"I really think that Link is going through too much trouble for this ball on my account," Zelda said, obligingly holding her arms out so that Impa could take some measurements for the dress. "I don't see why any of my other dresses wouldn't work."
"Zelda, dear," Impa said patiently, efficiently measuring her and scribbling down words on a scrap of paper. "You're the only lady I know who would put up so much resistance to a nice young man asking you to such an event."
"I'm not resisting," Zelda defended, letting her arms fall down to her sides and sighing. "But this is Link. My dearest friend, and my late benefactor's son. Such a relationship would be… highly improper."
"Who's talking about a relationship?" Impa replied, causing Zelda to flush with embarrassment. "I think you care more deeply for Master Link than you let on. It's girls like you that drive men crazy."
"I? Drive Link crazy?" Zelda scoffed, trying to hold back a laugh. The Link she knew was about the most independent, self-assured, and aloof man she had ever met. She found it difficult to believe that any trace of romantic tension troubled his youthful and impetuous mind. Even as her friend, he was still as inscrutable to her as the day he returned from Termina.
Impa scribbled something else down on the slip of paper, carefully examining Zelda. "Hmm… I think a cream-colored dress would suit you best. And maybe a tiara or some gems to put in your hair – you leave it so plain, dear."
"I already feel guilty about this extravaganza, Impa, when there are thousands of Hylians who could use the rupees to provide a meal for their families."
"You care so much for the people," Impa noted softly, smiling. "You would make a better ruler than our king."
Zelda shook her head. "I have not the courage to be a monarch," she said, despising herself for her inability to fight Ganondorf's tyranny. Hating the way she was forced to hide in a luxurious manor, away from the suffering and strife endured by Hyrule.
"You are a strong woman," Impa said, steely eyes softening. "If you had more confidence in your abilities… you would find the strength that I can see already."
The old nursemaid smiled, stepping away from Zelda and examining her critically. "I remember when you were just a child," Impa laughed, eyes shining with memories. "But now you've matured into such a lovely young woman."
Zelda blushed at Impa's comment, feeling rather abashed and not particularly special or beautiful. She was, and always would be, Zelda. Just Zelda.
"If I was Link, I would hold onto you tightly and never let go. Many a jealous noble would seek to whisk you away."
"Really, Impa," Zelda said firmly, brushing away the compliments. "That's mere gossip. Don't go around spreading some silly rumor about Link and I. We are close, and I love him, but as a dear friend."
"You'll break his heart someday," Impa sighed, half jokingly, half seriously. "Poor boy – despite his words, I think Aleron's death has left him more conflicted than he would believe. He needs someone to guide him."
Zelda did not reply, and Impa gathered her measuring tools and paper into her arms. "Well, now, I think that's all for today. I'll put in the order for the seamstress tomorrow – everything should be ready for the ball in a week."
"Thank you, Impa," Zelda said. The old nursemaid bowed. "Is there anything else you require of me?"
"Not presently; you should get some sunshine – you've been holed up in this manor for so long, and today the weather is mild, a rarity in autumn. Winter will come soon, and the start of a new year."
"Another year," Zelda murmured in wonder, already taken aback by how quickly the autumn months had passed. And soon, Goddess Day would mark the start of another year, the hope for renewal and a better life, even if Ganondorf remained as Hyrule's tyrant.
Heeding Impa's advice, Zelda left the room and headed off to the manor's main hall. Rather than exiting out the front entrance, she decided to seek the relative peace of the manor courtyard, which had been one of her favorite haunts as a child. She turned to a small side door, to the left of the main hall, and twisted the brass handle, opening the familiar portal to the courtyard.
Although Zelda had not visited the courtyard in nearly a year, the grove was as she remembered it – one of the manor servants regularly attended it. The few golden and red leaves that remained on the autumn-stricken trees fluttered feebly in the wind, and a blanket of fallen leaves covered the courtyard's ground. In the middle of the grove were several stone benches, beneath the seclusion of a stout Deku-oak.
To Zelda's surprise, she was not alone in the courtyard; Link stood in the middle of the area, sword in hand as he deftly took swipes and cuts through the air at some invisible foe. For a brief moment, she contemplated heading back inside the manor as silently as she had come, but something compelled her to stay. She watched as Link moved with deliberation and concentration, handling his blade as dexterously as a seamstress did with a needle and thread.
As Link did a stabbing thrust, he suddenly turned and leapt high into the air, his sword raised above his head for a cleaving strike. He pounced upon a small stump of wood, coming down upon the unfortunate target with the fury of the Goddesses. With a loud crack, his sword cut cleanly through the block of wood, splitting the log straight through the middle. Zelda let out a small gasp of shock.
Hearing her, Link turned, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his tunic. He smiled brightly, sheathing his sword and calling out to her: "Zelda! How long have you been spying on me?"
"I have not been spying on you," she replied in a dignified manner, walking forward and sitting with deliberation on one of the stone benches. Link seemed humored by her graceful reply, his grin perking into a handsome half smile.
"Then why are you here today, milady?"
"I was hoping to get some peace and quiet in the courtyard," she said, watching as Link took a deep swig from a flask of water. "Why are you training?"
"A good knight always keeps himself ready," Link declared. Zelda raised an eyebrow in skepticism.
"Are you trying to get another crossbow bolt in your leg?"
"No, no, I'm not planning on anything 'rash,' as you would say– I gave you my word, didn't I, that I would not go out seeking trouble?"
"Can you even train properly with your wound?" Zelda asked pointedly.
"It's healed quite well, thanks to you," Link said, putting some weight on his leg for emphasis. "Thank the Goddesses that it wasn't infected – otherwise, how could I take you to the ball?"
"Speaking of the gala," Zelda said, voicing a small, uncomfortable nagging doubt in the back of her mind, "why are you taking me? I'm sure any other lady would have gladly gone with you."
Link sat down next to her, his face merely inches away. "Because, Zelda, there is no other lady dearer to me than you. I'll never forget when we were children – you always wanted to be the Princess that was rescued by her knight."
"That was a long time ago," Zelda said, cheeks faintly pink. Link grinned.
"You're right. Now, I think you would not be content being the damsel in distress. Tell me, Zelda, have you ever learned to use a sword?"
"No," she replied truthfully. In fact, she had never used any weapon, period, except perhaps brandishing a stick at Link when they were children.
"Well, would you like to?" Link stood from the bench and offered her his sword. Slowly, Zelda reached up and grasped the weapon's gilded handle. It was cold, hard to the touch, and much heavier than she was expecting; she had to hold it in both of her hands to keep it steady.
Link nodded approvingly. "Swing it around a few times. Get used to its weight and handling."
Feeling slightly foolish, Zelda swung the sword in an arc, its unexpected weight throwing her off balance. The sword's blade hit the ground with a clang, bouncing off of stone.
"That's alright," Link said encouragingly, as she recovered from the botched hit. "You're still getting used to its balance. It's quite heavy, so don't be dismayed if you can't wield it effectively. It takes much practice to use a sword properly – actually, a lighter rapier would probably work better for you."
Zelda watched as Link sprinted back inside the manor, leaving her quite alone in the courtyard. In his absence, she tried swinging his sword with several practice cuts, but her efforts resulted in less than spectacular results. Zelda marveled at the fact that Link could wield this blade in one hand, and fight with almost effortless grace.
Link returned quickly, bearing in his hands a longer, thinner sword – a rapier. He handed it to Zelda, exchanging the light weapon for his own blade. The rapier was light enough for Zelda to wield in one hand; she took several tentative swings, noting how much more control she had over the new weapon.
"That should work," Link said, sounding delighted that she had found a sword to wield. He quickly readjusted her grip on the hilt, before stepping back and assuming his role as the teacher.
"Get a good feel on the balance of the sword – good," Link said, as Zelda swiped at the air with the rapier. "The rapier is more of a stabbing weapon, however – not so good for cuts and chops."
Link lunged forward, his sword stabbing horizontally. Zelda imitated him; she stabbed with the rapier, although with less finesse than even Link's heavier blade. The young knight smiled, taking no heed of her discouragement.
"Keep your balance on the balls of you feet, but shift your weight and momentum into the point on your sword," he explained, bouncing on his feet for emphasis. "That way, you'll strike with accuracy and force, without tripping over."
Zelda did her best to balance herself, before lunging forward once more. The rapier sliced through the air, better than her first attempt, although she nearly fell over in the process.
Link smiled, coming behind her and adjusting her grip on the sword hilt with strong, guiding hands. "That's more like it," he said encouragingly, his warm breath tickling her cheeks. Zelda blushed and was glad when Link pulled away, allowing her another practice thrust with the rapier.
How long they spent in the courtyard, practicing sword technique, Zelda couldn't say. Perhaps two hours, or three at most. But for some reason, the feel of a sword in her hand, the presence of Link, gave her the feeling that she was doing something. Learning something that she might be able to use one day, an actual technique to defend herself. She practiced the sword swipes and stabs with relish, undaunted by mistakes, because Link was always there to correct her.
By the end of their session, the sun had begun its slow descent in the west, and she had quite ably mastered simple stabbing motions with the rapier. She was already eager to practice parrying with Link, but he refused to move at a faster tempo.
"You're a bit too overzealous," he laughed, as exchanged several slow, easy parries with her. "The skill will come in time, with practice. If you truly enjoy swordplay, I would be happy to teach you."
"I would like that very much," Zelda said, eagerly, and Link smiled as she knocked at his blade playfully.
"It's getting late," Link said softly, and with a slightly disappointed air, Zelda ceased her practice and returned the rapier to him. He regarded her for several seconds, eyes alight in amusement.
"You know, Zelda, I've never regarded you as a tomboy," he said, smiling, "but there's a raw passion beneath that lady-like exterior."
"Is that wrong?" she asked, slightly defiantly, as they headed back inside the manor, the sun quickly falling from the sky.
"Of course not," he assured her, his pleasant voice oddly warming. "In fact, I rather like it."
No matter how hard she tried, Zelda could not wipe the flush of pink from her cheeks. She later attributed it to the cold, much to Link's amusement.
Link rubbed the familiar Deku-wood of his longbow, feeling the fine grains and craftsmanship of his weapon. It felt good to be out again, cloaked by the nighttime shadows, longbow and sword close at hand. It felt good to be the hunter.
A small feeling of guilt passed through his mind, remembering Zelda, but he banished the thought. He was fighting for the Hylian people, providing a beacon of hope for the oppressed nation. And he was fighting to restore the true monarchy, the princess, his Zelda. Surely that was worth his life?
Regardless, he decided to keep his vigilante activities unknown to Zelda for the time-being; he did not want to cause her undue worry, especially after his promise not to seek trouble. Once more, unbidden, a surge of guilt washed through his mind.
What if he was arrested? What if he was killed?
What if Zelda woke up to the sight of his body hanging in front of the manor?
What would happen to her?
For a second, such unsettling thoughts shook Link's mind, and the irrational fear to return back to the manor nearly overcame him. Then, he angrily shook his fears away, regaining his composure. There were no "what-ifs," because Link knew that he was in his element; he would always be in control during a battle, always confident that his skills would carry him through. The thought of losing to Ganondorf's thugs never even registered as a possibility in the young knight's mind.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Link peered down at Castle Town's market square, far below the roof he was perched on. At this time of night, the majority of the citizenry were holed up in their homes, leaving control of the streets to troops of patrolling guards. Unfortunately for the guards, Link was always on alert, watching from the rooftops and keeping each patrol under strict observation.
Link did not ambush every patrol he found – senseless bloodshed was as bad as Ganondorf's oppression, and it was nearly impossible to distinguish innocent guardsmen from the truly debauched ones. But, whenever Ganondorf's brutes stepped out of line, Link was there to put them back in place.
One patrol in particular caught Link's eye, as he surveyed Castle Town from atop the rooftops. A convoy of guards, arranged in two columns, slowly snaking its way through the deserted streets. In the middle of the convoy was a wagon overflowing with shining steel: weapons and armor, spears and helmets, items to stock Ganondorf's armories and equip his soldiers.
Link weighed his options. The wagon had a reasonable amount of weapons and armor, probably enough for a troop of Ganondorf's guards. Only ten guards escorted the wagon, with one driver and the patrol leader riding alongside on a horse. And Link had the element of surprise.
The knight smiled, a feral predator's grin. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, shadowing the convoy's movement through the dark city. The familiar rush of adrenaline was already pumping in his veins. He easily drew an arrow from his quiver, fitting the projectile to his bow while keeping his eyes on the target. The convoy moved on, unaware of the shadow that stalked them from above.
The driver of the wagon would naturally be the first target, in order to stop the wagon completely. As Link drew the bowstring back, he sighted down the driver, aiming directly between the man's shoulder blades. With a sharp twang, Link fired, watching as the projectile flew through the air and embedded itself right on target. The driver slumped from his seat, falling lifelessly to the ground, causing the wagon to come to an abrupt halt.
Instantly, before Link had even begun to draw his next arrow, the guards surrounding the wagon broke ranks and fled in different directions, already panicked. The leader spurred his horse away from the scene, as cowardly as his troops. Link frowned, replacing the arrow back in his quiver. It struck him as odd how fast the soldiers had fled, and especially strange that the officer had been so quick to abandon the cache of weapons. Perhaps his nighttime raids were fraying the nerves of Ganondorf's men.
Quickly sweeping the area to ensure that the last of the guards had fled, Link leapt from the rooftop to rooftop until he was low enough to drop directly onto the city streets. Silently, he padded down through the empty streets, towards the abandoned wagon. The cache of weaponry glinted in the moonlight, steel blades twinkling like the stars. Link paused as he examined the wagon carefully, whistling at the load of weapons the guards had been transporting.
On impulse, Link swept around the wagon's sides to the driver whom he had shot. The man's fate was regrettable – he was only a driver, not necessarily evil, and perhaps did not deserve to die. Link stared forlornly at the broken figure at his feet before he noticed something odd: there was no blood.
Startled, Link kicked the body over so that he could look at the driver closer. A cold lump settled in his stomach as he looked at the face of the dead "man." Two eyes made from brass buttons, stitched onto cloth.
Link swore and rolled to the side, even as a silver knife cut past him in the dark and embedded itself in the decoy driver. As Link recovered, drawing his sword, he heard a piercing cry to his left. He turned, reacting just in time to save himself from decapitation. There was a flash of silver and his sword arm shuddered from the impact. Reeling from shock, Link retreated from his foe, stumbling backwards, suddenly forced onto the defensive.
His attacker twirled a pair of cruel, curved scimitars in the air, regarding him with burning red eyes. A chill went through Link's spine as he identified his foe.
Gerudo.
With a shout, the warrior-woman leapt forward, much faster and more lithely than Link would have thought possible, bringing her swords down in a cleaving strike. Link flipped backwards, the scimitar blades coming within inches of his face.
Before he had even gained solid footing, the Gerudo was pressing her attack once more, rushing forward and raining several blows down on him. Link parried the attacks as well as he could, barely dodging those he could not. The speed and skill of the Gerudo astounded Link – never before had he come against such an implacable and resolute foe.
Ducking under a swipe that would have taken off his head, Link jabbed feebly at the Gerudo, causing her to retreat. At least he had cleared some space, and given himself a moment to assess the situation. He had been completely outclassed by the Gerudo's swordplay, forced onto the defensive the entire skirmish. At the moment, it appeared as if the Gerudo was fighting alone – but, more could be on their way or hiding in the shadows, and Link could barely hold his ground against one, much less a squad of them.
He grit his teeth, raising his sword, even as the Gerudo came at him again, unwilling to give him time to rest or regain his senses. She twirled her twin blades in unison, creating an impenetrable barrier of steel. Link retreated, hating himself as he fell back against such a skilled foe. The Gerudo continued to advance, and it was clear that she was much faster than he. Retreat was out of the question.
Link drew a dagger from his belt, hurling it at the Gerudo in desperation. The desert warrior skillfully blocked the attack, deflecting the dagger away with one strike. Eager to press the brief opening in her defenses, Link lunged with his sword. The Gerudo turned the strike away with her other scimitar, using the jagged edges to catch his blade in a lock. Smiling victoriously, the Gerudo brought her other scimitar down to cleave open Link's skull.
The young knight dropped his sword, rolling backwards in time to avoid death. As the Gerudo discarded his blade, Link swiftly drew his bow and knocked an arrow to the string. Even as the Gerudo started forward, he fired, sure that he could not miss at such a close target.
Incredibly, the Gerudo rolled to the side, the arrow barely grazing her shoulder and causing a trickle of blood. Now growling, the Gerudo charged at Link before he could fit another arrow to his bow.
Oh Goddesses, Link thought, dropping his bow with a clatter to the ground.
He anticipated the first strike, ducking beneath it and landing a solid blow in the Gerudo's stomach before she could make the follow-up attack. As the Gerudo reeled, he drew an arrow from his quiver and jabbed at her thigh. The Gerudo screeched, a keening cry that echoed through the empty streets of Castle Town. Even as she scrambled to her feet, tugging the arrow free from her thigh, Link had recovered his bow and already fitted another arrow to it.
He fired, watching dispassionately as the projectile buried itself into his foe's chest. A crimson flower blossomed over the white garb worn by the Gerudo as she struggled feebly to pull the arrow out. Link watched in grim satisfaction as she went down, falling to her knees and glaring at him with dying eyes.
"You… you…" the Gerudo was panting heavily, eyes beginning to roll up in their sockets. "Long live King Ganondorf!"
In her last moment of defiance, the warrior threw one of her scimitars at Link. He dodged to the side, falling onto the rocky pavement and feeling the scimitar fly above him. There was a loud crack, and Link turned: the scimitar had buried itself completely in a wooden post, splitting the wood nearly in half.
Link gasped, hauling himself to his feet and keeping his eyes locked on the slain Gerudo, still unsure if she was completely dead. His sword had fallen only several feet from his foe's corpse, lying innocently on the bloodstained ground. Feeling naked without his blade, Link scrambled forward, relishing the feel of cold steel in his sweaty hands.
The convoy… the wagon… it had all been staged, Link mused, looking down upon the body of the dead Gerudo. For a moment, he was too filled with elation over his continued survival, but then the reality of the situation came.
Ganondorf knew of him, was actively trying to hunt him down. Link never would have suspected that the convoy was mere bait, would never have believed Ganondorf's troops could lay such an intricate plan. And his overconfidence had nearly been his folly – only luck had saved him from his would-be assassin.
Link glanced down once more at the Gerudo, oddly disturbed that he had been bested so thoroughly in single combat. He had always dismissed Zelda's tales of the Gerudo as mere propaganda, but now…
A single Gerudo had proven his equal. How would he fare if the entire pack came to hunt him?
