Taming the Tiger Chapter 5
The Legend of Zelda is the property of Nintendo. I don't own a damn thing. If I did you can bet I would have changed some stuff around.
The air thrummed with predatory tension like that moment right before a rabbit bursts from its hiding spot because it knows it's been spotted. Ganondorf said not a word of greeting, allowing his silence to speak for itself. He had no intentions of entertaining this man, and he was letting it be known. Their eyes met, assessing the other. Something prickled along the seam of Ganondorf's back as he stared into those eyes that were as cool and emotionless as blue gems. He did not let his gaze flick from Fillepus's. It was not that he feared the smaller man but the king of Holodrum was not what he had expected. He had expected an arrogant fool drunk on power. This was a man with a tight rein on his emotions but beneath that control was a seething mass of red and raw feeling that was in danger of being let loose. This was a man who could lose himself completely and utterly to his own madness if he allowed it.
The Gerudo saw this and recognized it because he himself had almost fallen prey to it. He had felt it begging him and tempting him when the Triforce of Power had first been granted to him. Every bit of darkness in him had been awoken and amplified by the relic. It had called to him. It had sung to him a lullaby sweeter than anything his mother ever had. He felt a deep, gnawing ache inside of him at the thought of it. He realized that was what an opium addict must feel like.
He blinked to dissipate the thoughts and refocus his attention on his opponent. Fillepus stood waiting for him to do something. Ganondorf continued to remain still, every nerve in his body telling him to end this man while the opportunity presented itself. His eyes shifted from side to side to make a quick count of the guards. There were six that he could see and probably at least another two that he couldn't. He was fast enough and good enough that he might be able to mortally wound the man before his guards had time to act, but then his life would be forfeit. Zelda nor the Goddesses would be able to save him from that fate.
An image of himself swinging his sword high over head to decapitate the king and then taking out as many soldiers as he could before he died played through his head. What a heroic idea. What a stupid one. He snorted in derision. He was no hero, but he found it oddly tempting.
"What is it that you find so funny?" the small man asked as he stepped around Ganondorf in a slow circle like he was eying a new mount at a horse show.
"A secret," Ganondorf answered calmly swiveling his head around to maintain eye contact with the other man.
"Would you mind letting me in on your secret?"
"I'm afraid I can't. Then it wouldn't be much of a secret, now would it?"
The king let out a short bark of laughter and covered his mouth with a fine white handkerchief. "I suppose you're right."
Silence resumed again as the Holodrummer made a second inspection and then stopped at his original starting point. He cocked his brown head to the side and studied the large man before him with a gleam in his eye that reminded Ganondorf of a magpie spotting some shiny bauble it liked.
I'm just another specimen to him, the former king of thieves of thought. I'm just an overgrown, exotic animal to him.
"Zelda has told me quite a bit about you," he said offhandedly.
"The same cannot be said for you. I have not seen her much since she captured me," he replied with one brow lifted to show his indifference to the subject. He did not like this man discussing Zelda. It made something inside of him tremble with a wild wind.
"She told me that you were quite the thorn in her side. She told me that you were a great warlord. I do not see that."
Ganondorf narrowed his eyes to slits but held his tongue. He wouldn't rise to the bait. He stiffened his shoulders and schooled his features into contempt and boredom.
"Yes, Ganondorf, I do not see that," the king repeated mostly to himself in thought.
The air thickened and boiled with unspoken threats and promises. Ganondorf knew that soon stronger words would be spoken and his tolerance was fraying. He would not be able to bite his tongue forever, and he knew that Filepus knew that and was counting on it.
A sharp clicking came down the hall towards them and both men's heads snapped in its direction like hounds catching a scent. The queen of Hyrule strode down the archway with three guards in shining breastplates and helmets following her. Her attire was more formal than anything the Gerudo had seen her in recently. It was made for official appearances and state functions. The dress was a shade of deep purple that complimented her eyes with seed pearls sewn into the tapering ends of the sleeves and the hem. Her usual diadem was replaced with a small golden crown that sat low on her brow. Her back and shoulders were stiff and her expression was detached and cold. It made him remember the first time he had seen her up close when she had paraded him in front of her court. It also made him remember their last bitter meeting when she had backpedaled and put as much distance between them as she could. It seemed what little time had passed had not thawed the ice she coated herself in.
She stopped beside Filepus and gave him a warm smile. The man returned it. He then took her hand and pulled it to his lips where he kissed the back of her hand. It seemed as if only Ganondorf could see the slight tinge of green in her face when the king's lips brushed her skin. Then again that could just be his wishes coloring the situation. Anyone else might have thought it seemed like a genuine and appropriate display of affection between two royals courting, but the disgraced dark lord knew better. He had spent his entire life studying people and unraveling their lies so that he could spin them better ones. It was as clear as daylight to him that Zelda's smile was brittle and forced, that her posture was rigid and nervous. He read only base lust in Filepus's face as he gazed at the queen. He saw only her crown and what was hidden between her legs when he stared at her.
"What have you been discussing with my . . . guest?" she asked sweetly, her eyes wandering over to Ganondorf.
"Nothing of concern, milady," Filepus said, "only that this is not what I expected of the great scourge of Hyrule."
"Oh?" she said, her voice hinting at laughter. "Well, he can be disappointing at the most inopportune moments."
"I am only disappointing at those tasks which I cannot complete," he rumbled, his tongue finally loosened from his chains. He would allow the king to bait him, but he would not have her dragging out any personal issues she had with him.
Her eyes sharpened at his reply before she turned her gaze back to her suitor. "What were you expecting, dearest?"
"I was expecting something much more. . . what is your word for it? Fierce. Savage. Barbaric. Yes, that is the word I'm wanting to use. Barbaric."
"I assure you he is a savage barbarian and stupid to boot," she said in a chilly voice that would have slicked the hallway in frost if it were possible.
The Gerudo felt his pride flare to life at her comment. "Really, Your Highness? I am hurt. You certainly did not seem to mind my being a savage barbarian the other night, and it was certainly not my stupidity you admired," he said in a silky voice.
Both of the monarchs' eyes widened at his words, and their faces went deathly still.
Filepus lifted an arm to signal his guards to rush the prisoner, but Zelda raised her hand to stop him.
"No," she hissed, "leave him be. He is a fool who does not know what he says or does."
The king of Holodrum shot her a look of shock. "You cannot be serious? I cannot allow this insult to go unpunished and unanswered."
The queen did not turn to look at the man courting her but gave Ganondorf the full benefit of her weighty stare. "If you were to give him injury now, milord, it would prevent him from providing entertainment to the full extent of his already very limited abilities." Her lips turned up into a cold smile full of disdain.
Ganondorf bit the inside of his cheek to fight back the retort dancing on the end of his tongue. It was not her words that fired his blood, it was the look on her face. He had never thought so much disdain and disgust could fit into one beautifully cool expression.
The king narrowed his eyes in thought before nodding in agreement with her, but there was some idea sparking in his eyes. "That is true, and everyone has come here expecting a good and rousing fight. Perhaps there is a way though to inflict a proper punishment without causing him physical harm."
"I am not quite sure I grasp your suggestion. I cannot think of anything appropriate that could be administered in such short notice," Zelda said as she turned her icy gaze from Ganondorf to the king.
"I recall you telling me about an artifact of great power that you possess. The try-something or other," Filepus said with a casual wave of his hand.
"The Triforce," Zelda corrected stiffly.
The Gerudo felt his heart do double time in his chest. She told him! Why? How could she have been so stupid? It made no sense. The Triforce was closely guarded secret of the Hylian royal family, and it had taken him years of hard work to stumble upon its secrets. Now here she was giving the information away to that power hungry mad man who could not even begin to possibly appreciate it.
"Yes," Filepus said as he clasped his hands behind his back, "you said it granted its wielder much power and many different skills."
"Yes," she answered carefully, and Ganondorf could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
He understood then that she had been feeding Filepus false information about the Triforce to make Hyrule seem less vulnerable. It was all a bluff. The king of Holodrum had no idea that Zelda only possessed one third of the Triforce, and that one was not even best suited for protecting the kingdom from wars.
"Well, then shouldn't there be some way you could inflict pain upon him without causing his body physical harm? I've heard you espouse the mental abilities that the Triforce grants its carrier for some time now."
"While it is true that the Triforce does grant its vessel many powerful gifts in the realm of mental prowess, I have never used it or heard of it used in that manner. I do not be-"
"So you are saying that you will allow this Gerudo to get away with inflicting a vile insult upon your character?" Filepus asked in a falsely innocent voice with brows raised as he awaited his answer.
Ganondorf watched as the gears of Zelda's mind worked so furiously that he half expected to see smoke rising out of her ears. She had been backed into a corner. They both knew that the her piece of the Triforce was capable of no such things. He had never seen it used in offensive magic but for her to back down was to reveal her ruse and show how truly weak her country was.
Her eyes met Ganondorf's once again, and all the contempt was gone from them. They were filled with a silent pleading for compliance just this once. He thought of refusing to go along with her stupid plan. It would serve her right, but then, he reflected on the fact that life would be much less pleasant under King Filepus than it was under her. He lowered his chin imperceptibly to let her know that he was with her.
She looked away from him and cleared her throat. "If it would please you I could try to the best of my abilities, but you must keep in mind, that I have never done anything like this before so you must be patient."
A curious expression crossed the Holodrummer's features as he took a step back to give the queen enough room to perform her task. Zelda stood in front of Ganondorf, raising her arms for effect and looking directly into his eyes.
He didn't have to be able to read her thoughts to see the urgency gleaming in her eyes for his cooperation. He took a few steps back as if in fear of the pain that she was about to inflict.
"You will stay in your place, savage," she growled a little too realistically for his liking, "or the punishment that you receive will be much worse and much longer lasting."
He stood still then and allowed her to take a few steps towards him. Her lips began to move as she murmured words to some made up spell. She wasn't even really saying anything. The things she was uttering were just jumbled up syllables, but the king did not seem to realize that as Ganondorf let his eyes slide over to the other man.
When Zelda's lips stopped moving and her fingers and back arched he knew it was time to uphold his end of the bargain. He had to play his part well. He couldn't over do it or the king would know it was all just a show, but he also had to make it impressive enough to satisfy the little monster.
He recalled all of his extensive experience with pain to aid him in that moment. He remembered all of the whippings he had received as a boy when he had refused to listen to his elders and his own sullen defiance. He remembered the feel of a sword slicing through the flesh of his upper arm and having to keep fighting. He remembered seeing that wounded look in Zelda's eyes as he had refused her offer the night before.
He stiffened his back and straightened his shoulders. His arms went rigid at his sides as he forced his hands to slowly curl into fists. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a straight line. After several silent moments with Zelda continuing to flex her fingers and occasionally murmur the gibberish word or two, he allowed a low groan to escape his lips. His nostrils flared as he blew deep breath through his nose in mock distress. He swayed precariously for good show before letting his knees buckle beneath him.
He continued to hold his chin up in open defiance to Zelda. Her brow furrowed in apparent concentration as she pretended to focus harder on her task. She took a step forward. Ganondorf rocked dangerously on his knees before falling onto all fours in front of them. He hung his head and let out another deeper groan of pain.
"Are you sorry?" Zelda asked as she took another step towards him.
"No," he panted, crumpling onto his elbows, pretending that the nearer she got the more intense the pain became.
Her hands flexed spasmodically, and he knew that was his cue. He forced a short scream from his throat, wishing that he could summon tears for greater effect. He settled for pressing his forehead to the ground to hide his face from them. He could feel laughter threatening to burst from him if he wasn't careful. The whole thing suddenly seemed so ridiculous that he wasn't even bothered by the fact that he was kneeling on the floor in front of Zelda and Fillepus.
He felt her press her foot onto his shoulder in a show of triumph. "Are you sorry, now?"
He nodded vigorously, acting as if he were in too much pain to even speak.
"Say it out loud!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority.
Goddesses, is this really necessary? He thought in exasperation. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes, I am sorry. Please, please just make it stop."
"That's better," she said with a smug tone of approval after removing her foot from his shoulder.
"Very impressive," Fillepus stated as he sketched a bow to the queen.
Ganondorf made himself appear to struggle as he pulled himself to his feet. He feigned pain in his limbs, making his hands tremble for effect.
"Thank you," Zelda said quietly. "Now that I believe the barbarian has endured sufficient punishment, let us go to our seats to enjoy the show."
"That sounds like a splendid idea," Fillepus said as he offered her his arm, and she took it. Both of them gave Ganondorf their backs as they strode off for their destination.
He watched them go taking their guards with them with no small measure of relief. As they started to recede into the darkness of the archways, he saw Zelda turn her head slightly to look over her shoulder at him. He thought he might have seen gratitude on her face but couldn't be sure from the distance. She was hard to read at the best of times.
When he could no longer see them at all, he made his way to the courtyard that had been temporarily converted into a sparring yard. A large square had been sectioned off with a makeshift fence. He could see guards and knights lining the walls, and when he looked up he saw nobles filling the balconies. Shadows flitted between them as servants ran to and fro with refreshments. His eyes narrowed in hate as he spotted a row of noblemen ranging in age from mid-forties to one who looked like he was into his eighties. They all wore the same stylized emblem at their throats. It had to be council. Several of them flicked their eyes down at him, examining him as if he were no more than an insect that had caught their attention.
He turned his back on them and leaned against a tree that stood in the corner of the miniature arena. His eyes roved over the crowd that had gathered to watch him fight, bleed, and he was sure they hoped die. All of the gentry were there to get a glimpse at the exotic Gerudo who had plagued their borders for months before being captured by their saintly queen. It made his blood boil just looking at their pale, pampered faces. He was careful to keep his face blank and his arms crossed. He would not give these bubble-headed idiots something to titter about later at the next ball.
The whispering was silenced as Zelda and Fillepus took their seats in a balcony directly overlooking the square where the fighting would take place. The queen's face was a white mask as she sat down on the wooden throne that had been brought out for her. The king of Holodrum wore a knowing smirk that Ganondorf could tell was his usual expression.
A small man in a herald's uniform stood before them and cleared his throat. "In honor of the king of Holodrum, Fillepus the second, a tournament is being held. Ganondorf Dragmire, known as Mandrag Ganon to some and former king of the Gerudo, will fight five opponents. The winner of each round will be determined either by disarmament, concession of defeat, incapacitation, or death."
He rolled his eyes at the last option. He knew which one everyone was hoping for, and he had no doubt that each of the fighters he would face had been hand selected to be the best and most ruthless they could find.
"The first opponent will be Sir . . ." the crier paused and licked his lips. "The first opponent will be Mallor sul Lofarth."
His eyebrows furrowed at the strange sounding name. It was not Hylian or Gerudo, and it did not sound like a Goron or Zora either. A figure came swaggering towards the fighting ground and hopped lightly over the fence. He was tall and heavily muscled with closely shaven dark hair and a multitude of scars that crisscrossed his arms and shoulders. Now the strange name made sense, the man was obviously a mercenary though Ganondorf could not pinpoint where he haled from. The soldier-for-hire had dark hair and eyes and tan skin that could have meant he was from any country.
He wore no armor aside from a tough and worn leather jerkin and a small round shield on his left arm. The former warlord watched him with a careful eye, looking for any physical weaknesses that he might be able to catch and use against him. Just as he thought, there were none. On closer inspection, he could see the Hylians had been careful in their selection. Mallor was large enough to be a force to be reckoned with, but Ganondorf could tell from his smooth stride that he was fast too. His heart beat a little faster at the thought that he might actually have a challenging fight ahead of him. He both relished the prospect and dreaded it.
When the herald had resumed his place in the shadows behind Fillepus and Zelda, the mercenary strutted towards where Ganondorf was still leaning against the tree. He wondered casually how much the salesword had been paid. It must have been a lot for him to be this eager to start the fight. Then again, Ganondorf had no idea what they had told the other man about himself.
Mallor kicked the toe of his boot against the ground, sending up a cloud of dust towards the disgraced king and lifted his sword before him in a gesture of challenge. The Gerudo lazily unfolded his arms and took up the notched sword that was leaning against the trunk of the tree by his side. There was no time to assess the situation for as soon as his sword was in his hands the man flew at him like an arrow shot from a bow. He threw up his sword in front of him and deflected three quick strikes before taking a blow to his side from the small shield.
He fell back as the mercenary came at him again with the speed of a striking snake, raining blow after hissing blow against him. Ganondorf cursed under his breath and went on the defensive. He moved in a slow circle, blocking swipe after swipe, trying to work himself away from the corner of the fence. His mind worked furiously as he tried to figure out some sort of strategy to work to his advantage. It was hard for him to come up with an idea when he was constantly batting away attacks, and he now realized how out of practice he was. Months cooped up in a tower had done nothing for his swordsmanship.
A diagonal blow was swinging down towards him, and he danced back out of the way again. His opponent pursued him, and they engaged in a game of cat and mouse around the small square. If Ganondorf bothered to actually try and deflect a swing with something defensive he would encounter that damned shield. The aching in his side from its earlier impact was now only a dull throb. Another strike came slithering towards him like a silver ribbon. He parried it. The shield came hurtling towards him as he had predicted. Instead of trying to avoid it this time, he slammed his shoulder into it and watched with satisfaction as the man staggered back a few paces. He took the opportunity to put more ground between them where his greater reach would serve as an advantage for him.
He made a few experimental lunges and probing swings but nothing serious. He was still testing the waters. His sisters had taught him from an early age that a fighter's greatest weapon is his brain. The Gerudo were strong, but Hylian Knights were stronger. As the ages had passed, the women of his tribe had learned to rely on cunning rather than brute force. He began to see a pattern to the man's fighting style. He was like an animal functioning purely on instinct. Once he found a groove that he fit into, it was hard for him to work his way out of it.
For several more minutes, the two men worked their way around the small arena with Mallor swinging blow after blow, and Ganondorf dodging and evading to the best of his ability. He had hoped that his enemy's strength might have started to flag by now, but it appeared as if no such luck would come his way. He would have to end this himself then if he wanted to preserve his strength to face the other four fighters.
He pretended to stumble on an unseen rock and fell to one kneel. A gleam of knowing triumph winked in the other man's eyes as he raised his sword to deliver the killing blow. The Gerudo hid a smile as his sword swung not up to protect himself from the oncoming blow but forward and to the side, slicing deeply into the soldier-for-hire's thigh and hamstringing him.
The scarred man screamed, dropped his sword, and fell to his knees clutching his leg. The former king of thieves rose from his vulnerable position to stand over his opponent with a tip of his sword at his throat. He stared down at the mercenary who was glaring at him through the narrow slits of his eyes, his jaw trembling as he tried to suppress the pain coming from his leg. There was a moment of thickness in the air as everyone waited in anticipation of what the savage would do. He weighed his two options carefully in his mind. This man was only doing what he was paid to do. There was nothing personal to it. Then again, how could you not take someone trying to kill you personally? A wicked smile creased Ganondorf's face as he drove the point of his blade into the man's throat.
The crowd murmured amongst themselves at the spectacle that they had just witnessed. They had long ago become immune to the sight of blood and gore, but they had not expected him to win and so swiftly at that. He could sense the unease building in the air around him as he contemplated who his next match might be.
His second match was against a knight whose name he could not recall with a long list of tedious titles that meant nothing. The nobleman wore a full suit of armor with a heavy triangular shield on his left arm. He moved cautiously and slowly towards the Gerudo, keeping his shield up and his sword before him. The two slowly circled each other as they waited for someone to strike the first blow. In the end, it was up to Ganondorf to be the one who initiated the fight. He swung a light and easy blow towards the fool and watched as the shield came up. This one would be harder. There were only a few places in the armor where his sword could penetrate, and the man no doubt would expect that. He was now facing a man who was patient and experienced and who believed he was fighting for the honor of his queen and country.
The Gerudo cursed in his mind as he forced himself to take the offensive, adopting the fighting style of his now dead enemy. He swung wildly and rapidly, never allowing a moment's reprieve. He whirled and dove and wove circles around the knight, making quick jabs when he could. He screamed out warcries at the top of his lungs as he attacked, trying to frighten the knight into making a lethal mistake. He knew he was reinforcing the Hylians' opinion of him that he was a mad savage. Let them think that. He no longer cared about not giving them something to gossip about. The old and familiar thrill of battle was running through his veins, and it would not be quieted or subdued. The knight blocked and hid behind his shield like a turtle in his shell, only rarely daring to trade blows. Ganondorf began to see that he would get nowhere fast with his current strategy and began to focus his efforts on the man's helmet. He put dent after dent in the piece of armor until it was so dinged up the man had to take it off because he could not see out of his visor.
The metal husk hit the ground with a clang as the two resumed their fighting. The Gerudo found himself growing tired and bored with the fight and knew he would have to end it soon. He feigned a weak strike to the right, inviting the knight to try and take a stab at him. The man seized the opening, and Ganondorf spun on his heel like his mother had taught him all those summers ago, bringing his sword around in an arc with him. The edge of it caught the Hylian in the middle of the back his head and embedded there. The man groaned more in shock then out pain and well forward onto his face, pulling Ganondorf's sword from his limp fingers.
The victor drew deep breaths as he recovered his strength. Then he stepped forward and put a foot on the dead man's back and wrenched the sword from the back of the knight's skull. The crowd was silent this time as they drank in the outcome. If the outcome of the fight with the mercenary had surprised them this had shocked them. This time one of their own had fallen to the heathen.
The third match came with much less fanfare than the first two. The Hylians had learned to temper their eagerness for blood shed. He caught some of the nobles whispering to each other and sliding glances over to the council members as if questioning the wisdom of their choices.
His third opponent was another knight. He could tell from the spring in the man's step that he was younger than the other one. This was a chance to prove himself and win glory for his house. He lashed out with a quick slice that Ganondorf danced around on the balls of his feet. They traded blows back and forth experimentally. The Hylian was strong and fast and his technique was good.
The Gerudo and the knight circled each other for several minutes as steel clanged on steel, neither willing to take the risk or give the other an advantage. The former king of thieves thought and examined the younger man. Simple sword play wouldn't do with this one. He couldn't hope to tire him out or make him let his guard slip.
In the end, he settled for psychological tactics. While they fought, he murmured a stream of nonsensical Gerudo words and inflected them with a mocking tone. When the young man asked him what they meant, he replied but in his native tongue. The words began to work like a quick-acting poison and soon the knight, believing that they were grave insults, allowed his anger to blind him. He rushed Ganondorf like a bull. The taller man angled his body away from the sword and used the advantage to slide his blade between the buckles of the Hylian's breastplate.
The fourth fight went by in a blur of steel and scarlet. They fought in circles around the yard, trading blow for blow. This opponent was young and fit like the last one but his temper was not as volatile and so Ganondorf could not goad him into rash actions. While they fought, the crowd remained as silent as an audience of corpses. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as the Gerudo and the Hylian hacked away at each other.
The dethroned warlord received a gash across his forearm and another on his thigh when his sword came up too slowly. Every time he tried to land a hit on the boy he danced out the way. Finally, he mustered up the last of his remaining strength and threw himself at his foe. It was only flagging strength that made him do such a desperate act. If it didn't work he would be a dead man either way. The knight was caught off guard by the sudden change in strategy and struggled to bring his sword up in time to defend himself. The bigger man swatted the blade away and drove the other to the ground beneath his weight. They struggled for a moment but soon it was over. Ganondorf's strong fingers found the gap between the helmet and breastplate and choked the life out of the young knight.
He stood with his chest heaving and blood running down his arm and leg. He felt a twinge of pain in his chest as he sucked down a deep breath. Had he fractured a rib? If he had he couldn't remember how it had happened. He looked up once at the Hylian faces above him. They were cold and impassive, only their sheer silence hinting at the shock reverberating through them. He allowed his eyes to slide over to Zelda's face and found that she still wore her calm, icy mask. The king of Holodrum was propping his chin on his palm and examining the Gerudo with a raised eyebrow like he was a dog that had just performed a surprising and intriguing trick.
He took another deep breath to keep the dizziness at bay. He could feel fatigue dragging at him. His limbs felt like lead. A bubble of laughter swelled in his chest. It was suddenly all so absurd that it became funny. They had all expected him to die after the first fight, and yet he stood there with a Hylian knight growing cold at his feet. The bubble floated up to his throat and lodged there. It started as soft chuckle. Then it grew and expanded until he was throwing back his head in laughter. His arms wrapped around his middle as he bent double trying to contain his humor. A bolt of pain in his chest stopped him long enough to allow him to draw breath and calm himself. When he had composed himself again, he pointed his sword at the ring of nobility above him.
"You thought I would fall before your hired killer and your feeble knights, but instead I gave you four new corpses to bury. Send your best fighter, and I shall give you a fifth," he said in Gerudo and then spit in the dirt before returning to his position against the tree.
He did his best to keep up appearances as he watched them start exchanging whispers again. He forced himself to keep his features schooled into perfect apathy while discreetly checking the wounds he had received in the last fight. The one on his arm was superficial. It was the deep gash across his leg that worried him. The wound was starting to throb and even if he made it through this last match alive, which he was uncertain of, there was a good chance it would become infected if left untreated. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and clear his head and start thinking of some sort of strategy. He had no idea what kind of challenger he would be facing. Another knight? Something different? He had no way of knowing. That moment soon turned into several before he was startled from his reverie by the sound of someone approaching.
He opened his eyes to find a figure walking towards him. The fighter was no knight that much was obvious from his lack of armor. He wore all black except for some design done in blood red on his shirt. As he drew closer, Ganondorf could make out a red eye with a tear drop beneath it stitched onto his loose shirt. The lower half of his face was obscured by a cloth mask.
"A Sheikah," he stated loud enough for his opponent to hear him. "I thought there were too few of you left for you to throw your lives away like this."
The man said nothing.
Ganondorf pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against, careful to hide the wince that crossed his face. He walked in a slow circle around the other man, trying to buy himself time to regain more of his strength and study this new adversary. He wore no armor but that meant nothing. He might be good enough to where he didn't need it. The Sheikah were fast and fleeting as shadows. His own people had believed they were spirits of the dead bound by dark magic to serve the Hylian Royal Family. He shook his head. He knew differently though. They were flesh and blood. They could bleed and die just like anyone else.
As he walked, the man's head turned to follow his path, but he still remained silent. Finally, he realized he could buy himself no more time. He could spot no weaknesses or come up with any strategies. There was no insight to be had from an opponent who refused to speak. He stopped in front of the shadow-warrior and hefted his sword in his hand. "Come then, let's get this over with and see who death waits for."
The dark figure wasted no time and dashed forward without warning. Ganondorf stumbled back and barely raised his sword in time to block a swing. It was deceptively light and slid off his own blade with a hiss. The Gerudo spun around in a tight circle to knock aside the next jab aimed at his side. The Sheikah easily evaded his own clumsy counterattack.
He could feel his heart pounding in chest as his body worked to bring up his sword to block another strike aimed at his side. He whirled out of the way of a lightning fast jab that would have skewered him if he had been any slower. He lashed out in a frantic effort to put some space between them, but the shadow leaped to the side as if it were nothing.
His breath came in great gasps as they worked their way around the yard. He walked in a crouched position with the sword held out in front of him. His lips skinned back from his teeth as he countered strike after strike, no longer daring to attempt an attack of his own. He brought his sword up again to parry an overhead strike and then to the side to brush aside another swing. It didn't take him long to realize that he was being toyed with. The Sheikah knew he was tired and worn out. He would have to have been blind not to see it.
He cursed underneath his breath as he was slowly worked into a corner. Every time he tried to change the direction of the fight there the bastard was herding him like some damn sheep dog. He seemed to be everywhere at once. Wherever Ganondorf turned there he was waiting with his sword raised to swing. The former King of Thieves at first thought it was some sort of dreadful magic being worked on him. He would not have put it past the council. Soon though he realized that it was merely hard earned skill and tremendous talent working against him.
If only he had his magic. If he still had the Triforce of Power the fight would have been over and done with. He would have blasted the man to ashes. Instead, he was struggling to lift his sword to avoid the inevitable for a moment longer. He gritted his teeth against the jarring impact of steel on steel that ran up his sword arm and echoed through out the rest of his battered body. Anger ran through his veins hot and molten like the lava that spewed out of Death Mountain. If he was going to die it would at least be with blood on his sword.
"What are you waiting for?" he grunted to his opponent as he struggled to evade a lunge.
There was no answer. The silent warrior's only reply was the clang of his blade on Ganondorf's. They struggled for a moment with blades grinding against each other before the Sheikah hopped away to resume his taunting.
"Finish it now. You know you want to."
There wasn't even the slightest flicker of emotion across the fighter's face as he struck again. This time the blow landed, and Ganondorf's upper arm was sliced open beneath the passing blade. He hissed and stumbled backwards, sparing a glance down as the blood ran down his arm. He growled wordlessly and started pacing deliberately and slowly. He ignored the new throbbing pain rushing through his body and focused his attention on the man before him.
They danced around each other. The Sheikah struck and then feinted and struck again. His sword seemed insubstantial. It seemed to be made of something lighter and stronger than mere steel. It felt to Ganondorf as if he were fighting three men instead of one. It seemed as if he had been fighting forever. If anyone had asked him to he could not have recalled anything before this match or have cared what happened after it. It was timeless. It was eternal. It seemed as if he had always been doomed to fight this constant and maddening struggle, knowing he was condemned to lose.
He could feel the last strength leaving him. His body was giving out. He was no immortal. He was not a god. He had come close once, but that didn't make any difference at the moment as he repelled stroke after stroke, knowing that it was for nothing. Despite the crushing weight of defeat, there was still some stupidly stubborn spark in him that refused to sputter out and die like the rest of him wanted to. It gave his mind form and his body purpose.
He watched as the man prepared to swing again, and instead of countering like he normally did, he raised his own sword to attack. The Sheikah caught it and stopped his blade in mid-swing to halt Ganondorf's attack. For one moment, things slowed down and became crystalline. He could see every infinite detail. He brought the sword down as hard as he could while lashing out with his foot. The Sheikah's eyes widened with pain and surprise. He grunted and stumbled back. Their swords slid apart. He crossed the distance between them and slammed his fist into that terrible, silent masked face. His enemy's head reeled back, and just as he cocked his fist back to land another blow, he felt something sudden and scalding shoot up from his side. He looked down and saw a terribly familiar blade jutting from his side. His fingers went limp and his sword clattered to the ground.
"She should have let me kill you sooner," the Sheikah whispered as he withdrew the blade.
"I should have known it was you," Ganondorf murmured through bloodstained lips as he sagged to his knees. His fingers scrabbled at the cloth mask separating him from his opponent. Link's red washed face stared down at him in triumph and disbelief as he fell onto his side to the ground and felt the life slowly leak out of him.
I'm terribly sorry it's been so long since I've updated this. I didn't realize it had been nearly half a year. I'm afraid real life has gotten in the way of me posting this sooner. Another reason is that I simply didn't know how to write this. I hate writing fight scenes. Hate it. I must have started this twice more before tossing it and going with this version. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I would like to know what you thought of it, and no, this isn't the end of the story.