The Legend of Zelda; The Will of the Sword
Disclaimer: Legend of Zelda is property of the Nintendo Corporation,, this is a fan based work.
Chapter 1; Remember the Trees
Waves of shadow, crashing endlessly.
Challenges from accusers unknown.
A million screams for help, gurgling forth from slit throats.
Blood, have to keep the blood in.
Link shot up from his sleep with a gasp, sending his blanket flying. Cold sweat ran down his naked back as he acquisitioned himself to reality. He sent his right hand crashing into the droning alarm at his bedside, causing its deafening screech to go silent. Reluctantly, he lifted his hand to reveal the cruel face of the digital clock and cringed. His fears were confirmed by the light of the sun sneaking past one of the two shaded windows of his apartment.
The young man swiveled his feet from the hard box mattress to the cold metal floor. He stifled a yawn trying to escape and walked over to his "bathroom", I.E. a toilet, a small sink and mirror, and a floor-drain shower tucked into a corner of the economically compact housing.
He did not have time to shower, so he went to the thin metal sink. It had but one faucet; cold was the only option here. Link cranked the valve open and waited as the water gurgled up the length of the pipe. It came sputtering out of the tap all at once before regulating into a more even flow. Link cupped his hands and let them fill into a small pool of the sterile liquid. He splashed the freezing water into his face, refilled his hands and splashed again. The icy shock refreshed him, washing away the last dazes of sleep from his blue eyes.
He reached for a small rectangular cut of rag hanging stiffly to the side, and looked at himself in the mirror as he dried his face. Small rings were beginning to form under his eyes. The nightmares were occurring more and more often, things that had him flinging himself about in his sleep, terrors so gripping they made him somehow ignore his supremely obnoxious alarm. And what were the content of these dreams? That was the most frustrating part, he remembered nothing upon waking.
When he was completely dry, Link went to the small and sturdy dresser at the foot of his bed, digging through its drawers for the closest thing he had to clean. He settled on some worn blue trousers and a sleeveless white shirt that wouldn't get too hot as the day went on. He jumbled into his clothing and grabbed his trusty hardhat from atop the wardrobe and secured it to his head; the stiff yellow plastic had saved his life before and he went nowhere without it. Finally donning his gloves and work boots, he opened the door out of his apartment and headed outside.
The vast stretches of the untamed Kokiri forest greeted Link as he stepped forth from the small complex of identical grey apartments. Link had called the forest his home for a good many months, and not even he was quite used to the nigh endless expanse of treetops visible from his vantage point. He looked to the east to see the twilight sun just peeking the green sea of leaves, putting a immediate jump to his step; He really was late.
Link clambered down the few flights of creaking stairs down to camp at the foot of the shelter complex. Workmen almost as young as he to those hiding white hair underneath their helmets all scurried busily about the camp. A small group of men was scavenging through about a dozen wild hogs. The powerful driving machines had apparently been vandalized the night before, and the men were looking for any useable parts.
In the center of the camp stood a middle aged man with only a ring of hair to the claim of his head. He stood hunched over a squat table on which was jumbled a multitude of white papers littered with tiny black text. Perched next to the paper was a steaming mug of coffee, threatening to ruin the man's plans with every tremor of the shifting table. Link stuffed a stale bagel from the breakfast tray into his pocket for later, and walked reluctantly over to the man at the center of the camp.
"Reporting for sign in sir." Link said, careful not to let his eyes fall. The man, Mr. Aero by name, looked up from his papers, a permanent irritation at life twisting his face.
"This is the third time you've been late this week lad." Mr. Aero said, taking a long draught from his coffee mug. "This has to stop."
"I understand sir." Link responded.
"Is it still those dreams? Maybe its time to see one of those head doctors." the foreman suggested, shuffling through his papers.
"With all due respect Mr. Aero, what would I tell them? I'm being consistently bothered by dreams I can't remember?" Link asked.
Mr. Aero gave a grunt in response. "You're marking today." he commanded, returning to his papers. Link nodded, grabbing one of the heavy black markers from a shallow wooden box amongst the clutter on Mr. Aero's table. He briskly began the walk towards the forest, digging the circular leavened bread from his pocket.
Link brushed the last crumbs off his fingers as he approached the border of the forest. He visually scanned the trees until his eyes fell upon a extraordinary specimen; a big cedar, tall and proud. Link removed one of his gloves and brushed his hand against the light brown wood. It was rough, but not gnarled as do become the more ancient specimens. Link broke off a small piece of the bark and smelled it, the signature aromatic scent of the tree was almost pungently strong. Robust, in the prime of its life. Link gave it one last quick rap with his knuckle before uncapping the black felt pen.
K-4, he wrote in broad letters on the trunk before backing away from it. A man with red hair, Klark by name, waved to Link from his seat on one of the functioning Wild Boars as he saw the marking, before bringing the full brunt of the machine's saws against the tree. Link began to journey deeper into the forest, hearing the resounding fall of the cedar echoing through the forest about a minute or so later.
Link went about his day, testing the attributes of trees that would be of some particular interest to harvest, or might present some type of problem to the woodsmen. He continued for some hours, the outside world and his inner concerns silenced by the meditative emptiness of the work. It was only after marking off a toughened and sinuous old tree that presented the threat of jamming the wild hogs when Link noticed the sun reaching the peak of its crest. The sounds of his fellow workmen tearing down the trees had become a faint hum in the distance. "One more." Link told himself. "Then I'll head back."
He walked about the depths of the forest searching for the last tree to mark. Link soon sidestepped over a root that seemed raised to trip him, and found himself in the midst of a small meadow. The young forester's jaw dropped as he laid eyes upon that which marked the clearing's center. The first thing that struck him first was its sheer size; the trees of Kokiri forest always grew to great proportions, but this was ridiculous. A single stream that cut through the meadow ended as it met the massive roots, as if its only purpose was watering the giant.
The second thing that stuck out to him was the eerie resemblance the bark had to a human face. If not for the uneven ware unique to natural growth, he would have sworn someone had carved it to look like that. Link took a few steps towards the great piece of foliage; it was going to take a lot more than a few markings from a felt pen to figure out how to cut this thing down.
Just as he reached the foot of the monolith, Link thought he heard a sound, a ruffling of shifting branches. He shot his head back to the forest behind; only the whispers inherit to the woods. He knelt down and began to study the roots of the great monster when a searing pain opened up across the back of his head. He fell to the ground like a sack of rocks, yellow shards of hard plastic from his hardhat flurrying down around him. A glimpse of Green people melting out of the trees were the last things he saw.