Four months later…

The sunset bell rang in echoing swells through the cavern and the village, another invisible night setting in over Kokiri. Little veins of men crossed the open mountain, passing thousands of their kin, a flowing procession of bodies that curled indiscriminately, like smoke, like magma. They shuffled home, finished with the day's work, hands stained black by the soot of forges or the soil of fields. The metalworks heaved and quieted, red heat pausing to sleep, and the orchards whistled with trapped air from the ventilation holes. Even the market, its constant stream of people endlessly trading and trading back the luxury goods they'd packed and taken to their distant, new home. The stomach of the mountain buzzed with spent energy, and the unanimous, curious thought that slept in the back of every man's mind: That his secret village was getting just a bit crowded.

Inside the Taverna Volta, Malon opened the tap on the night's first keg of ale. She slipped by Hal, the bartender, and her appearance on the pub's floor was greeted with cheers, as always. She carried the mugs with flirtatious grace, bending at the waist to set the drinks down in front of a gathering of miners, their skin mottled with dust and cracked earth. Their tired frowns disappeared at her approach, smiles widening, eyes glued to her every curve. She swept past them, dodging eager hands, and noticed a table filled with exhausted soldiers. Through the thrum of celebration in the bar, she could barely make out what they said, voices almost hushed.

At the table, one of the soldiers, a square-jawed corporal who sat a head taller than the rest put his hand down heavily. "Now you boys understand how sensitive this is. We're not even supposed to know- we're not going to be the idiots who spill it all when the first pretty girl bats her eyes our way. Caldo, I'm looking at you." The soldier named Caldo dropped his head. "Sorry, sir." The corporal shook his head. "Blonde girlfriend, huh? Nothin' but trouble, Private. Believe me. Anyway, this one is staying with us. Right, boys?" The soldiers responded with a resounding "Yes sir!"

Within moments Malon had reappeared, platter of drinks ready, and pulled up a spare stool, leaning over the table and commanding the attention of every man present. "You know the rules, my darlings. No gossip here without my presence. So what's the news?"

The soldiers gaped.

She leaned forward even more, blouse visibly straining against the curve of her breasts.

Caldo's mouth dropped open. There was silence at the table for a moment. Malon sighed. "Oh, I see… you're making me feel so left out. Fine, I'll leave…" She'd hardly moved when the corporal stammered at her. "No, no, it's nothing- just… well, here, we'll tell you. Right, boys?"

This time 'Yes sir!' could be heard from the markets.

Sweat.

Link could feel the sweat acutely, every rivulet as it slipped past each pore, washing his body in a tired, aching cold. He curved his wrist, sword flicking through the air to point at his opponent, a man hidden behind armor.

His eyes were sunken, blinking even as they scanned the other man- who held his sword forward defensively. The tip of the armored man's blade bobbed furiously, as if anticipating motion. "Come on," spoke its wielder. "One more. One more and you can rest."

What followed was a symphony in a second, Link's arm circling as his feet left the ground, blade falling towards the other- the armored man dipped his weapon and slid backwards, raising it again to strike, but this was anticipated, and in came Link, momentum turning him and his sword in an impossibly fast arc, the blade meeting the midsection of the other man in a groaning snap, wood ripping from wood as the steel armor bent inwards.

"Stop!" yelled the armored man. Link dropped the wooden hilt and returned to his starting position.

"Enough. Well done. Go home." Link nodded and left the room.

The armored man waited awkwardly for the swordsman to disappear, then dropped to his knees, spitting up a string of blood that leaked through the slits in his armor. He breathed in deeply, then realizing his helmet was still on, pulled it off to reveal thinly-cropped brown hair, three-days' stubble and blue eyes filled with fear.

He coughed, holding his side where the wooden sword had hit, fingers touching the bent metal of his chestplate. Something incalculable had wielded that sword, strong and newly matured; anything on its face that was youthful and soft long since faded. Now Link seemed less a man and more an animal, or a machine; a weapon. Enzo had never feared anything so much in his life. Four months ago he'd begun his training with Link, along with several of his best men. At that time the man's innate strength and fury impressed them beyond words, the same as his inhuman, untrained stance had choked them with laughter.

So they taught him, at Sheik's request, how to stand, how to move, how to strike and parry. There were times when his overwhelming speed made the lessons frustrating, the swordsman convincing himself that his own flawed tactics were superior- as none could block them, but when they had finally drilled the techniques into his mind, he only improved, much to the chagrin of his sparring partners.

Within a month he'd learned enough to look indistinguishable from his elite teachers, and to defeat them as often as they did him, but only through raw power, he still lacked the finesse granted by decades of training. Only Enzo, far and away the greatest swordsman in the mountain, could consistently foil him, catching all the little flaws in his technique with his skilled eye. This changed within another month, at which point Enzo was the only one skilled enough to compete with Link, and the only one not afraid to cross swords with him, metal or not.

The others had been training him to dodge arrows, an idea that started as an elaborate joke over ale, delivered directly to the infirmary as the poor soldiers treated their wounds from the day's practice with Link. The joke caught Enzo's ear, and by the end of the third month the soldiers had been thanked for their help and dismissed back into their ranks, as not one among them could hope to hit Link in his sleep with a sword or a bow. Enzo had been as grateful for their dismissal as they had, for by the end of that fourth month, there was nothing more he could teach Link; and nothing else he could try to defeat him.

So instead he kneeled in the dirt, wounded and confused, and terrified of this animal he was supposed to train. Fifteen years? The winter was almost over, and by Spring Enzo was sure he'd be useless for such a task. Add to that the fact that the swordsman and the girl were essentially captives…

Enzo groaned. Before Link had arrived time meant little in the mountain village, only useful as an ephemeral marker of the distant war to come. Now it dragged along in a march of humbling days, each more painful than the last.

The captain touched his head to the ground, spent after only an hour of combat, and began to hate the Hero of Time.

Malon stood on top of the bar and whistled, stopping the chatter in the room immediately.

"Alright gentlemen, last call!"

The noise came back in a roar, and the final round went out.

After the last patron filtered out of the crowded bar, Malon collapsed onto a stool, legs sore from standing, and pulled out a little notebook and pen. "Hal, could you get the ink for me?"

The bartender set down the glass he was polishing and chuckled. "Back at it, dear?"

She yawned and flipped to the first blank page. "Always."

Moments later Hal appeared with a well of ink, and set it next to Malon's notebook. "You've got so many damn secrets in that book. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew more about this village than Sheik."

She frowned, scribbling down what she'd learned from the soldiers. "I don't, and that's just the problem. I don't know enough. I still don't know the truth."

Hal was puzzled. "What truth? We're the last of the resistance. We live in a volcano and we grow our food with the power of the Light Medallion. We have an oversized army and a bit of a population problem."

Malon kept writing. "Exactly, and part of that is Sheik's fault."

"Oh, Mal, come on. How's it Sheik's fault the first crop of Deku nuts didn't grow? Underground farming is new technology, if you weren't aware, and…"

"And I'm convinced that Sheik had a hand in that crop not turning out. Think about it: Deku nuts in the diet make it impossible to have children, and because of the overcrowding we put them in about everything we eat. They've been a staple for the past half-year, since the new crop came in… but that first harvest. He wanted it to fail, and because of that, almost every fertile girl older than 16 has a child."

"Yourself not included, of course."

"Shut up, Hal, this is serious."

He laughed and put an arm around her. "No, no! I mean it. You've been here four months, you flirt like it's in your blood- you've got every man that walks through those doors wrapped around your little finger. But you haven't bed one of them! Not even me!"

"Hal, you're old enough to be my father."

"That's beside the point!"

She groaned, and flipped her book shut. "First off, I flirt for information, not attention. Second, everyone who does walk through those doors is a crude, horny soldier, and third..." She trailed off. "Third, you're just picking on me." She picked up her pen and reopened the notebook.

Hal thought for a moment, and then smiled triumphantly. "Don't you mean third, you're in love with the Hero of Time?"

Malon dropped her pen into the inkwell, turning red. "Where the hell did you hear that?!"

He laughed in her face and squeezed her close. "You're not the only one who knows secrets, my little spymaster." He laughed again, and then they sat in silence. Hal began to worry he'd gone too far. "S…sorry, Mal. But, you know… not everyone who comes in here is like that."

She glanced at him, confused.

"I'm not a soldier."

Now it was Malon's turn to laugh. Hal grinned sheepishly as she gave him a tight hug.

"Hal, you took me in, gave me the job I needed, and now you put up with my insane, theoretical detective work. You've been there for me."

He put a hand on her head. "Don't, Malon. You don't need to thank me. Now enough about conspiracies and Deku nuts. Take your book and go rest. You look exhausted."

She gave him another hug, thanked him again and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head before running through the door. He waved after her, watched her leave, and then sat alone in his bar, quietly staring at the wrinkles in his hands.

Malon absentmindedly wandered through the door to her home, and was startled to find Link sitting on his bed, next to hers.

"Link! You're early… I wasn't expecting you to be back for another week."

The training kept Link isolated, for the most part. When they let him wander the mountain they found him unfocused and confused. Now he returned for a day or so to his shared home with Malon every other week. They slept in a tiny room, separate beds crowded together, still fairly chic compared to the average living quarters afforded to the cramped villagers.

She embraced him and they fell back on his bed together, Link already half-asleep but waiting for Malon to come home. She laid her head on his chest, and nothing more was said.

It had been eighteen days since she'd first kissed him, eighteen days since she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his until he realized what she was doing. And he'd kissed her back, hungrily and immediately, and picked her up in his arms, and pushed her against the wall, and kept kissing, until her back began to bend, and he stopped kissing her lips and started biting her neck, harshly, like an animal, so that she began to bleed, and he wouldn't stop until she shrieked and struck him in the face.

Then he dropped her at once, and felt the warmth of blood on his lips and chin, and saw the same terrified look in her eyes as the day they'd met, then illuminated by a burning tree. He ran out of their shared home and disappeared for days, and all her anger was gone by then, because she'd realized that he was something more than he appeared in every conceivable way, and that whatever these men were doing to him was changing him.

Days from then, when he returned, it was with guilty eyes and a head hung low, until Malon took him in her arms and held him. For now, they resigned to waiting.

And so here they lay, suspended in sleep, somewhere in love, teetering on the line between fear and desire.

In her sleep, Malon murmured into Link's ribs.

"We have to… get out of here."

Dark here.

Mystery and intrigue! I'm sure you're all getting tired of Mount Deus Ex, so I think we'll be departing soon. I was very much afraid of writing myself into a corner with this Resistance arc, but I feel in retrospect it was critical to the story, and I think it's set us up perfectly for the real 'meat' of the tale. I'm very happy with the side-characters I've come up with, not including Malon, as she's basically turned into the heroine alongside Link.

I love her character at this point, but I don't know… the story is supposed to be about Link. Hm, hm.

Yes, Deku Nuts are birth control. Sue me. It fit the plot and it would explain why the post-pubescent Kokiri never had kids.

Might I just add that writing a mute character's dialogue is the hardest goddamn part of this story.

I'm going to have to do some radical things with Link as the plot continues. 'Silent badass' is pretty exclusively a game-compatible protagonist, so I better channel some Sergio Leone if I don't want my hero to get boring.

There haven't been any reviews since I came back to TF, and that's fine- I'm writing this for myself, mostly, but there's a decent amount of you reading, so you're all invited to sound off on some of the things I'm doing here.

The travel bug is defeated, and today's chapter is extra long to celebrate. I hope you enjoyed it.