3 days earlier…

Location: The Great Desert. Somewhere south of Hyrule.

Year: 2238 AP (After Plauge), Shortly Before Dawn


The Great Desert to the south of Hyrule wasn't a place where one could live easily. There was very little in the way of food or water, and the sun could burn a Human or Villager to a smoky little crisp within minutes if the proper precautions weren't taken. Nothing but Cactuses and a few rodents and snakes lived out here; it was too barren for most life. What lived in the desert had to be cunning and ruthless, otherwise it meant death. The sun could kill just as easily as a lack of food or water, and a hungry predators were always on the prowl. Eat or be eaten, Kill or be killed. Steal or be stolen from. Only the strongest could survive in the wasteland that was the Great Desert.

Like the creatures of the desert, the nomadic Gerudo Tribe had to be harsh and unforgiving. They plundered the villages just outside the Wasteland regularly for needed supplies, and hid their wells so no one else but them could find them. Every drop of water, every piece of bread, every tool, every task, and every life was precious. With such scarce resources, nothing could be wasted, especially work. If a man failed to carryout an assignment or did something foolish, it could mean the death of the entire tribe. No one could afford to be lazy, so thus the punishments were harsh. They were built off of the harsh land, and they had to abide by its rules. They were hunters; they were killers; they were a tribe of thieves. If they were not, they would not survive.

Tradition was strong in the tribe of bandits: Once a year, the Gerudo Tribe migrated to a special location near the western edge of the desert, for the Feast of Creation. For three days, the tribe would feast, worship, and be merry in the shadow of an old obsidian tower that the Gerudos called the Shadow Temple.

No one knew what the Temple had been built for; it was abandoned long ago, and no one had attempted to enter it in over 100 years. Legends said that anyone who entered it unworthily would be cursed… the trouble was that no one knew what it meant to be worthy to enter the Shadow Temple.

Because of this, all the Gerudo children wondered what lay inside the obsidian portal, But none dared approach the tower, for fear of the legend, and of the curse.

Ghandon… The desert Wind seemed to whisper as it swept through the mass of tents.

In one tent, the young prince of the Gerudo Tribe slept fitfully. The boy rolled over, almost as if in response to the whispering's of the wind outside.

Young Prince of the Dark…

Again the young prince stirred.

Go to the tower!

With a snap, Ghandon's eyes popped open. Silently, he slithered to the tent-flap and poked his head outside. If he was to have a chance of visiting the Shadow Temple, he would have to do it now, as the tribe would be leaving the following morning. He had to find out what was inside it; something within him was urging him on, and if he didn't satisfy it, he felt he would be drawn back here eventually.

The moon was high in the sky, casting its brilliant light upon the lake of tents. From what he could tell, no one was else awake. The gods had been merciful on him; it was perfect timing. Excitedly, he quietly slipped on his clothing on, and slinked out of his tent, pausing for a moment to knick a few torches and a pack of flint and steel to light it with. Stealthily, the boy slunk out of the camp, pausing occasionally to listen and keep his eyes open for mobs or a patrol.

He encountered none, but never the less, as he drew closer to the Shadow Temple, a feeling of dread slowly began to descend upon him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching him, and that feeling only increased as he cautiously approached the door of the Obsidian Tower.

With awe he looked up, and noticed some ancient Gerudo runes etched across the top of the doorframe. None of his tribe had dared get close enough to read the runes for a century, but now, the meaning was clear to him, and the Legends made a bit more sense.

"Astar et Novilin ala Makar thu unva alinin", he whispered, quivering in excitement."Only he with a pure heart or a Soul of Shadow may enter."

Open the door, Ghandon… The wind whispered.

Although there was no doorknob, something inside him knew what to do. Without even thinking, the young prince stretched forth his hand and touched the archway. He felt a tingling shock pass from his hand and into the doorframe. There was a burst of purple light and the door opened.

Behind the door was a single room that stretched up into the darkness above. Along the walls stood crumbling statues of extraordinarily tall, yet very thin beings. Each was carved exactly the same, with strangely shaped faces and eyes that were so large, that the figures were clearly neither Human, nor Villager. In the center of the room stood another archway that was raised above the floor made of sandstone with 11 holes places where jewels were to be placed, but a twelfth spot in the exact top center was already filled with a glowing green crystal that looked vaguely like an eye with a slitted pupil.

As he entered, he felt the sound of startled whispers echo throughout the room, and he thought he saw the eyes of the alien statues start to glow a faint purple. This room…felt…familiar, somehow. The room thrummed.

Hail Ghandon, Son of Chief Gheldan of the Gerudo Tribe. A Voice whispered within his head.

"Why have you summoned me here?" Ghandon asked aloud, staring at the statues. He was trying very hard not to be afraid.

To greet thee and grant unto you the gifts you will soon need, The Voice said.

"Gifts?" The boy asked curiously, "For what purpose?"

The Voice ignored his questions and continued.

Reach forth thy hand, and touch the archway.

Ghandon took a step forward onto the dais, as the eyes began to glow brighter.

Hail Ghandon, I crown thee the Prince of Shadows. The Voice spoke solemnly.

HAIL GHANDON, PRINCE OF SHADOWS! Rang the sound of other Voices.

Ghandon, unthinking, and without hesitation, extended his hand toward the Archway…

HAIL GHANDON, LORD OF ENDERMEN! The Voices declared.

Ghandon's hand touched the Archway, and the crystal eye began to glow.

Hail Ghandon, Champion of Power. The Voices chanted solemnly.

There was a spark of electricity, and suddenly, Ghandon, seared as though by fire and pain let loose an awful scream as the archway lit up into a swirl of purple and dark blue. Specks of white glittered in the portal like stars in the night sky…

Hail Ganondorf, prince, lord, and champion. The voices said solemnly.

Ghandon slumped to the ground, his vision growing blurred. Inside the portal, he thought he could make out the dark alien form of one of the creatures that were depicted in the statues. Almost tenderly, the shape reached out to him as he fell unconscioussness.

Sleep, Ganondorf. You have much to learn.


The whole Tribe heard the scream come from the Shadow Temple, and when the chief found that Ghandon was missing from his bed, he rushed to the door of the obsidian tower. Inside, he found his son, lying unconscious on the ground near the Inner Archway.

His hair was still the same bright red that it once was, but the boy was clearly not the same; the boy's skin was different, no longer the rich tan, that characterized the desert tribes, but was now as black as night and cold to the touch. Upon his brow glowed the ancient rune that symbolized power, and when the boy's eyelids were lifted up to see if he was still alive, all his father found was glowing purple orbs. No matter how hard the chief tried, the boy would not awaken.

With tears in his eyes, the Gerudo Chief bundled him up and carried his son to the Eldest Shaman...

"Can you not bring my son back?" Chief Gheldan asked, tears forming in the eyes of his harsh face, as he laid his only son on the ground.

The Shaman studied the boy for a moment, examining his skin and eyes. He muttered a few incantations, but nothing happened. After a few more minutes, he rose, shaking his head in sorrow.

"This curse is beyond my skill, my Chief," the Shaman said, "It bears the mark of an Enderman's touch. He will die, unless he is brought before the royal court of Hyrule. Only there can the effects of the curse be lifted."

"The nation of Hyrule has hated my people for generations!" the Chief responded, "Why in Enden's name would the King of Hyrule help me?"

"The line of Hyrule is said to hold a special connection with the Tri-force. If there is a need, you will find the way. I cannot help but think that this is simply the work of the gods. All three of them."


Author's Note: I wasn't exactly sure how to present this chapter... But I finally got around to it. As usual, any comments, critiques, or suggestions would be appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this little snippet on the origin of Ganondorf.