AN: REVIEWS! I gasped with delight when I saw those review alerts, once it registered what they meant. I'm sorry about the confusion in the last chapter. I was hoping the italics would show up but, well, they didn't. I'll be altering that chapter in the future. And now, without further ado, the second chapter!

Did I forget my disclaimer last time? I think I did. I don't own Zelda and I won't make any money off of this. Wouldn't you feel terrible if you sued a poor little girl for having a little fun with her obsession?

Ganondorf's Theme

Click. Elizabeth's eyes flew open. Beep, beep, beep, beep... As quickly as she could, she rolled over the guard rail on her bunk, dropped to the ground, stepped over to her alarm – and smacked snooze. Quickly, so that she wouldn't lose any of her seven minutes of snoozing time, she clambered back into bed, rearranged her very messy bedclothes so that she could lie down comfortably – even her bottom sheet and mattress pad had come loose from the corners of her bed – and closed her eyes.

This pattern repeated three more times and then, at 6:28 AM, Elizabeth finally hit the little button next to snooze – which had caused her to miss the bus a couple of times due to how similar "snooze" and "sleep" were – and stayed up. Gathering her clothes and towel, she went and took her shower.

It is so nice not having my hair turn into icicles on the way to the bus stop, she reflected a little while later as she made her way down Etheridge Street. She avoided getting her hair wet in the shower if she had to go someplace shortly after taking it, but there was always a bit in back that got damp, and then got turned into icicles if it was cold enough outside. Which in winter, it often was. Elizabeth looked down the street to see if Tacarra was there -- then blinked. Who's that? she wondered. Carrie wasn't there, but someone else was: someone tall, with bright red hair and a lot of muscles. Elizabeth frowned, puzzled. Is it Chuck? she wondered, thinking of the annoying high-school boy who was always so obnoxiously loud and perverted on the bus. But no, this man (there was no way it wasn't a man) was a lot taller and broader than Chuck, and though it was hard to tell at this distance, his red hair appeared to be natural rather than the result of colored hair gel. Then he looked at her -- and she saw something else. How she could have seen it at such a distance was anyone's guess, but the man at the bus stop had yellow eyes. Bright yellow eyes, like nothing she had ever seen before, that flashed across all that sidewalk and held her, mesmerized, in place...

Unnoticed, a truck had turned the corner at the end of the street that Elizabeth had her back to just a few moments before. Now it came zooming by at a speed that was altogether unsuited to the peaceful quiet of Etheridge Street. "Whoa!" Elizabeth exclaimed, startled, as she stared after it. "Since when does anyone come down Etheridge at that speed, let alone a truck?" she wondered aloud, then shook her head. "What a moron." Remembering the red-haired man, she looked back down the street -- but he was gone. Carrie was just turning the corner. Elizabeth stared quizzically, wildly improbable scenarios running through her head -- then shrugged, and started heading down to the bus stop. He had probably continued on his walk, or whatever.

Walking down the street always took too long, but running was too much effort, especially with not only her backpack, but also a tote bag in one hand and her alto saxophone in the other. It made Elizabeth feel like a Clydesdale when she tried: slow, with every step jarring her up to her knees. But she did eventually reach the bus stop. "Hello," she said, waving.

"Hi!" answered the other girl, waving in return. Her dark-skinned face was as happy and energetic as ever. Her glasses and the pencils in her ponytail, combined with her overalls and mint green, moose-covered PJ shirt, created a general impression of oddness.

"Last night everything at the school was canceled," Elizabeth told her friend. "The entire building was evacuated, even the janitors. My dad thinks it was probably a bomb threat. Did you hear anything about it?"

Tacarra hadn't, so they passed the bus ride happily discussing the (nonexistent) possibility that it had not been a bomb threat, but two portals – one to Hyrule, for Elizabeth, and one to Middle Earth, for Carrie – had been discovered. Then they got to the school. Elizabeth peered at the notice on the door -- and stopped, her mouth hanging open in shocked protest.

"I missed Drama Club!" she screeched. It was true. In spite of the evacuation, the drama club rehearsal scheduled for the night before had taken place down the hill at the high school. "I knew I should have checked the door anyway!"

The morning passed as school days usually do: in monotony. Tech. Ed. followed by math – taught by a teacher no one liked or respected – followed by French (wherein the teacher babbled on about things she had already talked about), followed by Health (which was mildly interesting) followed by science, followed by Elizabeth's favorite class: band.

Lost in her own little world, she walked into the band room (which was really too small for their band) and made a beeline for her instrument slot. It wasn't until she was sitting down next to her stand partner and had begun to raise her saxophone to her lips that she looked up at where the band director usually stood -- and jerked back with surprise. Their director wasn't there today; instead, there stood the man from the bus stop earlier that day. Elizabeth wasn't sure why she was so certain of this. But who else could it be? She'd never seen anyone so tall in her life -- which, taking into account her father and his brother, was saying something. Besides, those yellow eyes were unmistakable... they bored into her soul...

A sudden, intensely sharp pain shot through her left hand, snapping her out of it. Gasping, she curled her upper body around the afflicted limb and cradled it in its fellow, aware that she was probably going to bend a lot of keys on her instrument but unable and unwilling to do anything about it.

Then came the sudden sensation of a heavy hand landing on her shoulder. Slowly the pain faded. Elizabeth opened and raised her eyes to her shoulder -- then raised them further, up one massive arm, to a muscle-bound shoulder, and finally to the face of the man from the bus stop.

"If you are done disrupting my class," he said, in a deep, powerful bass. It struck Elizabeth how unfair this comment was. It's hardly my fault I suddenly developed shooting pains in my left hand! Usually, she would have been angry, but as she looked at those burning yellow eyes, all she could feel was fear. Again she found herself bound in place, as surely as if by a chain, as the burning yellow -- somehow underscored by red -- began to fill her field of vision...

Then suddely she had the odd sensation of a warm, wise presence surrounding her and guiding her eyes up to the man's eyebrows instead. The relief was tremendous. But, No, her mind whispered. Somewhere deep down inside, Elizabeth knew that she had to pretend she was still afraid. Everything depended on it, whatever "everything" was. Carefully holding her expression of terror in place, she nodded. The substitute looked at her for a moment more, during which Elizabeth hardly dared to breathe, then moved off towards the conductor's podium.

"I am Mr. Smith," he said to the silent band, all of whom seemed as intimidated as Elizabeth felt. "I will be teaching this class for now, as your band director is... indisposed." the odd, sadistic look on his face sent chills running up Elizabeth's spine. Something about that look warned her against asking, though worry suddenly roiled in her gut. For once, she honestly didn't think her concerns were irrational. "If you will look in your folders, you will find that there is a new piece of music there. Take it out." Obediently folders around the band room opened, Elizabeth's among them. Her eyes -- sea-green today, due to a dark purple shirt -- fell on the piece Mr. Smith had mentioned -- and she gasped, shocked.

GANONDORF'S THEME, read the top of the paper, in large block letters.

Her heart pounding in sudden fear, Elizabeth looked slowly up at Mr. Smith (not that she really believed that was his name). He gazed impassively back at her. Quickly, she looked back down, not desiring in the least to be caught by those yellow eyes again.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye caught Elizabeth's attention: her standpartner was raising her hand. Alarmed, she shook her head at the other girl as hard as she could without attracting their substitute's attention, but to no avail.

"Yes?" rumbled Mr. Smith, gazing dispassionately at her.

"Umm, shouldn't we... warm up?" Kristine asked uncertainly, never confident at the best of times. Mr. Smith stared at her in silence for a moment, as Elizabeth held her breath and Kristine herself got increasingly uncomfortable.

"I would like to make one thing clear," he said at last. "While I am teaching this class, when you enter, you will get set up quickly and silently and warm up on your own. There will be no foolish noise-making, no idling, and especially," Elizabeth could see his eyes boring into KP, "no talking. You will not waste my time, and when I am ready to begin, you will be ready as well. Tardiness," now he looked at Elizabeth and she froze, though she did not look into his eyes, "will also not be tolerated." Her eyes widened. How does he know? she wondered. Elizabeth was probably the one person in the room at that moment who was most prone to lateness, but she had been on time today. How can he possibly know...? Then he looked away, and as panic faded, reality kicked in. He's a teacher. He probably looked at the attendance records or something. Without knowing why, she took for granted the fact that Mr. Smith knew her name. Why wouldn't he?

The baton came up, and they began to play. Elizabeth cringed inside at the trumpets' usual unnecessary volume. Just for today, they couldn't underplay a bit...? The baton waved in a circle, cutting them off. Elizabeth jerked away from the mouthpiece immediately, all her nerves on high alert, but the majority of the band played on heedlessly as they would have for any other director. Mr. Smith's eyes flashed with rage. Somehow he drew himself up to a greater height than should have been possible, and though the lights remained on, somehow the room seemed a little darker than before. Elizabeth's mouth went dry with terror. The band stopped playing. For a moment no one made a sound, as the room slowly went back to normal. Then, finally, Mr. Smith spoke:

"You are musicians, are you not?" He was looking at the trumpets. The rest of the band breathed a sigh of relief. "The marking on this page says piano. If you cannot follow such simple instructions," he smirked, "then feel free to leave." Suddenly, Elizabeth felt a sudden surge of hatred towards the man. She wasn't very fond of the band's immense number of trumpets herself, but something about that smirk and the way he said that struck a dischordant note in her soul.

He raised the baton again.

Ordinarily, the band let out a few minutes early to give the students time to pack their instruments. Mr. Smith was not ordinary. It was only when the bell rang that they were allowed to leave. With a sigh of relief, Elizabeth fled to her instrument slot while KP (who had her case with her) took care of the folder. With shaking fingers she slammed her saxophone into its case as fast as she could with complete disregard for the delicate nature of its keys. Shoving her instrument back into its slot, she bolted for the door.

Outside the band room, Elizabeth leaned tremblingly against the wall and reached up to wipe the sweat off her forehead, immensely glad that she had lunch next. She didn't have to rush off to any more classes.

"Elizabeth, are you okay?" KP asked, concerned. Elizabeth opened her eyes, trying to remember just when she had closed them.

"Y-yeah," Elizabeth answered, smiling weakly at the other girl. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look really pale."

"I'm fine," Elizabeth repeated. "Just... a little scared."

"Yeah, that Mr. Smith guy was kind of freaky," KP agreed. "It was kind of nice having a good rehearsal for once, though..."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Too high a price," she murmured quietly, only half knowing what she was talking about.

"Huh?" KP asked. Elizabeth blinked.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm fine. I think I'll go to lunch now. See ya!" With that, she hurried off down the hall, leaving KP and the people she'd been walking with staring after her in confusion. As she entered the last of the four lunchlines, she realized that she probably wasn't going to sleep well that night.

She was floating in an endless expanse of white, so bright she had to close her eyes against it. Somewhere far off, some sort of woodwind was playing. The melody was somber, yet beautiful, and though she felt as though she should recognize it, perhaps the mind is less apt at these things while asleep...

Elizabeth sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp, her eyes wide open. She had the unshakable feeling that something had just happened to her, something big. Momentous, even. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what it was...

Then, as she sat wondering, the alarm rang.

And for once, she got up.

A/N: Heehee, I'm evil. Adding in chapters between Earth and Hyrule that actually have useful information so that you have to read them. D Just so you know, I don't live on a street called Etheridge. I'm being careful about keeping my location a secret. :looks around suspiciously: Stay back! I'll sic the Great Invisible Purple Unicorn on you! Actually, a lot of stuff in these next however many chapters isn't exactly like how my life went back then, but I'm taking poetic license with my own past. :)