Intermission

Zelda:

Three days later she rode through the castle gate. Zelda had been loath to leave the camp and her wounded soldiers behind but she could not wait any longer. Her father's reinforcement had come as she had asked, bringing supplies and medicine. Her people would be able to heal until they were fit to travel again.

She had restored herself after the magic had desiccated her, had overseen the funeral rites for the 24 dead and had organized the rest of the troop. News of what she'd done had of course spread like wildfire. She had barely been able to move without someone trying to receive her "blessing". It had made her most uncomfortable and it was the only reason she was glad that she had left.

Josy, the woman she had… healed (it sounded so wrong in her head) now had a chance. Her physician had explained that the hole in her lung had miraculously closed. The outer wound was still there, she had lost a lot of blood and there was still a lot of it to be coughed up, before her lung could work properly again. Before she had left, Josy had said her first words. Hardly anything intelligible, understandably, more like feverish ramblings, but it was a start.

As she rode into the courtyard, accompanied of course by a sizeable gaggle of household knights, she looked around. Hyrule castle. High walls of smooth stone with constantly manned battlements, dozens of people working in the stables, the kitchen, the carpentry, royal guards being drilled by their sergeant… Even though it had always made her feel caged behind its walls, she felt immense relieve being back.

In front of the main gate stood Lord Holling, the king's lord chamberlain as welcoming committee. She had to smile briefly. Her father apparently had had mercy on her and hadn't staged a long winded, opulent reception.

She got off the horse, a little out of practice, and patted it thankfully. Her thighs were sore, but she had enjoyed her ride nevertheless. Of course they had wanted to transport her in that hideous carriage, but she had been in a commanding mood and had decisively put her foot down. Apparently news of her new found attitude had spread around as well because no one had argued for long. Saria was riding it back, currently. She had been none too happy about travelling in that monster alone, to put it carefully. Zelda would probably get a double dose of sarcasm once she got here.

She handed the reigns to the stable master and walked briskly towards the gate.

Lord Holling greeted her with a noble smile and a bow.

"Good morning, your highness. I was deeply worried to hear of your complications on the road." The elderly man said in a nasal voice his majestic moustache quivering.

'Complication', Zelda noted, raising an inner eyebrow. To this man anything that didn't directly concern him or this castle mattered little. To him a meteorite shower would probably 'heavy rain', as long as it happened somewhere else.

"I thank you, Lord Holling. The complications have claimed many a life, sadly." she couldn't refrain from saying.

The old noble didn't even move a muscle. He probably hadn't even heard.

"Might I suggest you take some time for refreshment, your highness? I have ordered Millie to prepare a bath for your pleasure."

Zelda had always suspected that every girl under this man's iron rule was named Millie, simply because he would not see the point in dignifying a servant by learning her name. Nonetheless, a bath did sound tempting… but that had time.

"I would speak to my father. Surely he is expecting me?" she said, a little uncertain. Was he?

"Naturally, your highness. He has worried greatly for your safety. But…" and for the first time the elderly lord's face showed an emotion: olfactory disapproval.

"Your majesty's journey has been a long one. And you have elected to come on horseback." He nosed.

With a sudden pang of self consciousness Zelda realized how awful she must smell. Her last proper wash had been in Ord and now she had ridden a whole day in this heat. She probably reeked of horse.

Sheepishly she let herself be led away into her chambers. She whipped off her dress and undergarments and practically jumped into the bathtub, earning a slight frown from the older and a stifled giggle from the younger maid. They washed her thoroughly, brushing her with sponges until her skin was pink and sparing no spot on her body. With a slightly ashamed (and a slightly painful) feeling she realized how tangled her usually smooth hair must have gotten. The maid muttered something under her breath about 'not brushing such hair, it's a crime'.

Lying in the warm water, feeling it caressing her skin and sooth her tense muscles, she wondered how her meeting with her father would be. They hadn't seen each other in 12 weeks…

She reluctantly got up, enjoying the feeling of water droplets running down her body. I have dallied enough, Zelda thought. I need to see my father.

Zelda waked briskly towards his father's library, where he spent most of his alone time. She was about to knock on the heavy oak door when one of the two royal guardsmen cleared his throat. "Shall I announce you, your highness?"

She nearly rolled her eyes. Ceremony, she thought derogatorily. It annoyed her immensely that she of all people couldn't just enter her father's room when she knew he was expecting her. During her travel she had been in charge. At least officially, she added glumly in her thoughts. It had been so much easier in its simplicity.

"Please do." She finally managed.

Her father's study was a high room, its walls lined with full bookcases that extended almost to the ceiling. In the middle was his desk, where he sat with his back to the sun. As she entered (with the o so important announcement) he stood up, walked towards her and, to her surprised, embraced her and held her tightly.

Instinctively she embraced him back, but it felt a little unaccustomed.

Zelda loved her father, in a distant sort of way, as she was certain he loved her. He was not someone who cherished closeness. She had accepted that long ago. This embrace was the closest they had been for years.

He released her and looked at her face.

"You seem to have grown. And you are as beautiful as your mother." he said with unusual affection.

Zelda couldn't say anything, instead looked down abashedly.

Then he turned around quickly as if that brief show of fondness was no embarrassing him. She watched him sit back behind his desk. His beard was a tad longer, but it was still neatly groomed. Possibly there were even more white strains in his hair than when she'd left.

"Now tell me! I want to hear a full report of the incidence from your lips also. Please."

And he bade her to sit before his workplace, the enormous table between them. Time for pleasantry was over, it seems, she thought dryly.

She sat and first gave a brief summary of how her first diplomatic mission to the Rito had gone. It had been little more than a training exercise with no real stakes attached.

Then she gave an accurate account of the happenings from the Bokoblin attack onwards. Naturally she omitted her adventuring in Ord village and Link. She had to stifle a tiny giggle at the utterly nonplussed face her father would have, if she told him that she had investigated a sooty smithy with a same-aged boy. Alone.

She spoke of that nightmare inducing night where her visions had for the first time given her a glimpse of the future, even if it had been just a few seconds. She described the terrible onslaught of the darkness her company had had no hope of defeating and the inexplicable talent she had shown when everything seemed lost.

She further explained her actions after, reporting her efforts of reorganizing her devastated retinue and her healing of a soldier using her newly found powers.

The king listened intently and did not interrupt her until she was finished.

He thought for a moment, stone faced, then said: "I thank you for your report. I will have to think on this. You are certainly tired from your… ride."

Zelda was dumbfounded. That had sounded like she was being dismissed, like an ill-behaved child!

"What?" she only managed, not wanting to believe it.

The king looked up at her again and calmly said: "You have done your duty and have prevailed even when it was dangerous. You are my daughter."

Zelda had to fight back her outrage. She had hoped to at least hear a clear word of praise for her commanding skills but now realized that had been a childish expectation. But to be shown the door when she had obviously been the target of an unprecedented attack… an attack that she had repelled, no less!

"What will be done about this unknown shadow? What will you do about Bokoblins in the heartlands? What about this, this magic that I have?" she pressed out, her discontent barely concealed.

Her father looked at her with his calm, nigh expressionless face. "Investigations will be conducted by my agents everywhere, I will personally scour every promising book for relevant information and I will discuss strategy with my general staff. None of which need concern you."

Zelda couldn't believe what she heard. Why was he so intent of keeping her away from this matter, in which she had already been dangerously involved? Did he not trust her? Was she still just a child in his eyes?

She had no doubt that whatever he did, it was to protect her. But she felt like she was being sent to her room for being a bad girl!

"I will not be so backhandedly excluded from this. This is clearly involving my person and I insist on taking part in investigating the origin of this threat." She said standing up, her voice getting louder without her meaning to.

Her father still sat idly. His voice had possibly gone even calmer when he answered. "And I insist otherwise. I will not risk your direct involvement. You will be kept informed on our progress, if that is your wish."

Zelda was damn near ready to jump over the table and claw his face. "So I am supposed to do what? Frolic in the gardens? Practice my sewing? Remain blissfully ignorant while there was an attempt on my life?" she had given up all semblance of being calm.

"If that is your wish. You are well protected and I will solve this mystery. I thank you for your offer to help, but it will not be necessary." He pronounced coldly.

Zelda stared at his steely blue eyes, furiously. She was about to turn on her heel and walk away when he spoke again.

"One more matter. I forbid you from researching or experimenting with your newly found power."

"WHAT?" she yelled.

"You said it yourself, my daughter. The two times you have used it, it resulted in you being unconscious and sickened. I will not let you put your health in peril for a force we have no understanding of. Rest assured, my scholars will investigate that matter also. And please, don't refer to it as magic. Magic is the power of beasts, not that of Hylia."

Zelda's rage was flooded by a wave of sheer disbelief. "Every sentient race, Zora, Goron, Rito, all of them exhibit magical talents from time to time." she said, hopelessly.

"Indeed. Further proving that they are closer to the beastly races than us."

"Hylian bigotry!" Zelda thought, disgusted. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She looked back at her father, still sitting reclined in his chair.

"You can not forbid me to at least conduct bookwork on my… talent. Please." She had found her calm voice again, even if it was elusive.

"I am afraid, I must! You said your power has been conjured by your visions. You explained to me that seeing, hearing, smelling and even reading can evoke these images in your mind and that you were near powerless to stop them, as it was with your mother. You might trigger something within you while studying, without even wanting to. It is too dangerous." the king explained with his cold, cast-iron voice.

Zelda gave up. Not on her plans, of course, but on reasoning with this man. He might mean well but Zelda didn't care right now. She would not allow his short-sightedness to impede her learning about herself.

She strut away from his desk with all the dignity she could muster. She had to fight back her tears.

"I will take my dinner in my room. I doubt I am worthy of a place at your table." She hissed scathingly.

The king did not even comment.

She stormed back to her chambers. Twelve weeks she had been the leader of a retinue, had held responsibility. She had parlayed with the elder of an allied race, she had shown her people her benevolence, she had fought and won a battle against an unknown enemy and had picked up the shambles afterwards.

And now she was reduced back to this! Sent away like a child to once again play the role of pretty princess, like a mindless jewel to be kept in a box and sometimes shown off.

She slammed the door to her bedchamber and fell on her bed.

This time she didn't fight back her tears.

Link

6 weeks later had passed since he had started to take training seriously and it showed. While he had always had an athletic build, his body was now very well defined. Whenever he ran past the laundry pool during his exercise (18 rounds by now, by the way) the women and girls strangely stopped what they were doing for a few seconds and watched…

Sir Russel crashed onto the ground for at least the 4th time today. Strangely, the more Link battered him, the happier the poor old man seemed to become. He had made him remember that it had taken him 4 manoeuvres to land a hit on Link. Now the tables had turned. More often than not it was Link who struck his mentor now, although the old knight always seemed to have more tricks up his sleeve.

Link walked up to him, grabbed his hand and helped him up. Tough as he was, the youth could see that the constant punishment was taking its toll on the man. But of course his pride would never let him admit that.

"Not bad!" he panted. "Good form. A little bit too much forward lean but other than that…" he nodded appreciatively.

Link couldn't help but smile. The training with those goddess-damned weights had paid off greatly. Whenever he switched from that ridiculous meat cleaver to his real steel, he thought he was holding little more than a feather. On his teachers command he had now stopped training with "Bertha" and they were focusing on sparring above all else.

"One more time!" the knight commanded.

They got back into position. Link waited. He had found that he slightly preferred initial defence and to react and counter. The only problem was that the old bear had a similar tactic. They circled one another for about ten seconds before Link lost patience. He stepped forward and jabbed once from both left and right, redirected Sir Russel's high horizontal slash over his head and leaned in for a low strike. The old knight stepped close to stop Link's arm with his side and wanted to plant a short swing in his student's side. Link reacted quick, turning his whole body and bringing his sword back up so the tip faced downwards and so, in turn, blocking his mentor's blow. The lad turned his defence into attack by scraping his steel along Sir Russel's arm and then cutting at the tendons in his armpit. That would be a hit. The whole exchange had taken two seconds.

Sir Russel grinned broadly, rubbing his punished axilla. "Good! I told you not to lean forward so much, I nearly got you there! Still, I believe you are already a dangerous enemy at the tourney, Link."

Link nearly burst with pride and actually felt his eyes well up a bit. That had been the first time when he wasn't just "Boy" during all their training.

"Now don't go all wishy-washy. We still have one week before we leave for the city and we'll need it. If you feel like getting cocky, remember that I'm almost four times your age, boy. You won't fight old rust-buckets like me during the tournament!"

Link knew that to be true, of course. He had not forgotten his humiliating defeat at the hands of that noble brat, Halvor. Even though he had fought dirty, he had still been in a wholly different class. Back then, at least.

One more week until their departure… Link could hardly wait!

On his way home he reflected on what he had learned today. While slow and gruelling at first, he could now easily see the substantial progress he had made in those few weeks. He smiled to himself.

Thankfully no more attacks had occurred. He had been hesitant about leaving the village together with the resident knight, if the threat of Bokoblin raids loomed overhead. But now they hadn't heard of any such disturbance for a while. Additionally, the king had sent four soldiers to each village along the north road to guard against attacks. While the fact that this had to be done was worrying in its own right, it had come as a relief overall. According to the oldest of the village such guard presence hadn't been necessary since about 50 years…

He also hadn't dreamed about Zelda. …except when he did, Link added in his thoughts, slightly blushing at the thought. Some of these dreams ended a little embarrassingly. Thank Farore's mercy, no one was around right now.

The following day he finally finished the blade he had been forging with the help of his father. Between mistakes that had to be corrected and his other work, it had taken altogether too long to at last see the final outcome. It was a simple sword, almost completely unadorned. A sword for being used, not one for hanging above someone's chimney. It had a sleek, razor sharp blade, a plain but practical guard, the wooden grip was wrapped in soft leather and the pommel was of ideal dimensions. Link was fiercely proud of his first finished product. It would not have come out nearly as professional without André's help, of course, but it still was his work.

His father once again took it, checked its straightness (Link's heart had nearly burst with nervousness after the quenching, the last moment when any warping could be fixed), checked the evenness of the grinding and sharpening he had done (he had been painfully careful not to introduce any asymmetry that would have spoiled the whole blade) and gave it a few measured swings to check its balance (Link had measured the dimensions of the pommel himself, hoping that his eyeballing would turn out the right weight). Link looked at André, holding his breath.

Finally he nodded a few times and gave an approving growl.

"Yes!" Link exclaimed happily. His father allowed him a slight smile and handed the blade back to him. "There you go. You earned it."

Link took the handle, confused. "What do you mean?"

His father had a sly expression on his face. "No swordsman should go travelling without a blade of his own. Especially no son of mine. You forged your own sword. Congratulations!"

Link nearly dropped it in shocked surprise. A sword of his father's smithy could be worth a few modest houses! This was an immensely precious gift, not only because of the price. He almost said something foolish like "I can't accept that!", but stopped himself. Instead he looked into his father's proud eyes and said his heart-felt thanks.

André nodded, patted him on the shoulder. "How much you've grown…" the hard man said with uncharacteristic softness. Link's blond hair still was just high enough to tickle his father's chin, but it was true none the less.

"Now! We still got work to do. We're behind." He said gruffly and took a piece of glowing metal from the forge.

Link would like nothing more than to swing his shiny new sword around like a dolt but knew that that had to wait, of course. His own sword! Not just some cheaply bought piece of ill fitting metal, either. His own sword.

He wrapped it in a few layers of cloth. He would have to make a scabbard for it at some point.

Hyrule, here I come, he thought grinning as he was returning to sharpening arrows.

. . . . .

Fear.

Worry

Unrest

Alarm.

Fear had joined the spectrum of emotions of the ants on the surface. Sweet, delectable fear… And it only took a mere thought, a tiny flicker of destructive intent, born from Its still semi conscious mind, to send them spiralling down into fright.

It smiled.

Its awakening drew near. The world was almost ripe to be plucked and throttled by Its hands once more. Only a few more displays of Its burgeoning power and It would have Its resurgence.

It grinned.

Already It could see. See the world's people live their pointless lives, their only purpose to be snuffed out by his hands.

Already It could sense Its worshippers, Its tools to be used to sow chaos and to perish by his will.

Already It could feel Its adversary. Two beacons of light. Clueless. Hopeless. Powerless before him. Enemies to overcome, radiance to be forever darkened by his hatred.

It laughed. And the world shook in dread.