses could offer now was retreat and retreat was as good as surrender. If Halshaw's words hadn't been clear enough his eyes left no doubt… there would be no surrender. With those certainties established only one question remained; who would make the first strike?

They stared but did not move. Link remained loose and relaxed but sensed his opponent tense. Four pounding hearts could be heard, drumming discordantly; eight weary hooves, thumping the soil; ragged breathing and nervous tail flicks… the rushing river, the Chiff-Chaff singing in the rustling trees and the natter of crickets in the brush. He could hear it all, yet it was all in focus.

A drop of sweat slid down Halshaw's cheek and Link's eyes followed. Nerves or anticipation? This fight would be swift to start, scrappy and equally swift to end.

His eyes flicked back up.

Ice blue stared and steel grey replied. They didn't blink.

…

In a flash, Halshaw swooped down and swung an open hand at Link's head. Link, aware and expecting it, ducked and countered immediately, jabbing his lance into the giant's exposed armpit. It struck true but was quickly swatted away with a grunt of irritation.

The gap closed between them and the failed backhand was followed by a boot thrust, aimed for the stomach. Link slapped down the leg with one arm and countered again with the lance, this time into the giant's kidney. This produced another grunt and another swat. The hero couldn't supress a grin of satisfaction… but what he really achieved?

The improvised lance gave the advantage of reach but what good was reach when it lacked the strength to inflict any meaningful blows? If he was to win, he needed to unhorse the giant! But how, when his only advantage was range?

Halshaw removed that one advantage with his next manoeuvre; pulling right up next to him, reaching down and shoving, seemingly with all his might. Reacting fast, Link braced himself for a battering ram. What he got instead was… a nudge. Sunshine wobbled and the hero was jostled in the saddle but it was no crippling blow.

The giant tried again, to much the same result and Link suddenly realised the ironic problem. In this scenario, Halshaw's colossal stature was more hinderance than help. His height, combined with that of his equally enormous horse, rendered him so tall he was struggling to even reach the hero's comparatively tiny frame – let alone apply any his monstrous muscles to unhorsing. Add in the angle of attack – towering directly over him – and the giant was pushing him into the saddle as much as shoving him out. The only way Halshaw would be in a position to push the diminutive hero anywhere was by widening the gap between them and then leaning over, putting himself at risk…

The hero was shaken by another shove, but it also stirred his mind. Bingo! Another brainwave. He knew a way to beat the giant that didn't involve resorting to poking out his eyes – a punishment too harsh even for a man of Halshaw's intolerable character.

Unfortunately, Halshaw had realised his mistake and found a far more effective strategy. With pushing the hero having proven a failure, the giant turned to pulling instead. Grabbing Link by the scruff of the collar before he could dodge, Halshaw began to hoist him out of his saddle.

Locking his feet defiantly into his stirrups to anchor himself, Link fought to break the knight's straggling grip, grappling with his free hand while stabbing the man's vulnerable side and armpit repeatedly with the lance. This proved futile and he was forced into a standing position, his stirrups now his last lifeline tethering him to Sunshine.

With direct assault failing and time – and breath – running out, Link changed tack. He didn't like it, but sometimes needs must and it wasn't like he was aiming to injure.

"Hey, he may even enjoy it!" chimed youth impishly.

The moment the rough stick made first contact with its target – the black beast's neck, just behind the ears – Link concluded that youth's prediction might just have been… an understatement.

Scratch, scratch, scratch…

The horse, once the mightiest of steads – and stud to all the mares – suddenly transformed into a drooling drunkard just fresh from the alehouse – Oh, if the mares could see 'im now! With head lolling and flapping lips releasing tranquil snorts and nickers – as though in some kind of trance – the stallion veered tipsily sideways.

"What?!" Pulled away by his wayward stead, Halshaw was forced to unhand his opponent and try to regain control. "Tempest! Wake, you bumbling quisby!"

Link, released from the knight's grasp, slumped back into his saddle with a gasp and adjusted his scrunched collar. The lance dropped and a few seconds late Tempest emerged from his trance, though still notably dazed.

The spell was broken… but the damage had already been down. Halshaw may have recovered control – temporarily – but with knowledge of such a crippling weakness, the fight was as good as over… and from their contrasting desperation and delight, they both knew it.

The knight had just one hope. Remove the lance from the fight! But they both knew that too.

Link smirked, eyes gleaming, though his adrenaline-soaked blood would be somewhat disappointed. So, this is how it ends; not with a bang but dreamy nickers – ok, that sounded very wrong!

"Well, Eddengrin… looks like it's over."

Halshaw mouth sneered defiantly but his eyes didn't.

"Never."

He made to lunge for the stick – brave but utterly futile. With stead still dazed, his intended lightning strike came at a speed more glacial than thunderbolt.

Scratch, scratch, scratch…

The lance was back on Tempest's neck long before Halshaw's hand could intercept and, with the stallion now drifting, deaf to all commands, he couldn't reach it or his opponent to break its spell. The man was essentially powerless; his fate in the hands of the hero!

On another day, the revelation of holding such power might have disconcerted such a humble hero… but today… today was a veerrrryy different day and he felt like a very different hero. Today he vowed to be the hero who gratefully embraced every opportunity fate generously bestowed upon him – without worrying over pesky details or doubts - and this opportunity was a gift of poetic justice.

Link eyed the treeline at the trackside and…

Oh, would you look at that!

Is that a long muddy puddle?

Oh, It is!

How dreadful!

His sly smirk grew. Halshaw may have enjoyed at the sound of his rival taking a mud bath but what about himself? In intriguing question, that proved too irresistible not to at least investigate.

To the knight's horror and impotent objection, Link began to drive him, slowly and tantalizingly, towards the trackside and the long brown smear.

"Don't you dare, Hedgeborn! Don't you dare!"

With idle threats prompting naught but mirth from the hero, Halshaw stretched again for the lance, this time at its point of contact – Tempest's neck. At full stretch, bent as far forward in the saddle as his saddle would allow, the giant's fingertips tantalizingly brushed the stick but couldn't move it.

Link watched the display with quiet satisfaction. Not long now. The trees were closing in. The ground beneath Tempest's hooves began to squelch.

In a final act of desperation, Halshaw wrenched his feet from his stirrups, flung himself forward onto his saddle horn – a rather painful experience going by his expression – and, clinging to the stallion's neck with one hand, managed to grab the lance with the other. "AHAAAAAAAA!" He roared with pained triumph.

Link, however, wasn't worried. Halshaw's triumph would be short.

The spell was broken and Tempest stirred. "Waking" to find your master in a very odd position, bellowing madly in your ear and seemingly brandishing a stick with another human attached would be trying for any animal. For the poor tired black stallion, it all proved too much. Powered by panic, Tempest discovered a second wind and bolted towards the meadow.

Link yanked the lance and Halshaw – unsaddled, off balance and screaming blue murder – came with it. There was just enough time to take in the man's face before it embedded in the ground with an ignominious splat.

How poetic!

How hilarious!

His laughter rang through the forest – and probably beyond – but mirth was soon superseded by a dazzling, dizzying concoction of pride, relief and elation; pure joy coursing through his veins like warm chocolate – or how he imagined warm chocolate anyway! It was the sweet taste of victory – unlike the brown muck Halshaw was currently sampling!

While watching his "high-and-mighty" opposition wallowing in mud and defeat provided undeniable satisfaction, it was nothing compared to the revelation of his own achievements here.

Against all the odds… everything those stinking suitors threw at him… every obstacle the forest conjured… every complication fate had sprung on him… He'd defeated them all! He'd accomplished all he set out to do, but even more shockingly, he accepted the credit for it wholeheartedly; without condition, caveat, guilt or detraction – an almost foreign feeling, but utterly intoxicating.

A dark thought intruded briefly. "So why can't you accept you hero title?"

Pah? He wasn't gonna let such pesky ponderings rain on his parade. This was a moment to celebrate and savour. He'd fought the odds and won… hang on, wasn't he missing something here?! Something important?!

Of course! This was all Zelda's scheme. This whole thing was to save her… to support her… and he'd done it! He'd saved her… politically – surely this could be classed as a political victory! And as a result, he would soon be spending time with her… alone. Perhaps, she'd reward him for his valiant efforts. But what reward could he deserve?

Suddenly, a despicable dark corner of his mind dredged up images of hot springs… ruby lips … lots of steam. Gah, not that dream again!

Still the thought of her smile had his heart singing…

Then it sank like a stone.

Saving Zelda wasn't the revelation he'd been missing!

No, it was his ears…

Tempest had fled towards the meadow. That explained one horse ahead… but why could he hear two?

The dots lined up and his victory parade was hit, not by mere by rain, but by hurricane. His broken accomplishments came crashing down on him like an avalanche.

HE'D MISSED SOMEONE!

The sun still shined yet its warmth was suddenly sucked from his body; the vibrancy of its beams sapped from his eyes.

His ears caught Halshaw calling him, but the words never reached his mortified brain as he spurred Sunshine towards the meadow in desperate but surely futile pursuit. Whoever they were, they were too far ahead and his horse was too tired to catch up.

The meadow crawled closer with excruciating apathy and he cursed himself for his blatant stupidity.

Utter idiot!

Incompetent!

He hadn't learnt his lesson from when Halshaw kicked him from Guy at the races start!

Getting distracted by satisfaction; smugness; delusions of achievement!

Again!

That would teach… him… about… pride…

Bizarrely, his senses were screaming for his attention again and with whatever message they wished to impart; hope, warmth and youth were surging back into his body.

Hang on! he knew that perfume!

He emerged into the sunbathed meadow and all was revealed. The parade was back on, given a brisk marching beat by his thumping heart.

There in the centre of the meadow was one colossal black stallion, calm and composed… a small grey stallion just visible behind him and… between their heads, whispering soft words of comfort, was the fairy-tale princess who stole his heart

Zelda… as immaculate and elegant as ever, with not so much as a hair out of place. It was almost as if she hadn't been racing at all.

She turned to him and shot a smile that nearly knocked him off his horse.

"Well hero, don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting."

Link blushed, glowing with a fire of every positive feeling imaginable, but it wasn't what held his tongue from replying. No. As usual heart was being a nuisance.

"Is it just me, or is she more beautiful than ever." swooned heart.

"Oh, give it a rest!" snapped self-respect.

"Come on, as if you can deny it!" Heart retorted.

"Ahem!" Common sense interrupted. "Aren't we missing something here?!"

"What?!"

"HOW THE HECK DID SHE BEAT US!"

That… was a good question.