I make no claims to the Legend of Zelda.

Prang entered Castle Town with the first rays of dawn, stepping on the drawbridge just as it hit the ground. He looked fierce and dangerous but the guards gave him no trouble. Hyrule's knights were not known for their bravery or competence, or for picking fights when they didn't have to.

Prang did not know much except that he was here to look for someone who was possibly a warrior and possibly a magician; possibly an archer and possibly a musician; possibly a saint and possibly a beast.

Above all else, Prang believed in strength of arms. So he knew, without a doubt in his heart, that only a warrior could be a threat to the Emperor. After all, who but the greatest warrior in the world would have been able to jeopardize Itac's safety in the far-off Imperial court, under the guard of the Four?

And so he went to a place where there were no warriors; but there were various rough types who knew and admired warriors. A loud bar where alcohol flowed like water.

Well, that was what he was expecting, anyway. But this was Hyrule, so the only thing flowing was milk.

Prang did not complain. He drank what he was given, and drank it quickly.

Prang waited until he found a semi-ruffian who managed somehow to drink himself blind on milk. He maneuvered the man into saying a few choice things about Prang's mother. Then, with a smile of triumph, he lifted the offender and threw him across the entire bar to break a table in half with his landing.

"My blood is boiled up," Prang announced. "I need to fence or shoot or throw. Where can I find that?"

And the others, eager to not have him pull a knife or a bow or a bomb in the bar, told him about the town shooting gallery.

Prang went and found it. He accepted without complaint that he was only allowed to use a slingshot. He picked up the unfamiliar weapon and shot every target on his first try.

"A perfect score! Only one person has ever gotten a perfect score before, ever!" cried the shopkeeper.

And Prang knew he had found his opponent.

"Who?"

"Oh, a kid. About yay high, dresses in green. I think he might just be one of the Kokiri."

"I would speak with him. Where can I find him?"

"Oh, he's here and there. Runs around all day helping people. He's a good boy."

"I see."

"He has a house in the Lost Woods. You don't want to go there. Never come out again. But he's bound to get back home eventually, so if you really need to talk to him you'll want to wait at the entrance."

Prang stared at the keeper of the gallery. The man looked kindly and open. He would certainly tell anyone who asked about the time he was visited by the mysterious armed man who got the perfect score. He wondered if that was worth killing over; in the end he decided it was not. Unlike many of Iak's lesser henchmen, Prang took no particular joy in killing. It was a job, just like any other.

Following the advice he had been given, Prang found the hollow log that led to the Lost Woods. Something tugged at his mind, telling him that should he enter he would get a chance to be a warrior among warriors forever. But Prang's discipline was as strong as his muscles, and he stood in place for the rest of the day, departing only to fend off the Peahats roaming in the daylight.

In other parts of Hyrule, Link was playing the part of the hero. Today he delved into the Goron caves to retrieve metals needed by a clockmaker in Castle Town, dove to the very bottom of Lake Hylia to retrieve a dropped coin, gave Epona some good exercise jumping the fences of Lon Lon Ranch, and finally, having accomplished everything there was to be done, he threw his sword into the air and caught it again time after time after time.

At last he headed home. For better or for worse, he was indeed following the most common path into the Lost Woods. Unknown to the gallery keeper Link traveled many alternate routes. On any given day he might dive through the waters near Zora Domain or run through the Goron caves, or simply pop home with a magic melody. On many days he did not return to Kokiri Village at all, preferring to stay closer to the adventures of the outside world. But Prang was lucky; and in that he was unlucky.

Prang naturally knew his victim from the first moment the boy approached him. He had no problem with the fact that Link was just leaving childhood, nor that he still looked childishly adorable with bunny ears plastered over the top of his green hat. Prang had a mission, and he would complete it.

He fell upon Link without a word or a battle cry, drawing his sword of black steel, forged in the fires of a volcano. With speed even greater than Prang's own, Link blocked that blade with his own: a slim, straight, and golden thing. Prang struck again and was blocked again, this time with a shield that held the image of a screaming face.

They settled into a steady fight then. With his long arms and longer blade, Prang had reach going for him. And he was fresh while Link was tired from the day's labors. But Link was able to deliver blows with both blinding speed and power that would put grown men to shame. And it seemed to Prang that his opponent had a truly uncanny sense of timing, parrying every blow and responding with his own in perfect staccato.

Every once in a while Link would roll underneath Prang's thrust. Prang was fast enough to inflict a wound on his enemy each time this happened; but not fast enough to avoid getting slashed in return. Within an hour both of them were covered in gashes, bleeding and slowly weakening. Prang knew that after a lifetime of searching he'd found his match. He knew that if the hero of Hyrule had been fully grown, Prang's own life would end here.

But as things stood, Prang had advantages. Though he had as many wounds as Link and they were just as deep, he had more blood to lose. He was just a bit less weakened than his enemy and he used all of that little bit in one final desperate attack.

With a roar he knocked aside Link's sword, then shield, plunging forward. The boy's blade came back, slashing at his chest, but Prang didn't care. He plunged his own sword into Link's chest, suffering another retaliatory strike and a third before Link finally fell to the ground.

Prang stood back, holding his wounds. That last attack had cost him much. But he was alive now, and if he could bind his wounds and rejoin his compatriots, he might yet survive the day. Most importantly, he had accomplished his mission.

At this moment a fairy extricated itself from one of Link's bottles and flew around him, spending its magic power to bring him back to full health. Its favor granted, the fairy disappeared into the tall grass.

Prang looked on in horror as Link jumped back to his feet and fell upon him with renewed vigor. The effort and pain of the last hour's battle had all been for nothing. He tried to fight back, but against a totally fresh opponent his weakened arms could do nothing.

Then Link spun around, his blade cutting deeper than it had any right to, and Prang realized his chest wasn't exactly attached to his torso anymore.

In his final moments of consciousness, Prang realized his mistake. His enemy wasn't a warrior. He was a hero. The rules were different for heroes.

Link wiped the blood from his sword and moved on. He was not particularly concerned about his strange attacker, being used to being randomly assaulted by now. The world held many who opposed the light. The encounter had cost him nothing more than a fairy favor, and he knew many places to capture more of the little helpers.

When the appointed meeting time came to pass and Prang failed to show, Oasa, Vehl, and Erliol knew they would not be seeing him again. And thus Oasa, who had drawn the second lot, made her preparations. Oasa, the Emperor's sorceress who had the soul of a spider but the body of something resembling a woman. Oasa who picked minds the way thieves picked pockets and killed without raising a hand. Oasa who was feared even by other dark sorcerers for her cruelty and also for her stealth.

"I will destroy the hero as he is meant to be destroyed," she promised the others.

And the three of them watched the sun set.