This story is now over a year old. I dropped it almost immediately after I started it because the plot was to be so complex, and the story, by necessity, was to be so long, I didn't think I could muster the will to complete it. But a few days ago, I decided that I might as well try. I like the idea, after all, and it would be a shame to let the work I put into this go to waste. (However, it's highly unlikely that I'll ever finish Guardian of Power. That story as a whole is so naive and many parts are just plain bland.) Also, I've noticed something about my own writing that bugs me: I tend to spend a little too much time describing characters' thoughts, resulting in a sound that I perceive to be inauthentic and redundant. My style, in general, is becoming a little bit bloated overall. Would you agree? Please let me know, as well as provide suggestions as to how I might change that. And one other thing: Chapter 15 was quite clearly M-rated, though I'm hesitant to rate the story as such, since one would then have to manually select the option to view M-rated stories and that would decrease my readership. Feedback?

I think of you,
My friend,
And I do not see
Strange yellow eyes.

I see eyes that are
Kind and
Beautiful,

A spirit so
Graceful and
Strong.

You have endured us,
Accepted us,
Offered your hand to us,
To humankind.
But we, in our ignorance,
Have refused.
Forgive us,

You strong, beautiful person,
Forgive us.

It was simple. Straightforward, but elegant. Just what Zelda thought Nabooru needed to hear. Gleefully, she folded up the piece of paper and put it in her pocket, gliding on silent toes to the door. As she opened it, a sudden, cool air struck her face, and she reveled in it.

This was to be her escape after these two weeks of imprisonment. She liked to think of herself as a wartime prisoner, a respected soldier captured and never to be seen again save for a few enigmatic reminders. She thought of what Link would do when he saw this. An audible squeal nearly escaped her, but she thought better of it, for her mother was still asleep. She took one last look at the time (how did it get to be one-o'-clock?) and shut the door silently behind her. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep herself warm as she walked down the street, devoid of cars. She would have to be more careful about the impression she made entering the school, but for now, at this late hour, she was safe from all eyes.

Between streetlights, everything was silhouetted. She could hear cars in the distance, reminders of her newly found freedom. The idea was still sort of surreal to her. Sneaking out at night to write poetry on the school's sidewalk. Nobody would suspect her, save for those who knew of her passion, like Link and Ghirahim. She mostly kept her poetry to herself. Her mother wouldn't have an inkling. A few cars passed, but she couldn't see the drivers. She was a bit self-conscious, imagining that each one passing was giving her a suspicious glance. "What's she doing out so late?" they must have been saying. She tried not to care. She had a job to do.

When she reached the school, she thought about where the most visible place would be, fiddling with the piece of chalk in her hand. Right in the center of the pavilion would do. Reaching down with the chalk, a bright yellow, she copied in sweeping calligraphy the poem she had drafted. It was perfect.

Ghirahim knew exactly who wrote the poetry. "Clever," he muttered, under his breath. But ineffective. Hopelessly ineffective. Nabooru and Link had both been gone for three days now. He sauntered to chemistry class in their absence. How ironic that Zelda should write this for Nabooru just as she disappeared. The school was enshrouded within an air of fragility, quivering with suspicion and fear; nobody would take kindly to one asking unauthorized questions, but he had to find out what happened. He knew he wouldn't get much information out of Ms. Hopkins, but perhaps Boom would give him some idea. He inquired after class.

"I'm not supposed to tell you," Boom warned.

"I won't tell that you told, if you don't tell that I told you to tell."

"And I won't tell that you told me to tell, if you don't tell that I told you not to tell that I wouldn't tell that you told me to tell."

"I won't tell."

"Are we clear on that?"

"We are clear that...now, let me get this straight...I won't tell that you told if you don't tell that I told you to tell and you won't tell that I told you to tell if I don't tell that you told me not to tell that you wouldn't tell that I told you to tell."

"Excellent!" Boom said, grinning and clapping his hands together. Just as soon, his grin disappeared and was replaced by an expression of utmost seriousness. "They're locked up in an insane asylum." Ghirahim wasn't prepared for what Boom had to say. He was still dancing tentatively on the surface of this fact as Boom barreled on into the unbelievable. "This is what we know so far: Nabooru and Link had some sort of scuffle in the girls' bathroom. A weapon of Gerudo make was involved. There was an incision in Nabooru's arm that seemed to have been the weapon's doing. Laura...that is, Ms. Hopkins, to you...claimed to have walked in to find Link drinking Nabooru's blood from the cut, but most of us think the sight-"

"Could you just let me process this a second?" Ghirahim plopped himself in a chair, his fingers pressed to his forehead. "Okay, now let me get this straight. Link and Nabooru had a fight, a physical fight-"

"Yes."

"And there was a knife involved."

"Yes. Well, a little blade on the end of a gun."

"And Link was drinking..." he cringed at the word. "Nabooru's blood?"

"Rumored to be. You see, two students, of opposite genders, not to mention, bludgeoning each other with little restraint is not exactly what Ms. Hopkins expected to see when going to use the bathroom. Her memory might have been a bit scrambled."

"I can imagine that," Ghirahim started, "But why would the two be fighting?"

Boom's face darkened. "From what the Sheikah tell us, Link was trying to stop Nabooru's suicide attempt."

"Was there a trial?"

"No. They said there were orders from higher up."

"Doesn't that make you think at least part of this was a set-up?"

Boom scoffed. "Oh, come on," he said. "Don't tell me you think there's some sort of conspiracy-" his face blanched. "Ms. Maxwell! Oh, God, oh, God, you're right. Something strange is going on around here."

"Um, no shit."

"We'd better close the school. We're not safe here."

"You'd think that would occur to someone. You know, like, maybe the day Sheikah start streaming in to investigate the kidnapping of a teacher."

"Yeah. So, we looked into the backgrounds of Link and Nabooru, and you know what he found?" He then proceeded to spill all the information he had about Link's captivity, Nabooru's father, the lies she had told the Sheikah interrogator. Ghirahim knew, after that, what his two friends had been through, though luckily spared some of the more gratuitous details of which Link and Nabooru had conversed and over which they had clashed.

He sat, stunned. "I don't think this was supposed to reach my ears," he said slowly, reaching up to feel, self-consciously, his pointed right ear and his rounded left ear. "I'm, um, I think I'll go now."

"Okay, see you tomorrow!" Boom called after him as he left for the door. As soon as it clicked closed behind him, he let his head fall to the desk. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

Outside, Ghirahim tried, as he had numerous times, to call Zelda on his tablet. No answer. She needed to know about where Link was and why. But he would leave it to Link to explain some of the more gruesome truths behind it. On the way to his usual spot for lunch, under a slender birch tree (at which he would now be sitting alone), he saw a girl of about thirteen or fourteen headed in the opposite direction. "You're looking pretty shell-shocked," she commented. "My dad's class too much for you?" Not his class. But his lack of discretion? Yeah, maybe.