Alright, sorry for taking so long, I've had a lot going on. Please forgive my tardiness. I am trying to get a second job, handle changing circumstances at my current job, and trying to write a dozen or so fanfictions and two or three novels, so please continue to have patience with me.
Malon cradled her arms around herself as she recalled the horrible scene she had witnessed. On the other side of the small fire that marked their campsite Link and Rusl were having a somewhat one-sided conversation. Meaning that Rusl did most of the talking while Link answered in grunts, shaken heads and one words responses. As she watched the two of them, trying to distract herself from the images running through her head, she noticed that Link kept glancing over at her, as if to check how she was holding up. Whenever he caught her eyes, she found that she couldn't look away, as if his deep blue orbs were some kind of magnet. It was always Link who looked away first, drawn away by something Rusl was saying. She was beginning to wonder if he was trying to catch her gaze now. The thought distracted her from the grisly images quite effectively as she began thinking about how Links arm had felt. Underneath the loose shirt he wore was hard muscle, unlike so many of the nobles who had tried to court her. Their billowy shirts had concealed only the fat arms and belly of high class living. Their fingers had been soft and well manicured, unused to hard labor or the harsh grip of the sword. Links were rough, callused, and scarred from a lifetime of fighting and surviving. But Malon had no idea what Links palms felt like. The fingerless gloves he wore prevented that. As she looked down at her own hands, she wondered if those palms would be as callused and scarred as the fingers they supported, or would they be softer, having been encased in those gloves so much? As she thought about it, she slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.
/
For Braden and his three hundred Sheikah, the second day of fighting was just as pleasing as the first. Once again, aside from a few wounds, the Strikers had escaped with no significant casulties. As Braden once again walked among his men, he paused as he looked at one man who was tying a piece of cloth around his calf, where a large gash ran down the side of his grieve.
"Shad, I trust that scratch won't slow you up too much." Shad looked up at his commander.
"Not too much sire. I'll still be able to fight. Besides, most likely it'll be me who carries the tale of this battle back to our people." the comment garnered a laugh from the Strikers close enough to hear. It was a well known fact that Shad was an excellent story teller, and his passion lay in the spinning of ballads and tales than in the arts of combat, though that did not mean he was any slouch in a battle. Braden laughed with the others for a moment before sobering up.
"Shad, I want you to take the horse we kept with us, and camp on the hill just inside the Red Gates. When the last of us falls, I want you to ride." Shad looked at him for a moment.
"I understand sire." he said as he finished tying off the makeshift bandage.
/
Brandon looked down from the top of the gate, thinking about the history of the great fortress he now stood in. The place had been built by an ancient race, long since extinct, and appeared to be carved out of solid granite. No army had ever been able to breach the walls themselves during the thousand years that Hyrule had been in existence, though the outer gates had been smashed off their hinges several times. More recent structures outside the walls told the stories of prior sieges, burnt catapults and rams, as well a massive boulders blocked much of the potential ground to fire projectiles from. And as Brandon gazed out across the plain before him, knowing that the terrain was too rough for siege weapons anywhere other than on the road, he grinned savagely, knowing that Ganondorf would have to send his troops up the walls on ladders. The worst possible way to try to take the fortress. Turning away from the plain, he focused in on the activity taking place inside the walls. In the large space between the outer wall and the keep, thousands of refugees had set up tents and other temporary shelters. While the adults worked to make as much of a meal as they could for their families, the children ran about, playing with each other.
Making his way down into the makeshift city, Brandon wove through the various clusters of tents and lean-to's, simply observing the people as they went about their tasks. Every now and then a villager or townsman would acknowledge his monarch, but for the most part they were caught up in their own worries. Nearer to the keep he could see a group of heavily armored soldiers handing out bread to those who did not have enough. As he drew closer he recognized them as the Mountain Guard, soldiers who normally defended the passes behind Hyrule Castle. Their captain, Bairns by name, had often brought a few of his soldiers down to train with the regulars, and had occasionally sparred against the royal brothers as well. At Brandons approach, Bairns glanced up.
"You majesty, good to see you well." his voice was loud and rough, but bore more good nature in it than seemed possible.
"Good to see you too Bairns. I trust you've been keeping well." the man laughed heartily for a moment before grinning at the prince.
"I tell you, even if that big oaf and his armies do manage to break through your brothers forces, he'll be so weakened that the Mountain Guard'll have nothing left to do." Brandon's smile, which had been firmly planted on his face since seeing Bairns, now faltered, and concern took its place.
"I don't think that will be the case. Ganondorf sends his full might against us, and not even the Sheikah Strikers can last long against it. We've had three days of peaceful travel, if hurried. And we've had no sign that the Strikers have fallen, so we have at least another two to three days before Ganondorf and his armies reach us. Do you have any word on what preparations have begun?" Bairns was silent for a moment, a look of concern passing over his face.
"None that I'm aware of sir." Brandon nodded slowly.
"Then we must remedy that."
/
Ganondorf was furious. His finest generals had failed to kill any of the accursed Sheikah, and so had been executed. Now he was beginning to run short on generals to throw at the valleys entrance. He had at least two proven generals available, but Agahnim was away with his bull riders, and Zant was currently engaged with protecting the supply train that was only now bringing up his siege engines. Looking around he could see that all his officials were engaged elsewhere, many in positions that only they could fill. Finally he could take it no longer. Pointing at a nearby soldier, he gave his orders to his White Guard.
"Bring that man here!" the soldier was brought to him, and forced down to his knees. Ganondorf glared down at him for a moment before speaking. You are now the general in charge of destroying the Sheikah. Do not fail me." the soldier paled, but bowed low none the less, then was taken away to be outfitted. Ganondorf sunk back into his chair, massaging his brow to ward off the rapidly developing headache.
"No matter how many soldiers it takes, no matter how many generals I have to execute, I will destroy this puny nation that has defied me." he thought.
/
For Link, sleep refused to come. The feeling of that girls body pressed against him had awoken something he had never felt before. He knew the feeling well, despite his families thinking to the contrary, as he had felt it once before. He was falling for this foreign princess. And the fact irritated him. Sitting up, he rubbed his brow with two fingers, trying to get the headache he'd had since that girl had come into his life. Finally, seeing that the headache wasn't going away, he got up and walked away from the campsite, pausing to pick up a few of his weapons. Then he was gone. Disappearing into the darkness of the night. As he walked, skills long since become natural began to make an appearance. The lack of sound that normally came with movement as he slipped across the open grassland. The rapid movement from the slightest cover to slightest cover, disappearing almost completely in seemingly nonexistent shadows. The keen eyes that spotting the movement of the small hare creeping back to its den, or the movement of a snake, winding its way through the grass. These were the skills that had kept him alive. They were abilities that made the mountain wargs fear Bo's children. And now he used them to relieve his troubled mind. Focusing on other things, or nothing at all. He let his feet carry him where they would, and dealt with the consequences when they came.
I hope that this will at least keep your interest strong. Thank you for your faith in me, and I will make every effort to live up to that faith.