Chapter 2
Link awoke to find himself sprawled across the floor, his shield face down on one side of him and the Master Sword, now altered by the ancient magic of the twili, on the other side. Slowly and quietly he lifted himself into a sitting position and assessed his situation and his surroundings, which were barely lit by the light from the entrance to the basement.
He remembered how the ghost warrior… or more accurately, the old hero chosen by the goddesses, had instructed him to meet him in Ordona's spring to train. So, he pushed himself up lightly and stretched, letting a yawn seep out of his mouth. Then, rubbing his eyes groggily, he bent over and picked his sword and shield up from the ground and made his way over to the ladder. He figured that a few minutes in the sun to help him wake up wasn't a bad idea, so he climbed up the long line of ladders to his bed and sat down on the edge, soaking up the rays like a sponge.
As he enjoyed the warmth though, he came to a realization. This was one of the last times he would ever see the sun, or the blue sky, or white, billowy clouds again. It was beginning to set in that all of this world's beauty would be replaced with something, in his eyes, much bleaker. He hated that thought. But did he have a choice? He was the one chosen for this. He was born for it. He could not just turn it down.
However, even with the sun shining down on him, he felt cold. Not because of what he had transformed into, but because the most important person in the world to him was not there. He felt detached ever since she left. He missed her more than he could ever miss the light world, no matter how long he would be away from it. It was worth seeing her again… Her… Midna.
After he decided that thinking about her would only hinder his abilities, he climbed back down and peeked through the door before seeing that the coast was clear. Then, like a shadow, he crept to the spring where he saw the ghost warrior. However, what he was doing was something he did not ever expect to see. He sat off to the side of the pool, his back against the natural wall. In his hands he held a small flesh colored wind instrument of some kind in the shape of a potato. He sat there playing a beautiful melody, his bony fingers reaching across the small flute to cover the holes as he played. The notes seemed like words forming a sad song that played into the infinite heavens, only to have them echo back to him. Then, somewhat abruptly, he stopped and looked up at Link. "Hello young lad, are you ready for our first day of training?"
"Of course," he said, nodding, his voice cool and calm as it always was. He was always cool and collected, ready to face whatever came at him, and so he prepared himself for their first lesson.
"I want you to close you eyes, young lad," the Hero of Old spoke. Link did what he was told, but after a few moments he began to feel ridiculous. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but the warrior beat him to it. "The world around you is alive, always making sounds in the most dead of silence; a drop of water falling from a stalactite, the wind blowing past your ears. Hear the beating of a bird's wings or the splashing of the waterfall. Limit your focus to one object and one object only and keep your eyes shut. I am going to move from the spot I am now. As I unsheathe my sword, I want you to turn in the direction you hear the noise." Link nodded in understanding and waited for the sound to emit.
He squeezed his eyes together, trying to block out the sounds of the springs and all the animals around him. There! Shortly after the old warrior spoke he heard the sound of his rough, worn sword scraping against the tainted scabbard. Focusing all of his energy on discerning its direction, he made a 180-degree turn to face the sound, or where he thought it was coming from. "Open your eyes," the warrior spoke out to him. Link did so and found the corners of his lips creasing upwards. The Old Hero was standing right before him, with his sword pointed to the ground at his side. "This is vital in fighting your enemies, Young Hero. Limiting your awareness to one sound or movement at a time can allow you to dispatch the enemy faster. Fighting is more than just seeing the blade and the target," he explained, "It involves all of your senses. I want you to try it again, but this time I will muffle the sound."
Link once again closed his eyes and waited for the scraping noise. He couldn't even predict how long he waited for the noise, and his patience was running very thin. Just when Link's mind was about to shut down for boredom a faint scraping sound entered his ear. It was far away and hard to make out the location, but he could discern that it was clearer and louder in his left ear, so he turned slightly in that direction. He made several more quick adjustments before finally stopping and opening his eyes. He found that he was close, but still about thirty degrees too far to the left. He was very disappointed when he noticed this. However, the warrior was reassuring. "Very good for a second try. Worry not about this failure, we have two weeks to perfect this. Now, we are going to go off a little bit and do something else for the rest of the day. Take your sword in hand." Link quickly brought his sword out and waited for the ghost warrior's movements. "Patience," said the Old Hero, "Relax. All I want you to do is mimic my movements."
The warrior held out both his arms as far as they stretched. He then brought them together, so he was now holding his sword with both hands. The warrior brought them up just to the right of his face as if he were about to perform a jump strike, then brought them back to the first position and held it for a few seconds. After a few moments, he did the same thing, but to the left of his face. After that, the movements they performed were indescribable. It slowly added more elements, the twirling of the blade in the hand, pseudo blocks and attacks; it looked like a river winding its way through a valley. It was practically a work of art, and they performed to their invisible audience until twilight began to descend onto the land. It would only be a matter of time before it was a permanent fixture in Link's life. And strangely, none of these movements felt odd. "This dance," said the warrior, "Has no fixed pattern or set of movements you must perform. The only thing you must master is the feeling of it coursing through your body, the way your muscles tense and relax. Your body is a tool, learn to wield it." Soon, the first star had appeared in the night sky, and they adjourned from their first session.
The warrior's final words rang in Link's mind as they walked away. "This is an exercise you must absolutely master if you wish to triumph against your foes, it is the most important skill I will teach you through our two weeks together. For if you do not master it, many innocents could very easily become casualties." Casualties? Link pondered how a simple exercise could hold the lives of many people. The warrior's words confused him. What could he possibly mean?
He looked at the sword in his hand and recalled the old words of his mentor Rusl. "The lessons I am teaching you give you power. Not magical power or power like a king or queen, but the power to decide who lives and who dies. You decide this by how skilled you become with your sword. If you use your power for good, you can help those you love see another day. However, the other side of this…" He then decided that the day was too good to be ruined by talking about dark subjects, and they finished their walk home in silence, enjoying the scenery.
He then realized what the warrior was trying to convey. The stronger he was, the better he could defend the Twili… The better he could defend Midna. Just the thought of her brought him heartache, so he tried to keep her off of his mind as he walked into his empty house. He needed time to relax, and he could learn from the warrior better if he was rested.
He decided that, even though he longed for his warm, cozy bed, the basement was where he had to stay, for now at least. If someone came in his house while he was asleep, he wouldn't want them seeing him the way he was now. At least not yet.
As he entered his house he took a good look at his sword which seemed to glow with a black light. The light was warm and inviting as opposed to peoples' natural response to darkness. He climbed down the ladder slowly and sat down, facing the moonlit hole in the ceiling, observing the pattern made by the ladder and the moon. Setting his sword down beside him, he lay on his back, placed his arm beneath his head, and did his best to fall asleep.
The memory of Midna dogged him, however, and no matter what position he was in, he could not get comfortable. Even with the fact that he would see her soon soothing him, sleep evaded him. He wanted to see her so badly. However, he knew that if he wanted to grow powerful, to defend her, he must rest. In this manner did he finally trick himself into rest as he lay staring at the black ceiling.