I just had no desire to change Zelda's words from the game at the end of this chapter... But I hope no one minds!
"What do you think of him?" Zelda asked Impa for the millionth time in the week since Link had came and went.
"I think he's a kind and polite young man," Impa replied with the same answer as always. "I think he's got what it takes to fight, if he puts his mind to it."
"I think he's rather dense," the princess stated, looking up from the music she was reading. It was a teleportation song of Camor's, one with a rhythmic, marching beat, but Zelda played it note by note, slowly. It was supposed to teleport the player to the Death Mountain Crater, but Impa was adamant about not teaching Zelda heavy magic like that. Reading music came easy to Zelda, since she had played the ocarina since a young age. However, the actual playing of the harp was much harder than she had anticipated.
"That's a new thought," Impa commented. "Dense. I think I disagree with you."
"How come?" Zelda asked.
"Something about the careful way he talks," the Sheikah shrugged, then winced. "No- that's not the right note! Honestly, have you been practicing it that way?"
Zelda glared at her nanny, and repeated it with the correct note. "Good, keep drilling that," Impa commented absent-mindedly.
"It's the way he talks that makes me think he's dense!" Zelda sighed. "But he has a sword, which means he must know at least the basics. There's hope, I guess."
"Are you sure you don't want to go to town?" Impa asked, getting frustrated with another wrong note.
"Positive. I don't want to run into Talla or anybody else!"
"You'll have to face them someday," Impa urged.
"No! I don't have to!" Zelda snapped. She strummed the melody to the Bolero of Fire so fiercely that she broke a string. "Nayru, I can't do anything right! And why can't we have a real hero? Like Camor?"
"Because Camor was an idiot who couldn't fight," Impa replied lazily. "Be careful with that harp."
"I want my own harp."
"Make it yourself."
There was a long pause. "Impa… I thought you always respected Camor," Zelda said.
"I do. He was gifted in music and sorcery. As they say, 'A talent for the harp, and the voice of an angel.' However, he shamed the Sheikahs by never picking up a weapon," the older woman fingered her dagger absent-mindedly. She scowled.
"When will Link be back?" Zelda asked eagerly, changing the subject.
"By foot, it would take a couple days to get to the Gorons, and it takes about a week to get to Zora's Domain by foot, which is where the other Stone should be," Impa calculated. "That, plus the time back, plus a day or two for any sight seeing, it should be three weeks at the very least. He's been gone for a week already, so perhaps two weeks more?"
"I hope Ganondorf doesn't try anything before then!" Zelda said grimly. "He's been acting normal around court." This was true. Ganondorf was acting the friendly advisor for her father, but she still didn't trust him.
Zelda sighed, and looked out the window timidly. It was raining. The princess ached for her friends, and she was sorry she couldn't have seen Betta, Selena, or Malon. Talla had probably poisoned their minds against her. Another question, one that had bugged her since seeing her reflection, finally exploded from her.
"Impa! You've noticed my eyes turn red sometimes, don't you?" Zelda demanded. "Camor's eyes were red, too. Does that mean anything?"
Impa blinked. "When did you notice?"
Zelda shook the question off with a flick of her hand. "Just tell me. Were Camor's eyes like mine?"
"Depends on what you mean. Camor was born with gray eyes is what I'm told… but at some point in his youth, his tribe was brutally slaughtered, and he and his sister, Swan, escaped. However, he was blinded in one eye. Since then, his eyes were red. No explanation has ever been given," Impa said. "I think you'd tell me if you were blind, but I could be wrong?"
"Nope. I can see just fine," Zelda replied. This frustrated her. There was no connection that she could see. Suddenly, the girl perked up. "What about Swan? Did she have red eyes?"
"No. Her eyes are gray," Impa replied hesitantly. She knew the next question before it was asked.
"His sister is alive!" Zelda yelped, and jumped up. "Where does she live? Would she know?"
"Swan is one of the three surviving members of the original Sheikah Council. She normally talks to nobody outside our race," Impa replied. She paused. "I've talked to her once. She is very old, even for a Sheikah, yet still full of beauty, grace, and fire."
"I don't care! I need to meet her!" Zelda whined. "If there is anyone who can answer the question about my eyes, it's her!"
"Only Sheikah may talk to her, and only for important reasons," Impa said firmly.
Zelda groaned, and threw her harp on the floor. "I have no place in the castle or in the outside world!" she said bitterly as Impa picked up the harp.
"Yes you do!" Impa replied encouragingly. "You are helping Link, and together you are stopping the clouds of war from covering the land!"
"If Link manages to get back here soon!" Zelda replied with frustration.
Where was Link now? Zelda wondered. If a week had passed, he would hopefully be on his way right now to Zora's Domain. Impa had nudged him toward Kakariko Village first, so he would have the Spiritual Stone of Fire safe in his hands by now, Zelda hoped. As for herself, she checked the Ocarina of Time several times a day.
It was a beautiful instrument, created smoothly in a lovely shade of blue, with a carving of the Triforce on it. Impa had Zelda practice the Song of Time on her own little ocarina over and over until the princess had it memorized. When the time comes, she would play it in front of the Door of Time with the Spiritual Stones in front of her.
"Zelda," Impa broke the silence. "What if Ganondorf strikes first? How will we stop him?"
"Thank you Impa, for your optimistic words," Zelda glared at her nanny.
"Optimistic or not, we cannot afford to overlook that possibility," Impa said firmly. Zelda sighed.
"I actually don't know," she confessed. Impa and the princess thought for a long moment, but it was Impa who thought of the solution first.
"Zelda… let's go to the Temple of Time. I can seal a memory within an object, and, in this case, it would probably be easier, though risky, to seal it within the Ocarina of Time," Impa said slowly. "If you play the Ocarina of Time the way you would if the Spiritual Stones were there, we can get the Ocarina to Link somehow, and he could take care of this. Once he touches the Ocarina, he would see the memory, and learn the Song of Time. He will know what to do."
"And for myself?" Zelda asked, feeling a knot of fear in her heart. This was the scarier part of her great plan.
"We can disguise you in that peasant getup until Link completes the task," Impa replied encouragingly, boosting Zelda's confidence.
"All right," Zelda replied hesitantly. "Let's go to the Temple now."
"Link? Can you hear me?" Zelda faced the empty alter. Impa worked her magic from a corner in the Temple of Time, watching Zelda's every move with intense concentration. "It's me, Zelda…"
Though Impa appeared to be in deep concentration, she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Link actually seeing this memory. That would mean that Ganondorf had already started the war.
"Link, when you hold this Ocarina in your hand… I won't be around any more…" Zelda's eyes were closed and she held the magical instrument to her chest. "I wanted to wait for you, but I couldn't delay any longer…" She swung around. "At least I could leave you the Ocarina, and this melody…"
She put the Ocarina to her lips, and played the Song of Time twice, flawlessly. The notes echoed throughout the Temple. Impa broke her concentration, and held out her hand for the Ocarina. Wordlessly, Zelda put it in her hand.
Impa closed her eyes, and put a hand over it. A glimmering white light fell over the Ocarina, sealing Impa's memory of the action that had just taken place into the Ocarina of Time.
Zelda watched as Impa worked her magic. A seed of doubt had been planted into her mind, and she wondered if her plan would really fail, and she would have to resort to running away and leaving behind an instrument and a memory.