A Deku Scrub's life starts like this:

Wind will blast through the canopy of a gnarled, ancient tree. Leaves scatter. Seeds fall. Some of these begin to grow.

The earth might be loamy, or silted, or muddy. There may be rain. There may not. Years will pass.

There will be a sprout.

And that is how it starts: A sprout.

The thing is small and green, with two twiggy leaves protruding like arms, and a bulbous shape on top like an unopened flower bud. The eyes emerge first, and the little hollow fires on the side of the bud take in everything. They watch.

What do they see?

Wooden faces. Round snouts like little logs. Soft coal fires burning in sympathetic eyes. Eyes like their own. Eyes like home.

There will be tending, and fussing, and digging and watering. During this time, they will learn the names and the faces. They will learn the smells and the sounds. They will know the grove: it is their mother. It is their father. It is themselves.

Then, one day, the roots will creak and the earth will split and the sprout will stride over the soil and in its turn, tend the grove, and in its turn come back into the soil.

This is the life of a Deku Scrub.

On the Sea-Swept island of Kowla-Hina, in a hut made of fronds and sticks, high on a hill overlooking a village of similar little huts, one Deku Scrub will soon die. His eyes open. He looks to the East, to the Ocean. There is only the wall of his hut there, but beyond that, in every direction, is the ocean. He looks East.

There is no sound in the hut. The only light comes from the small fire burning at the center of the floor, its smoke streaming out the fluted top of the hut, out into the blue sky. But that is not true: there is another light, fainter and yet more pronounced; the fluorescent glow of something magical. In the old Deku Scrub's hand there is the hourglass. It is inverted, but the sand does not switch direction. It flows upward through the pinch, one tiny glowing grain at a time.

"They are coming," he tells no one. No one is around to tell.

He pushes himself up on creaky old legs of bandy wood. There was still something left to do before the end, and he intended to see it through. Then, he would plant his roots and he would rest. He would return to the grove- return home. He was Molowa of the Deku, their chief. He looked East.

Concerning the communal organization of Deku Scrubs, the best adjective that comes to mind is, 'tribal'. In every kind of forest, swamp or jungle there are Deku. Wherever plants will grow, there they are. They are the sons of Farore, the goddess of courage, the nurturer of living things. Of the golden races, they are the stewards of all things that grow out of the ground.

Each tribe takes its aspect from the trees of the region it calls home. Where there are pine forests, the Deku resemble the evergreens, and where there are willows the Deku's crowns weep with willow strands, and in the oaks hearty Deku of thick bark roam, and on the islands slim bandy Deku with rough white bark and palm frond crowns.

These were the sort of Deku who lived on the little island of Kowla-Hina, among the palm groves, a skirt of grass around the mighty volcano which the Deku call Kowlahu. It was a small island, and few knew of it, even among the Deku of the mainland. Kowla-Hina was small, true, but it was important. It was the seat of an old magic, an ancient place where the seeds of Farore fell to earth, and sacred. The Kowla-Hina Deku were its keepers, and they knew their duty. It had been passed along for generations from chief to chief. They kept Farore's temple there, which was known as the Temple of the Spirit. It stood at the foot of the volcano, its heavy stone doors shut against eternity, fraught with the big, frowning faces of guardian spirits.

These faces were all about Kowla-Hina. The Deku made totems for them, which stood about the fronts of huts, at bends in roads and under special trees of might and age. They were not the spirits, but they marked them, and honored them, and told them that the Deku knew them. In this, the Deku prospered, and Kowla-Hina was ever a place of peace.

Yet, hidden deep within the heart of the old temple there rested a note of discord, for it too was a resting place of one of the scattered shards of the Master Sword. It had been generations ago that the spirit servants of the Great Tree had come to Kowla-Hina and imparted the sword shard unto the care of the Deku tribe. With it came a dark destiny, one which needed to be kept and tended with the care of a Deku grove.

The meter of that destiny was the relic known as the Phantom Hourglass. This was the blessing and the curse of the chiefs of Kowla-Hina. It gifted them with insight and knowledge of things beyond the scope of the little island. It whispered to them of the dreams of distant Kings and cast the shadows of ancient monsters. It told them the future, and it preserved for them the past. It also did one other thing: it let them know their own death, long before it was to come…

Link stood beside Zelda and Scarlett, watching the pirate watching the faces watching them. There was a congregation of the little creatures nearly a hundred strong on the beach. Link had never seen so many Deku Scrubs in one spot before. He worried about it. The ones who lived in the forest back home were wily and mischievous, and he did not like to come across them. They were always playing pranks, and sometimes had no sense for the danger they might cause.

But, Scarlett had assured them, the Kowla-Hina Deku were much different. And something was different. The way they congregated, the way they stood and stared. There was uniformity to them, an organization, and an aura of thoughtful intelligence that Link had never seen in the creatures. As the ship drew nearer, Link saw that one of the Deku stood before the others, and over them, the tallest by far, with a great flowery pink crown sprouting from his head. He held a staff, and of all of them his gaze was the most imposing.

It was not an unfriendly look, as such, but it was stern; the look of a ruler. He was their King, Link decided.

When they were near the shore, Scarlett waved. The old Deku nodded and a few of his subjects approached the water and waded out to the shallows. Scarlett told them to get the longboat ready, and Gwen and Zig obeyed. They piled into the little boat, Link still feeling nervous.

Zelda turned to him, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he lied, "I just haven't had very good experiences with Deku Scrubs is all. Do you think Scarlett is right? Do you think we can trust them?"

"Well, I've heard of Kowla-Hina," said Zelda, "It's been a very long time since Hylians have been out this way, but generally all the stories are positive. They are known for their hospitality. Perhaps it will be alright."

There was only the sound of the waves lapping at the beach as Zig and Gwen rowed the longboat closer to the shore. Link did not, as a more experienced warrior may have done, imagine an imminent rain of spears and arrows suddenly bursting from the silent gathering on the beach. They left the longboat in the shallows, where two Deku helped to usher them ashore. They marched up the beach with Scarlett in the lead until they stood before the silent chieftain.

Scarlett met the old Scrub's eyes. She nodded slightly. The chief lifted his staff and pounded it on the sand one time. This gesture made no sound, but was accompanied by a sudden explosion of sound and activity from the Scrubs around him. They were cheering! Suddenly, the group was showered with flower petals and small seeds and leaves like confetti. Grass-skirted Deku emerged from the throng and placed ropes of flowers around their necks, much to Link's surprise. The little tree-people chittered brightly as they did this, in a manner that suggested warm welcome.

"What are they doing?" said Link, amused but still wary.

"I think they are saying hello," said Gwen out of the corner of her mouth.

The tall Scrub took a few striding steps towards Scarlett and threw its arms open for a hug. To Link's amazement, the pirate returned the gesture and the two of them embraced, laughing. When they pulled away, Scarlett kept her hands on the old Scrub's shoulders as she said,

"Molowa, you old weed, how have you been?"

"The soil is soft on my roots and the wind is in my branches," said the Scrub warmly, "My, but you have sprouted, daughter of the Shiekah. I see you finally got your wish to captain a vessel. Sunshine to you for that."

Scarlett nodded, glancing back at the old boat, "Aye, I suppose I did at that," she said, "Would you oblige myself and my meager crew and put us up for a few days? We were separated from my airship, and I will need to be sending a bird that way as soon as can be done. Wouldn't mind a dot of that sweet rum; come to it, if it pleases you."

"Fruit of my grove, fruit of yours," said Molowa, which Link took to be an agreement. Scarlett only laughed.

"My though, what a pleasure it truly is to see your old bark again," she said.

"With what sight as you have left, I would think," said Molowa, staring at Scarlett's eye patch, "But I'm sure that story is your own to keep. What's sown is sown, as we say. Only, it pleases me to see you still live and grow."

"Still living, anyway," said Scarlett.

"And please, who are these friends of yours?" At that moment, Molowa turned directly to Link. For a split second, the boy thought he could see some deep meaning that the old Scrub was trying to send to him out of those coal-fire eyes, but it passed as soon as it had come and left Link bewildered.

Scarlett turned to them and indicated Gwen and Zig first, "Gwendolin, my first mate, and surely you must remember Ziggardun."

Molowa nodded, "Sunshine to you."

"To you as well," said Zig, with a bow.

"And this is Link," said Scarlett, pointing to the boy, "A bit dim, but a fit enough crewman. Don't just gawp, boy, show some respect."

"Oh, ah!" Link was startled. He scrambled for what to do next, bowing awkwardly at Molowa, "Pleased to meet you."

"And this is…"

"I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule, and the pleasure is mine, noble chief," said Zelda, giving as best a curtsey as she could in her tattered garments, "Thank you for your gracious welcome, and sunshine to you."

"Showoff," hissed Scarlett.

"Princess!" said Molowa. He bowed reverently, "Well, what a pleasure it is! Sunshine to you as well, your grace, and long live Hyrule. Custom would have me require the royal song from you as proof of your heritage, but your acquaintance with our own ways makes me think it unlikely you are playing at your nobility. Sunshine to you indeed!"

Molowa led them up the beach, the train of sprightly Deku following behind, leaving flowers and seeds in their wake. They followed a trail between palm trees until they came to a clearing where many huts were gathered around a large pit for bonfires. Deku were already here, busy doing many things, carving and tanning and grinding fruit and pulp into a slurry. Some of them looked up at the newcomers as they passed, but their faces were not hostile or mistrusting. Some of them even waved.

They were fed and given fresh clothes made from leaves and scales and tightly woven wicker. The Deku offered them halved coconuts which contained sweet nectar which made Link feel more invigorated than he had since the morning he had awoken in Diamondhearth an age ago.

Molowa imparted upon Scarlett a wooden flask filled with some liquid which made Scarlett cough and pound her chest, and brought a rosy color into her cheeks. It seemed to cheer the pirate up, if it made her wilier. She remained as grating as ever she was.

A large seabird was brought forth, and Scarlett penned out a message to Kef on a dried palm frond using some kind of chalk pencil. The message was tied to the bird's leg before it took to the air with great beats of its white wings and disappeared over the distant Eastern horizon.

Then Molowa brought them to his hut, where they sat around a low fire which smoked gently up through the fluted roof. Above the fire, a silver hourglass was hanging and sand was flowing upside-down through its pinch.

There they sat and at last they told Molowa of the purpose of their journey.

"I'm sorry, but what you are asking is impossible," said Molowa, solemnly.

Scarlett clicked her tongue on her teeth, "That isn't what I want to hear, Molowa. You're an old friend, and a good one, make no mistake, but I didn't travel a thousand miles through hell to be snubbed. We came to visit the temple, and we won't leave until we've visited it."

"You misunderstand me," said Molowa, calmly, "I have not forbidden you to enter the temple. If it were within my power, I would happily grant you what you wish. The thing which rests within the temple is the vessel of great darkness. It brings unrest to this place, which is otherwise the very image of peace. Yet, it is beyond me. Only mother Farore can give you what you ask."

"A prayer?" said Zelda, earnestly.

"Never put any stock in gods," said Scarlett, and she spat into the fire, "In my experience, you can pray in one hand and sh-"

"A ritual," said Molowa, "A ritual most ancient and sacred, which can only be performed under specific circumstances."

"Circumstances?" said Scarlett, her eyebrow rising, "Well, when circumstances don't suit me I just change them. What are these circumstances? I'll make arrangements."

"It's not as simple as that," replied Molowa, "One cannot force fate any more than one can plug up a volcano."

"Tell me anyway."

"It is called, in our tongue, Ana'ona. It means 'the intertwining of the roots', but in the Hylian tongue we call it a Joining. It is a ceremony in which two souls, bound by fate, are joined as one in spirit before Farore. If Farore smiles on the union, then the temple will open and the Joining will be blessed upon the Altar of the Spirit."

"A marriage?" said Gwen, incredulous.

"Pity Kefforo isn't here," said Scarlett, wryly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Gwen.

Scarlett ignored her.

"Okay then," she said, "Get a couple of scrubs together who want to get hitched. You've got a whole tribe on the island. Surely there must be some young couple who could afford to push their wedding date forward a bit?"

"We Deku are not like Hylians. There is nothing reproductive about the Joining. It is a thing which only occurs when two souls are bonded by fate. A Joining cannot be forcibly arranged. Typically, a fruitful joining only occurs once in several hundred years. The last Joining here was my own, nearly two hundred years ago. Alas, my soul bond has already returned to the grove."

"That leaves us with little option," said Zig, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh, I can think of one option," Scarlett's single red eye swiveled around to Zelda. Gwen and Zig's gazes followed.

Zelda, for a moment looked confused. Then panicked. Then angry.

"What? No! No way! Absolutely not!"

"What?" said Link, clueless.

"Oh, come off it, princess. I should think you'd find this exciting," said Scarlett with a horrible smile.

Gwen beamed. Zig tilted his head with interest, "It does make sense, doesn't it?"

"Unacceptable! Preposterous!" Zelda was becoming hysterical, "There is no way. My father would kill me. Besides, I am only fourteen."

"It wouldn't be unheard of for a princess to marry so young," said Scarlett, reasonably.

"What are we talking about exactly?" said Link, ever slow to catch on.

They explained it to him.

"You mean me…" the boy said, slowly, turning the idea around in his mind, "And Zelda…"

"The boy has the long and short of it," said Scarlett, cheerfully. The pirate was making no effort to hide how thoroughly she was enjoying herself.

"You may think this is some kind of a joke," said Zelda, sharply, "But it isn't to me. If this 'Joining' is a sacred ceremony before Farore, that means it is a sacred ceremony for a Princess of Hyrule. We observe all of the goddesses, equally. Can you imagine what my father might say if I return home married."

"Look here, princess," said Scarlett, as she often did when Zelda got lippy with her, "It's either return home married or don't have a home to return to. We need that shard, and at present this is our only avenue to retrieve it. If you have any better ideas I would love to hear them."

Zelda could only frown.

"Right then," said Scarlett, "Tell us about this ritual, Molowa."

"This is most unusual," said Molowa, "But I see no reason why the young princess cannot attempt it. The proof will be in the doing, as they say."

"Who says?" said Link, still utterly bewildered.

"The two who are bound must embark on a journey. They must scale the mighty Kowlahu, to the shelf of the highest peak, near the smoking mouth of the volcano. There the bird, Roc, makes its nest. If Farore smiles on the union of they who are to be joined, then they will take a single tail feather from Roc and bring it back to the temple. Only in doing this, together, will the temple be opened for them and their union blessed on the Altar of the Spirit."

"Pluck the tail of a bird?" Scarlett laughed, "Child's play. Why, even the whelps should be able to manage that on their own."

"Roc is a fearsome and lonesome creature. It is twice the size of the mightiest bull, with talons like obsidian razors and a beak like an axe. Its scream can break the ears. Its hunger is greater than a whale's. Many have died facing it."

"Lovely," said Zelda, crossing her arms.

Scarlett smiled, "This is nothing we cannot handle. Surely you don't doubt your own skills, after all that we've been through. The two of you should make quick work of a silly bird, however big it is."

"You've gone mad," said Zelda, simply.

"I'm not entirely sure I understand," said Link, "but if Zelda has to do something dangerous I will go along with her."

"It's settled then," said Scarlett, clapping her hands.

"Very well," said Molowa, "I will show you the beginning of the path up the mountain in the morning. But, first, you should all rest. Your journey has been doubtless difficult, and weariness shows in your pale skin. Lodges are being erected for you presently. For the time being, be our guests… enjoy the peace of Kowla-Hina while you might, for that which you seek will bring you not but trouble in the future."

They sat around the big bonfire in the center of the village, watching as the Scrubs tended it and brought it to life. In the east, the sun was turning the sky electric pink, streaking brilliant oranges and purples on the long wispy clouds out over the ocean.

Link was watching the sun set when he caught sight of Zelda. She was walking on the beach, alone and barefoot. The leafy hems of the dress which the Deku had given her were dampened by the warm surf as it rolled in from the lazy ocean. She was looking East, back toward Hyrule. Link looked around at the pirates. They were talking amongst themselves; passing around Scarlett's little flask and taking deep draughts of the stinging liquid within. Link turned away from them and jogged over to Zelda, alone.

The sound of the waves was soothing. Link approached Zelda and stood beside her, saying nothing. The princess, he could see, had her eyes closed. The spray of the ocean was touching her pale cheeks… or was it tears?

"Zelda…"

"I've always wanted to see the ocean," said the girl, "Funny thing. So much of the world I always imagined, and now that I'm seeing it none of it seems to matter anymore. I have seen the secret realm of the Zoras, and the grand halls of Diamondhearth City. I have seen the ocean now. But it feels as though each new thing I look upon only withers and dies before my eyes. I feel like a poisoner, Link. I feel like a failure."

"Don't say that," said the boy, helplessly.

"The thing they want us to do tomorrow," she began, ignoring his comment, "I do not know if I can do it. I do not know if it is the right thing to do."

"I would never want you to do anything you don't want to do," said Link, "We'll just tell Scarlett no. There must be another way. We'll find it."

"No," she said sharply, turning to face him, "We must stay our course, whatever the outcome. The sword must be made whole. We must bear it back to Hyrule and face Nyarlath with it. That is the only thing we can do. I believe this."

"I thought you said…"

"We're going to fail, Link," she said, frowning deeply, "I just know it. We're going to fail, the same way we failed the Gorons and the Zora and the people of Kakariko. I have failed my people. I am not worthy to be a Princess of Hyrule."

"I don't understand, Zelda," said Link, distraught, "What has you thinking this way?"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, Link," said Zelda, "Know that I do love you. I do. I just didn't want things to be this way."

She began to sob. He stepped towards her, and she collapsed into him, burying her face against his chest. He held her as she cried and cried, saying nothing. Not knowing what to say.

Morning came suddenly and warm. The lodges prepared for them by the Deku were extravagant and comfortable compared to the metal belly of the old sailing ship. Their beds, which were of straw and leaves, felt soft as feathered mattresses. There was no time to bask in sleep though. Scarlett roused them early, and they emerged into the salty air of the tropical morning, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Molowa was waiting for them near a totem pole which marked the edge of the village nearest to the volcano. They exchanged greetings before starting the long trek to the foot of the mountain. They passed through thicker jungle, overgrown compared to the neat groves of the Deku. Sometimes Molowa would point out a totem or a tall tree and tell them a little bit about it. They all had names like Pau'Ahua and Ma'a-leki-leki, and they did things like carve seashells from deep ocean stones and paint whitewater into the waves. Link marveled at every story.

He knew that the Deku of Hyrule Forest would leave little shrines about- piles of nuts and berries on conspicuous tree stumps, or hanging effigies made from twine-bound sticks –but nothing like what the Kowla-Hina Deku did. Their carvings were artful and delicate, each crease in the frowning spirit faces cut in such a way that suggested breath and life. They were watching him, he felt.

After some time they came to a place where the path widened, and a campus of beaten down dirt, stretched between an aisle of megalithic pillars. At the far end of this clearing, set right into the face of the mountain, was a pair of massive stone doors laden with the faces of the Deku's spirit menagerie.

"The Temple of Farore," said Molowa, reverently, "The Temple of the Spirit."

"And those doors won't open unless we have this bird feather?" asked Scarlett.

"The feather is symbolic," said Molowa, "If Farore smiles on the joining the temple will open."

"I have no doubt it will," said Scarlett. She shot Zelda a malicious smile, "I've seldom seen such a sickening display as the young princess' affection for the boy."

Zelda glared. Link looked uncomfortable.

"Let's get this over with," said the princess.

Molowa signaled the pirates to wait, then he lead Zelda and Link down the aisle of pillars, towards the door of the mighty temple. They went to the side of the door, and around, to a place where rough-hewn stone steps without railings climbed steeply upward to disappear over a high ridge.

"This is the Path of the Trial," said Molowa, "It is treacherous, and not often used. There might be any manner of creatures nesting on it. Roc will not be your only worry, I fear. There is little I can offer in the way of help, but this is an old path. It's dangerous to go alone. Take this."

Molowa then produced something from the palm fronds bound around his chest and presented it to Link. It was a sword! The blade shimmered with a bronze color. It was much longer than the little blade Link carried, and had a carved hilt painted with bright reds, blues and yellows. A feather on a bauble hung from the pommel.

"It is called Pahi Kahi, which means Razor in our tongue," Molowa told him, watching as the boy admired the new sword, "It was mine when I was young. The feather hanging from the pommel is Roc's feather. It was from my own Joining. May it bring you luck."

"Thank you!" said Link, earnestly. He gave the sword a few experimental swipes before replacing it in its leafy scabbard and slinging it over his shoulder where it rested beside the short sword from the Goron Temple.

Then, Link and Zelda regarded each other. The princess was looking dour and brooding, but she turned her blue eyes on him and said, "Well, might as well get going then."

Link nodded, and they started up the narrow stairs with Zelda in the Lead. Old Molowa watched them until they were out of sight.

When Molowa returned, Scarlett and Gwen were drinking rum again, and talking about times gone by.

"I remember the village, but I've never been this close to the foot of the mountain," said Scarlett, "Mom'd never let me. Said it was dangerous. Hah."

"I remember you brought me back a seashell. I think I still have it."

"I remember," said Scarlett, wistfully, "Found it on the beach. I pocketed it when Mom wasn't looking. She never liked it when I took natural things… disrespectful, she'd say…"

"You never listened to her," said Gwen, reflectively.

Scarlett crossed her arms and seemed to seethe. Then she turned toward the temple and caught sight of Molowa.

"So, the brats are off then?"

"They have begun their journey, for better or worse," said Molowa.

"Have a little faith, you old stump," said Scarlett, "Those kids may be impertinent, but they're tough. More than a few surprises in those two. Not that I'd ever let them hear me say it."

"Let us hope so, for their sake."

They watched the temple and the mountain for a while before dispersing and returning to the village to wallow in the hot tropical sun. There was nothing else they could do. Everything was up to Link and Zelda now.

Meanwhile, out over the open ocean, someone was watching. The spyglass teetered back and forth as the woman scanned the lush skirt of the volcano until she found what she was looking for. She focused on a pair of figures which were crawling like wayward ants up a narrow stair on the face of the mountain. There was a boy and a girl, dressed in green. They were scrambling over rocks, helping each other, little by little, up the cliff side.

Someone cleared their throat. The spyglass snapped shut.

Nabooru turned to face Nyarlath.

"I do not see why we do not destroy the vile girl now!" complained the desert woman, "She is right there. One volley from the cannons would be enough to end her. Just let me give the order."

"No," said Nyarlath, "It is not the right moment."

"I agree with the Gerudo Woman," said another voice. It was a tall, slender man with cold blue skin and fins on his arms. His head was wrapped and bandaged, and an exoskeleton-like mesh of brass wound around his left shoulder. One of his eyes was scarred and milky white, and a deep gouge ran along the side of one corner of his mouth. Kelp Marshall Kato had lost much in the sacking of Zora's Domain, and he saw no reason to delay his revenge.

They were standing on the deck of an airship, all low red sails and bronzed hatches and bolts. A sleek battery of cannons protruded from the side. They were drifting in a small cloudbank, looking down on Kowla-Hina from an observation deck atop the ship. Nyarlath turned to Kato and spoke,

"It is not your call, Marshall," said Nyarlath, "Nor is it the good Amirah's. It is mine alone. Do not forget who tended your wounded, who built your fleet, and who gifted you with the power to exact your revenge on the Royal Family of Hyrule."

"I do not care!" spat Nabooru, "The bitch must die. All cannons, prepare-"

But the sentence was never finished. A black cloud descended around Nabooru's head like tangible darkness. She felt her throat closing, the pressure building behind her eyes. Her head ached as though it were going to explode. By the time Nyarlath released her, she was oxygen starved. She collapsed to her knees, panting and choking.

"I said no," Intoned Nyarlath, very concisely, "Now, I trust I won't have to belay such foolishness again. I implore you, noble Amirah, to trust in me. You will have your revenge before the end. Right now, we will let the princess do what she wills. She will bring us exactly what we need, and then we will dispose of her most prejudicially. It is only a matter… of time."

But Nabooru wasn't listening. She was still choking, nearly to the point of vomiting. Nyarlath did not care. He only watched the island, eyes glinting, and his face a mask with a wicked, wicked smile…