During the following week, I got settled into my job at Link's stables. I was one of the only workers there. There were two others, and I could tell that they were only there for Link. They were both girls, 16, and weak—they hated the work, but loved Link. Personally, I was sick of them.

Link let me stay in the guest room of his little farmhouse, which was about a mile from the aboveground trade route. He shared my opinion of the two girls, and knew how annoying they could be. They hated my guts, but whenever they expressed this, I just smirked.

Link trained me in the art of swordsmanship. He gave me a nice shield, which looked like the symbol on FIRESTORM's pommel and hilt. Link was a master; his sword seemed to come alive in his hand, a darting, nipping, biting metal beast, searching for weakness and exploiting it, looking for strength and turning it against me. Link never seemed to break a sweat or tire. He never lost his rhythm. CLANK-CRASH-CLINK-SHINK! Our swords met many times. Our goal was to disarm the other, but Link always won.

After a particularly trying session, I was left doubled over, attempting to catch my breath. Link was breathing just a little heavily, but not enough that he seemed tired. He looked as if he had jogged around the farmhouse twice, instead of fighting me for half an hour. Heck, if I didn't know any better, he had just moved a crate from one end of our main barn to the other.

Link was patient and kind. After a few minutes, Link helped me up to my feet and over to the farmhouse, where he got me some water and assessed my condition.

"Rebecca! Y . . . your hand's bleeding!"

I looked down at my right hand and saw glistening red blood coming from a wound on the back. I gasped.

Link had some cloth to dress my wound, which he wound around my hand, gently, as if my hand was a baby bird. When he was done, he lifted my chin with his hand.

"Are you okay now?" His hand brushed my cheek as he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

I hesitated, then pulled away. "I'll be fine . . . sir."

Link smiled. "It's Link."

I withdrew fully and rubbed my hand. "Sir . . ."

"Okay, Link, I finished grooming the horses and—oh." One of the stable workers had just come in and seen Link with his hand still outstretched. She looked hurt as she said, "Well. If I was interrupting anything, I'll just leave."

I stood up and pushed past her. "You weren't interrupting anything, Angelina. He wounded me in sparring, and he was dressing my wound." After a questioning look at Link, I left, but after I closed the door, I remained, my ear to the door.

"Oh, now I get it." A feminine voice, dripping with hatred. Angelina.

"I did NOT wound her on purpose!" A male voice, defensive. Link.

"Oh, yes you did! I've seen you! You favor her over Rheana and me! You let her stay in your guest room, you dress her wounds, you teach her swordsmanship . . ."

"But I did NOT wound her just so I could dress her wound! And I admit that I favor her . . . because she's here for her job, not her boss!" I heard a THUD and plates jiggling; Link must've pounded his fist on the table.

"Hmph!" Angelina said. "I do the work! I just finished grooming the horses! Every single one! You can't say I'm not here for the job!"

I heard Link growl, "I can! You try to impress me! You bat your eyelashes when I compliment you! You buy jewelry on your days off! You wear a dress into town in hopes of me seeing you!"

"You know what? You're a terrible boss!"

"You know what? YOU'RE FIRED!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU CAN'T FIRE ME, I QUIT!"

I heard Angelina pant, then I ran off just as she opened the door and left the building.

Link didn't speak to me at all after that, until evening, when he muttered, "Good night." I went to bed wondering about Rheana, the other stable hand. I knew that Rheana and Angelina had been thick as thieves . . . until Angelina quit. After a heated discussion, Rheana had fled to her room to weep. I knew that Rheana was a nice girl at heart, but was often the subject of peer pressure. Angelina was the only one of the two who loved Link.

I fell asleep thinking about this, and dreamt that Angelina was a bull and Link was a fence, and Angelina rammed into Link.

I awoke to the sound of Ocarina music.

It was a sad tune, and it almost made me cry. After a moment, I realized that it was Link playing. I had looked over and there, on the foot of my bed, perched Link, swaying slowly, like a sapling in the breeze. The moon shone through the open window, illuminating Link as he rocked slowly from side to side. I slowly sat up, and propped myself up using my arms.

"Why're you up?" I asked casually.

Link played a flat note and turned in surprise. Then a look of relief crossed his face. "Oh, you're awake! I thought . . . ah . . . oh, never mind." He turned around so that his entire body was facing me and his legs were crossed, his Ocarina in his lap. "Yes, I'm awake, and I'm awake because . . . well . . . uh . . . I . . ." He looked at my face as if it were stopping him from saying something.

I felt uncomfortable. Just Link and me, in a room lit by moonlight, with Link about three feet away. I scooted backwards slightly. "Sir . . . I . . . ah . . ."

WHSHOOM! There was a bright flash of orange light outside, and we heard evil laughter. I ran to the window and looked outside. There was a gigantic bonfire on the aboveground trade route. I saw the tall figure of a man beside it. He had thrown his head back and was laughing like a maniac.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Link said, "Ganondorf."

I shuddered and leaned against Link, who swayed gently. I fell asleep standing up.