Legal disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Zelda, or any of its characters, nor do I have any intention of publishing this story for profit.

Chapter 3

Zelda clapped her hands in sheer delight as Link hit target after target dead center with his arrows. Many of the guards standing nearby were even raising their eyebrows in wonderment at the apparent skill of such a young child.

"Targets that sit still like these aren't really much," Link said as he nocked another arrow. "All it takes is some practice... and a lot of patience." In demonstration of that patience, Link kept the bow and arrow steady ahead of him for a good many seconds until he felt ready to let it fly. Once he did, it lauched straight and true, as if guided, to the center of the target.

"How are you at moving targets?" Zelda asked, impressed by not only Link's skill, but also by his demeanor. When most people spoke about their skill, they were usually boasting. From Link, though, it sounded more like a simple explanation more than anything else.

Link shrugged as he answered. "Pretty fair. The target range in Castle Town has some moving targets, but the ranges in Termina are more challenging. They have a range where you have to shoot monsters, both sitting still and moving, within a limited time... then there's that witch's 'Safari Shooting Game' in the Southern Swamp. That one's really challenging."

"How so?"

Link nocked another arrow as he spoke. "Well, the witch flew around on her broomstick with a target attached underneath, while I was on a boat that was travelling on its course down the swamp," he explained. "In other words, both the target and I was moving. The real trick there was not only hitting the target, but avoiding hitting the witch."

"So how did you do at that one?" Zelda asked, smirking. She had no doubts about Link's character, but every now and then, she tried to see if she could actually get Link to outright openly brag... just once. She often wondered, though, that if she ever did succeed, would she feel proud of herself for cracking his humility... or disappointed in Link for giving in to his ego?

"Well... I did manage to hit the required twenty targets..." Link said as he fired the arrow into yet another bullseye, then admitted, "...the eleventh time I tried. Not to mention that I nearly hit the poor witch a few times. Lucky for me, she always kept a shield spell on herself for just such an occasion."

Zelda shook her head, bemused, yet amused. Sometimes, she wondered if Link even had an ego.

As Link walked by the targets to yank out the arrows, Zelda asked, "Mind if I try it?"

"Sure," Link said as he yanked out the last arrow. He handed over his bow and an arrow to Zelda.

Zelda proceeded to nock the arrow, then aimed it with one eye shut. After a few seconds of concentrating, she let it loose.

The arrow flew straight...

... right into the white ring at the very edge of the target.

Zelda sighed in disappointment.

"Not bad," Link said in encouragement. "At least you hit it." He then handed another arrow to Zelda. "Try again."

Zelda nocked the second arrow and pulled the string.

This time, Link came to stand right behind her, his head over her shoulder, and his hand gently against her bow hand. "A little over this way..." he said and guided her aim ever so slightly. "Also, keep both eyes open when you aim. You see more that way."

Zelda complied, then after a few more seconds, released the arrow.

This time, the arrow hit the red ring surrounding the bullseye.

"Much better," Link said, smiling. "Even I didn't get that close on my second try."

Zelda appreciated the compliment, but couldn't help saying, "Oh, you're just saying that."

"I'm serious! It took me over a week before I even got that close," Link admitted. "I think that you're a natural at this."

Zelda blushed at Link's praise, then proceeded to continue trying her luck at the target.

The King continued to watch as the boy continued to coach Zelda on marksmanship, secure in the knowledge that Impa was probably also watching from her own vantage point that neither he, nor the two children he surveyed, were aware about.

All the while, he kept thinking about what Impa had told him...

I see him as the one thing even I, as her caretaker, cannot provide for her. A true friend...

A true friend.

The King closed his eyes... and remembered a time when that was exactly what he desired.

"Johanssen? Johanssen! Where are you!"

The young prince scurried behind the windmill of Kakariko Town, trying to avoid the ever watchful eye of his Shiekah caretaker. His father, King Haakon, had dragged him here while he came to first pay a visit to the Shiekah living here, then proceed up Death Mountain to Goron City to establish relations.

But dammit, by Din, he hated being watched over and guarded like he was a bauble not to be scratched... or even approached for that matter. Why couldn't they just let him have some Hylian contact other than servants and nursemaids for once?

As the voice of Makar, his Shiekah guardian, drew ever closer, he decided to make a run for it. He ran close to the stone path on top of the archway at the bottom of the steps of the windmill, then leaped over the fence built to prevent anyone from falling off and dropped to the ground below, rolling to soften the impact. As he ran down the path leading to the Shiekah Graveyard, he couldn't help feeling a bit of pride. He was pretty spry for someone his age, which was twelve... something that was constantly a source of pride, and also frustration, to Makar. He often overheard Makar speaking to his father about how even he, as a Shiekah, had difficulty keeping up with him whenver he ran off.

As Prince Johanssen continued to reminisce as he ran, he failed to notice the towheaded boy that was just leaving the graveyard.

Needless to say, the two collided rather abruptly.

As Johanssen regained his senses, he took note of the boy before him, sprawled on the ground. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry!" he exclaimed.

By all rights, the prince wouldn't have blamed the boy in the slightest of he were angry. But to Johanssen's surprise, the boy just got up and brushed himself off, saying, "That's all right. No harm done, really. But from the way you looked, I'd say that you were running from something."

Someone, actually, thought Johanssen, but said, "You might say that." Johanssen was surprised by the utter candor with which this boy spoke to him. Didn't he realize that he was the Prince of Hyrule? On the other hand, it's not as if Prince Johanssen ever got out of the castle much for anyone in Hyrule to ever get a really good look at him anyway. So maybe it shouldn't be such a surprise.

Johanssen derailed this train of thought. Why should I complain! I've always wanted to meet someone outside the castle. This is my big chance to finally make a friend. So rather than spoil the event with royal introductions, he decided to continue the conversation.

"So what brings you here to a Shiekah town?"

"I was just visiting the graveyard. I've heard all sorts of stories of how the Shiekah bravely defended the Royal Family in all sorts of adventures. When I was younger, I wanted to be a Shiekah, but I was told that you had to be born a Shiekah. So, instead, I've decided that I want to become a knight. Coming here almost makes me feel that I could live those adventures... imagining everything they went through... the pain and the victories..."

Johanssen smiled as he listened to the boy's speech, and felt an almost instant kinship. The boy was just like him, wanting to live life to the fullest rather than sitting and languishing in a castle, bored out of his mind. "Sounds great," he said.

"What about you?" the boy asked.

Johanssen sighed. "I'd love the same thing... sort of. But... my father has other plans for me."

The boy nodded, understanding. "Wants you to learn the family trade, or something like that?"

Johanssen chuckled at that. "More like that than you think." It was then that he decided that it was time for an introduction. The prince extended his hand as he said, "By the way, I'm..." He didn't want to introduce him as the Prince, so he decided on something simpler. "...Johan." It wasn't really a lie. Makar had often called him by that shortened version of his name.

The boy smiled as he shook Johan's hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Arn."