Author's note: Updated 16th of July 2023
Chapter 2
The forest was not right, Link thought. Above his head, a magpie cackled mischievously. Beneath his feet, the leaves of last fall slowly decayed away to join their trees once more. Languid, diffused light trickled through the barren branches.
"You're quiet today," Rusl's voice came from behind a tree where he was busy collecting wood. "More than usual. What's on your mind?"
"I think something's wrong with the forest," Link answered.
The blacksmith came forth with his arms full of sticks and branches. "What makes you say that?" With a huff, he tossed the wood beside Link who was busy tying bundles. Epona stood grazing a distance away, silent as well.
"I don't know. It's too quiet. Spring always feels… livelier than this."
"Winter has only just passed, and nature is still asleep," Rusl assured with a smile. "Don't worry, it'll be back to normal in a few days when it finally gets warmer. I'll just go and check my traps, won't be long."
Even if spring had just started, Link felt as if the wintry numbness of the trees, plants, and animals had not left as it usually did during this time. Maybe he was suffering from the long absence of warm sunlight for too long now, or he was just paranoid. But spring like he knew it—especially in its early days—felt like a relief when it came, like a deep breath of life the forest took in as the time came for it to bloom anew. He had not felt this, even though it was more than time. To him it seemed as if the woods lacked the courage to sprout, afraid of the cold of winter returning like a vengeful spirit to snuff out all of their early blooms.
"Epona," he called and waved her over. The horse let herself plummet to the moist earth, her back reaching to his middle. Lost in thoughts with a slight frown on his forehead, Link worked to fasten the four fat bundles to her saddle. Quicker than he liked, they were safely attached to its leather hoops. Now he would have nothing else to do but wait for Rusl's return. With a deep sigh, he sat leaning against Epona's belly. She turned her head towards him and nudged his cheek. He nudged back with a smile.
"Yeah, I love you too, girl," he said.
He looked around, listening for the cheerful warble of birdsong, but no sound rang in his ears but the chilly wind stirring the bare branches above. There was something amiss in Faron Woods, whatever his foster father said. He just knew it.
His eyes stayed rooted on the ground in front of him, at the foot of a tree. There seemed to be a small depression in the dirt, a footprint from an animal he presumed. Stirred by the thought that maybe a few had passed by despite the gloom that had befallen the forest, he stood up and walked to the tree. Epona straightened as well but turned her head as other steps approached through the coppice. Link did not turn to see the smith return empty-handed; his attention was fixed on his find.
"There was nothing in 'em. We'll have to survive another few days on oat soup and dried meat, I'm afraid. What are you doing down there?"
The youth stood up, looking at Rusl while pointing to the ground. "Have you ever seen such a footprint before? I don't recognize it."
Rusl frowned as he bent over to have a look. Link, though not a master at it, knew much more about animal footprints than the blacksmith. While learning to hunt, it had been Harold who'd taught the Hylian all about tracking.
The print was small, long in shape and rather thin. Even if it resembled a child's foot clad in leather shoes, it was too deep to have been left by any of the forest children.
Rusl hummed. "How fresh is it?"
"I'd say about a day old. It passed by probably yesterday afternoon after the sun had thawed the mud here."
The blacksmith massaged his chin, nodding absently. "Hmm. If it's been here a day ago then there's no chance we might catch up with it."
"Could it be a monster?" Link asked.
His father figure nodded slowly. "Possibly. But we should speak to the mayor first and compare the print to Harold's notes before jumping to conclusions. Likely it's just a lonely straggler easily disposed of."
Among the handful of main races having established a society within Hyrule—like the Hylians and Humans—the race of monsters was a constant source of trouble. According to legend, it originated not from the three goddesses, but from the Darkness they inevitably created while the Light World was established. The lore of the goddesses said that every force in the world had an equal power opposing it. There could not be Light without Darkness, Benevolence without Evil. Thus the race of monsters, born from that Darkness and tainted with Evil, would attack a creature of Light without consideration. It was a fact as old as time; monsters were the enemy.
That did not stop scholars, adventurers, and warriors from confronting them, either for knowledge or for glory. Link knew of most types of monsters in Ordona and Faron, though he'd never seen one bigger than the spider-like Walltulas occasionally scrambling up his home's ladder in search for a place to nest, or the bat-like Keese infesting limestone caves. Rusl, a blacksmith as well as a swordsman, had schooled Link in the art of swordplay so he could protect himself against such vermin. Steel swords and ranged weapons were by far the best tools for killing monsters.
"Could it be dangerous? What if it comes to the village?"
Rusl's eyes darted across the trees, evading Link's look of eager curiosity. "We'll know more when we've consulted the bestiaries."
An itch of excitement settled within Link's chest at the mention of Harold's bestiaries. Comprising three books in total, these records held every known form of monster the old farmer and his kin had encountered over the course of three generations. After being inaugurated in the art of swordplay, Link had been given access to the first volume which gave in-depth descriptions of the monsters of Faron and Ordona. The second and third volumes, however, were reserved for fully-fledged swordsmen. But surely he could catch a glimpse of those pages yet forbidden to him if Rusl wasn't looking?
Together with Epona, they made their way back to Ordon. The sun, even if not visible through the grey, clouded sky, began to set behind the southern hills of Ordona Province and bathed the woods around them in a sombre twilight. The two men soon had to light their lanterns, the strong yellow glow giving them enough reassurance that, after a while, they began talking quietly. They knew that no creatures of the night would approach the firelight.
"You know, I always feel a strange sadness as dusk falls," Rusl said. "My father once told me that this is the only time of day that we can feel the lingering regrets of the spirits which have left our world."
Link looked at his foster father, staying silent.
"This is the time of day when our world intersects with theirs. We feel peaceful, yet a little sad, at least that's what I feel. I believe that's how the spirits of the dead feel too. They are at peace, but their regrets from their time of life make us feel the loss. And loss, together with loneliness, is something we feel sad about. Sometimes it causes nightmares, sometimes sleeplessness, even illness—"
"Neither loss nor loneliness have anything to do with it," Link cut him off, discerning all too well his father figure's subtle but clear allusion to Link's own well-being—or supposed lack thereof. "Besides, my nightmares have gotten better already, and I sleep much easier too. I feel perfectly fine."
Rusl sighed and looked at his adoptive son with worry in his eyes. "But are you truly happy?"
The question hung between them a moment too long. "Of course, I am."
"You are very devoted to your work on the ranch, you help wherever you can, and you never want anyone to worry about you. I can see what a fine young man you're becoming, and I couldn't be a prouder father. But all the books in the world will never give you what you're truly after: new things to see, places to visit; adventure."
Link felt his cheeks redden. "I am happy with what I have here. Ordon is my home. I would never want to leave it all behind."
"Who says you'd have to leave it behind?"
Rusl's knowingly raised eyebrow made Link grin warily. "Do you have something in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. You surely remember that good fellow Valhansen from Hyrule, right? Who came to visit us last fall?"
"Of course, I bought a book from him…" Link answered, wincing. He had been foolish to think his obsession with Hyrulean books—and the reason for him being so interested in them—would not cause Rusl to doubt Link's happiness living in a predominantly Human settlement.
"Well, besides his books he was also carrying an official invitation from none other than the king himself. The royal family is summoning a representative from all people of Hyrule to attend the Ceremony of Peace. In this ceremony, each delegate is to present a token of loyalty and support to the king."
"Is this about the raiders in the north near Forgaru that Valhansen mentioned?" Link asked. "I thought he told us they would be pushed back by spring."
"Indeed, but as far as I know, the army is still being deployed from Forgaru to deal with the remnants of the assault. Hyrule has a tradition to hold this ceremony whenever its army is forced to mobilise. For the people, it is a symbol of strength and unity within the kingdom. And even though Mayor Bo elected me as our representative, I believe that you should go in my stead."
The young Hylian's chin dropped. "Me? But I just turned sixteen last fall, and I'm… a Hylian. Wouldn't a Human be more appropriate?"
Rusl gave a surprised laugh. "Come on, now! Is it written anywhere that a Hylian shan't represent a group of sturdy Human farmers? You are young, yes, but you're mature far beyond your years. And just to have said it one more time: you've always been one of us, Link, no matter your looks or your interests. And that's what truly matters. So, what do you say?"
Link felt himself shudder with excitement.
This was it, his chance to lay his eyes upon the largest and wealthiest kingdom on the continent. To set foot on those grassy plains and steep mountains and river shores at last. The history of the goddesses was written on that very Hylian soil. Wars, peace treaties, the rise and fall of kings, all had come to pass in those vast lands full to the brim with wonders, mysteries, tales, and songs. How many ink drawings had he studied with his nose pressed to the page to make sure he missed none of the minuscule details? Pictures of stone houses, monuments, temples, citadels, churches, and—the prize of all—the behemothian castle of the land's capital. How was it even possible for all those stone towers to reach so high, look so magnificent, and withstand a storm that could fell a deep-rooted tree? How was it possible for all those stones to fit together perfectly and stay together without falling apart?
"Link?" Rusl cut through his musings with a chuckle.
"Of course, I'll go!"
0
Mayor Bo listened silently to Rusl's report in his large clay house, twirling his broad moustache thoughtfully. The three of them were seated at the leader's table, Link watching the two men and wondering what was going on in their heads. Volume I and II of Harold's Bestiarium lay opened and forgotten, the two older men having been forced to sift through Volume III, the obscurest of the trio, to find the monster in question. Bokoblin, of the Moblin genus, native to the Gerudo Desert in the far north-west. Link peeped at it while the men were absorbed in their talk. The page showed a short, ugly creature skilfully sketched and dyed in cornflower-blue, its tiny feet the ghost of Link's discovered print. Harold knew almost every species of animals, insects, plants, or monsters in existence, and insisted on founding his herbaria and bestiaries on solid, proven facts. Facts that the adventurous farmer had collected, usually, through first-hand encounters.
Thus Link was surprised to hear that the inhabitants of Ordon had met Bokoblins before, sixteen years ago, when Link had been just a baby. A small group had stormed into the village, killing two goats and a handful of cuckoos before being chased off and put down by Ordon's hunters.
The troubled look on the blacksmith's face was enough to stop Link from asking why he had never been told about the attack. Surely Rusl had his reasons. Though he felt a twinge of fear about returning to his cloistered home, so near to the forest. If ever he was attacked, no one would hear him if he called for help.
But Epona needed protection too, and if push came to shove he would be able to scare off any intruders. Rusl had not taught him the art of swordsmanship just for running away.
"We will secure all the gates and tell the children to stay away from the forest," Bo finally said. "If there are Bokoblins among those trees, I don't want any trouble with them. Rusl, how many swords do you have?"
"I made one for each man capable of fighting. Nothing fancy, but they're light and easy to handle." As Link turned to him in surprise, Rusl smiled. "You've got one as well, my boy."
"Good," Bo said. "I'll assemble the men while you fetch the swords to distribute them."
The stout man was about to stand up, but Rusl held up a hand. "Mayor, may I have another word? There is something Link and I wanted to discuss with you."
Pride clearly discernible in his voice, Rusl explained Link's accordance with being Ordon's representative for Hyrule's Ceremony of Peace. Bo eyed the two men sitting in front of him closely, eventually looking Link over as if to judge if he was fit for the job.
"And what are your thoughts on this, my lad?" he asked after Rusl had finished.
"It would be my greatest honour, Sir," the Hylian answered while bowing his head. "I would love to see Hyrule with my own eyes."
"You would have to see the king and swear allegiance and support. In front of hundreds of people. Do you think you can manage that?"
Link swallowed uneasily at the thought of all those people watching him, and only him. He had never been fond of large crowds. The inhabitants of Ordon, when assembled, were enough to make him feel uncomfortable.
But the chance of finally visiting his home country was too good to pass up. "I'll do my best, Mayor."
0
"Is thaur gonnae be a barnie?" Fado the rancher asked, his words fearful and more heavily accented with Ordonian patois than usual, showing how nervous he was. He held his plain sword awkwardly away from him as if it were a venomous serpent, looking up at Mayor Bo who stood on the porch of Rusl's small house.
"No, Fado, at least I hope not," Bo answered and addressed the villagers assembled before him. "These swords are for your protection only."
"Mayor, what about th' bairns?" Jaggle asked, holding his wife close to himself and the new sword in the other hand. "Ah dornt want them runnin' off into th' forest an' get attacked."
"You're quite right, Jaggle. Tell your children explicitly to stay away from the forest. And I am giving Link the task to keep an eye on them since his house is closest to the woods. Now get some sleep, everyone, and remember to lock your doors."
The adults nodded and returned to their homes, whispering worriedly among themselves. Link did not turn immediately; he was busy eyeing his new weapon. It was very rushed and looked rather weak, he didn't care. He had never fought with a real steel sword before, and it made him feel dizzy with pride and responsibility.
"I forged yours a little thinner so it wouldn't be too heavy for you," Rusl said as he stepped up to him, Uli close by. "Therefore it's not very robust. But it should hold up if you're careful with it."
"I will be," Link answered.
"Listen, why don't you stay at home with us tonight?" Uli asked suddenly. "We'll tell Colin to make some room, and I would sleep much better knowing you're not out there on your own."
Link smiled but shook his head. "That's nice of you, Uli, but I prefer to stay with Epona. Besides, we locked the gate on our way back."
"That gate may be sturdy but it has been broken down before," Rusl came to her defence. Clearly, he had been in conversation with his wife before. "We just don't want you to get hurt."
"I'm not a child anymore, Rusl. I can look after myself." Link perceived the foreign sensation of anger creeping into him, urging him to shout at them both, to make them stop treating him like a helpless child. But he suppressed it quickly with a frown. He had vowed to himself all those years ago that he would never shout at them again.
"Good night," he said instead, smiling. "Thanks for the sword and the talk earlier, Rusl. It was nice."
He could feel their lingering gazes at the back of his head, but he walked up the path and out of the village without looking back.
In his treehouse, he leaned against the door, his new sword in hand, feeling sullen. Rusl's and Uli's concern for him had never quite waned in the five years Link now lived apart from everyone, and they were not the only ones. Link cherished solitude just as much as he liked spending time with the other villagers, a trait that was often met with confusion, sometimes even sympathetic attempts to include him in activities he would usually have shunned as if trying to cure him of that quaint ailment they called loneliness. He never said anything, for he knew they only cared about him, just as they had ever since he was a baby plucked from the cold grasp of the forest and welcomed into their warm midst. They had saved his life; what would they think of him if he didn't try to be a part of them, a member of their large family?
But he knew he did not belong with them, not truly. He had been a foreigner ever since he entered Ordon for the first time in Rusl's arms, and despite their rigorous attempts to make him feel like an Ordonian, he could not hide the fact that he showed a fervent interest in Hyrule and its many wonders. Only Rusl seemed to truly understand Link's obsession—having lived in Castle Town for a few years before returning to Ordon and marrying Uli, many years ago—and had supplied him with history books and tales of the country since Link's early childhood. He felt a new surge of thankfulness overcome him for the blacksmith and his proposition to travel to Castle Town in his stead. Four weeks from now, Bo had said, in the middle of spring, and he would be off.
How he hoped that time passed quickly.
He took his wooden training sword from its nail and out of its linen sheath to be replaced with the metal sabre. Full with pride he held it in his hands and took in every detail, every curve and scratch on the blade and hilt his eager eyes could find; strong feral iron, sharpened to cut, and plain hardwood for a handle with a simple leather strap wound around it for a better grip. Nothing special, nothing fancy. But he loved it.
As he was about to climb up his two ladders to his bed he halted in mid-motion. He was not in the mood for sleep and instead made his way to the bookshelf beneath the first platform. It was not the volumes of Hyrulean literature that caught his attention tonight, but a long wooden object resting on top of the uppermost shelf. He took it carefully, brushing a thumb over the pattern engraved into it, and walked back to his fireplace where he sat down on a rug.
The sword was a necessity, a means to stay safe, but this object carved out of blackwood was still the most beautiful gift Rusl had ever made him. Being a foundling, no one knew Link's actual birthday, and so the villagers had always taken the first day of autumn—when the leaves had already turned colourful and the sun was bleeding—to celebrate his arrival in Ordon. Never had he wanted a big celebration made out of that day; after all, it also symbolised his abandonment by his true parents. Therefore, he rarely took presents willingly. This one, however, had been too wonderful and unexpected to accept self-consciously. He would never forget the amused look on Rusl's face as he had presented him the object for his ten years. Link had been so astounded that, for a long time, he had just held it in his tiny hands like a holy, fragile artefact, and had stared at it with his blue eyes wide in disbelief.
Link smiled at the memories, gazing into the crackling fire while he put the flute to his lips. It was a Hylian transverse flute, his favourite instrument, with that iconic airy sound that filled him with longing for his homeland. He had built up a small collection of Hylian songs over the years from travelling musicians willing to share and teach them. He chose a calm ballad to relax his reeling thoughts. The little melody he composed with trained fingers came out of his instrument and swept up his high house, out of the small window, and into the dense woods of Faron.
Suddenly he paused, his brow furrowing. There was a feeling in his bones he could not quite put words to, like a cold blow of wind exposing his vulnerable body to all the threats of the world. He remembered that strangeness of the woods earlier, and how it now seemed amplified to the point of creeping up to him, ready to strike. Sharply he turned around, looking at the sword hanging next to his door. Its presence reassured him, yet it did not quell his unease entirely. He felt observed, even through the thick walls of his safe home.
As he opened the door and peered outside, however, he heard nothing but the cold spring wind rushing through the trees above and Epona's quiet snort as she greeted him. He returned to the hearth and resumed his tune, seeking comfort in the notes twanging around his ears. This settled him down again and made him completely forget the instinct that had surfaced from the deepest, most primitive reaches of his mind.
0
Hidden in the dark, not far away from the first house of Ordon where the lantern burnt long that night, a lone creature heard the song restarting from within the treehouse. Its breaths were raspy, drops of saliva trickling from its sharply toothed maw onto the blue skin of its wrinkled body. The white locks, bound to a ponytail atop its head, quaked as it scrambled away on its too short legs. A low rumbling sound emanated from its throat, high-pitched and beastly. Its small green eyes glistened with malice…
What a prize this would be!
0
Spring finally broke through the winter-numbed forest and its melancholy. Dawn gained more ground, dousing the forest in a cascade of orange light that roused the blackbirds to perform like clamouring minstrels.
A knock on Link's door broke through the blood-curdling screams of his nightmares and made him roll away from the sound with a groan. He was curled on his carpets before the fireplace, his head draped over a stray pillow. The green history book he had been reading deep into the night lay open next to him.
"Link?" Ilia's voice rang through the door. She did not wait for him to respond and stepped inside, kneeling next to him and shaking him awake. Link picked himself up, trying to look fresher than he felt. He knew she would have laughed at his state of disarray were it not for the look of deep concern on her face.
"Sorry to wake you, I had to be sure you were all right."
"Why? What's wrong?"
Instead of replying, she led him down to the village centre, giving him barely time to straighten his baggy brown pants and throw on a cloak over his white, sleeveless shirt. All of Ordon's inhabitants had gathered around the mayor's house, their leader talking vividly with the driver of a badly damaged wagon.
"You're joking, right?" Mayor Bo asked, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Is this truly all the iron you have left?"
"I'm afraid so, Bo," the cart driver said. Link knew him as Egwin, the trader who came to Ordona Province every month and supplied the southern blacksmiths with iron rods and ingots. As he glanced at the wagon, however, hardly any wares were left.
"They just came out of nowhere and grabbed handfuls of it right out of the cart," Egwin continued. "Were it not for Flinn, they'd have cut me up like a steak for dinner."
A second man, clad in a simple brown tunic, a fur cloak, and leather boots, stepped forward and addressed the mayor quietly. Unlike the cart driver, he was armed with a fine steel sword and longbow strapped to his back and a tall shield emblazoned with the painted image of a rupee resting upright on the ground before him. He was a ranger from Palaguard, the northernmost town in Faron Province that marked the threshold of the forest to the vast land of Hyrule. It was the final trading centre for all the southern villages before their goods travelled onward to Castle Town and the northern provinces. It was also the farthest Link had been from Ordon, and closest to Hyrule. But the forest still enshrouded this larger town, with the first glimpse of South Hyrule Field several more hours of travel away.
"A strange darkness has befallen Faron Woods," he said to the mayor. "Don't let your kids run around in there, and you should assign patrols at night. I'll let you know when the danger is over."
"Thanks, Flinn, your help is very much appreciated," Mayor Bo answered. Ilia left Link's side and walked to her father, touching his thick arm reassuringly. Link watched the newcomers depart Ordon and take the Southern Road towards Ordonafawn.
"What was that all about?" he asked Rusl who stood next to Uli and Colin, watching the cart disappear with arms folded. The blacksmith had his sword strapped over his shoulder, and Link reminded himself he should do likewise.
"A group of Bokoblins attacked their cart the night before yesterday near the Temple," Rusl answered.
Link frowned. It was the fourth incident they had learned of ever since coming across the footprints in the forest two weeks ago. The quaint blue monsters shunned human settlements but had begun to cluster around the main roads, and attacks like these seemed to become more frequent. Yet despite the sightings and assaults happening so close, he had not yet caught a glimpse of them around Ordon.
After the wagon had disappeared behind the first turn, Bo addressed the waiting villagers around him.
"This does it, my friends, it can't go on like this anymore. We need to know what is going on in Faron Woods so that we can make adequate preparations."
"I propose a reconnaissance of the local area," Rusl said. "With your consent, Mayor, I shall take as many men as are willing to assess the state of the forest." Many heads around him nodded their approval, and Link felt his heart beat faster with excitement.
An hour was all it took to get ready. Gathered at the main gate leading into the forest, the armed men of Ordon stood tall and confident as they listened to Bo's instructions. Link stood among them, his bow and sword strapped over his shoulder and his hunting knife at his belt. He had been relieved of his herding duties for the day, much to his satisfaction. A trek through the forest searching for troublemakers sounded much more interesting than lounging in the grass all day watching goats.
"Good luck, and may Ordona's light guide you," Bo said, retreating towards the women to watch the men leave. Link saw Ilia give him an apprehensive look which she quickly hid as he smiled at her. She stretched out her tongue instead and waved goodbye.
The other men's voices soon filled the tranquil air of the forest as they chatted, and Jaggle even intoned a merry farmer's song. Rusl and Link smiled at each other while they listened to the men croon about the reaping of pumpkins, the herding of goats, and the looks of pretty farm girls.
One of Link's favourite spots came into view where the small forest path merged with the large dirt road leading straight through Faron. On its verge stood an old pole with six signs nailed to it. The three pointing in the opposite direction bore the names of the major southern villages, Ordon, Ordonafawn, and Timberfell.
Their sister village, Ordonafawn, was a larger community of farmers and goat breeders, encircled by hills. Thanks to the mountains around it, the village had several caverns that could be heated in winter, allowing for baby goats to pass safely through a mordant cold. Ordon itself brought their fawns to the mountain village for a cosy winter in exchange for grain and provisions. Thus, the relation between the two communities was a close brotherhood woven together by the tradition of breeding the finest goats in the land.
Far to the east, lost in the middle of the mighty trees of Faron, was the village of Timberfell. In this idyllic place, the houses were numerous and built right into the trees themselves. Treehouses like those in Timberfell could not be found elsewhere, and the modest home Link had carved into his own tree was no comparison to these wonders of craftsmanship. Thanks to the copious breadth of the Faronian trees, visitors would set their eyes on structures that seemed to meld with the trunk; walls curved and coated with bark, and roofs of cultivated branches like a treetop themselves, it was hard to distinguish which part belonged to the tree and which part was with nails attached to it. Had it not been for the bustling Human activity warbling like birds and walking up and down rope bridges suspended between the lofty homes, one could have passed right beneath Timberfell without noticing what they missed.
The workers of the wooden town were master lumberjacks, carpenters, carvers, and raft makers. Their pontoons, though small in shape, carried every possible outcome of a wooden branch, plank, or trunk one could think of. Timberfell's traders commonly set off on their elaborate barges along the Ordona Runnel to join Faron River, their holds stacked with crates of merchandise. On the larger current they would float for several days until reaching the greatest body of water in Hyrule: Lake Hylia.
Link had been to Timberfell once, and it was from there that the idea of a treehouse had even occurred to him. He smiled as he remembered talking to one of the hairy lumberjacks and being so intimidated by the man's gruff voice that his ears had flattened to his head. They were the largest, furriest, and friendliest human beings he had ever met in Faron.
"Rusl, we should go to Timberfell again one day, and see how they're doing," Link told his foster father.
"I wonder if Dan and his wife are still on the tree plantations," Rusl answered with a nod. "I remember they wanted to open their own workshop to make instruments. Hah, do you think they'll ask me to forge strings for their lutes and violins? I hope not, by Farore, it is a tedious business."
As Link looked back at the crooked post he saw the other three signs pointed north, with a name whittled into each. If their group had been on a trade voyage to Palaguard, the large merchant city at the border of the forest—and the first name on the board—halfway there they would have come across a trading hub on the north side of Faron River. Bando Port, sitting atop the cross where the road and the river met. A large merchant vessel was docked there, by a storehouse, and the words Red Lion were painted in gold lettering on its red-painted side. At exactly two hours past sunrise, the bargee, clad in a crimson sailor's tunic, would cry:
"Aaaall abooooard! The Red Lion is setting saaaaiiil for Bandooo!"
Then some stray passengers would sprint up the plank, the large ropes would be untied from their bollards, and the proud vessel would claw off the shore, packed with grain sacks, vegetable barrels, fruit baskets, and all the sundries missing in a settlement built on the surface of the large river.
Bando was the town of the pile dwellers, more than fifty miles north-east of Ordon and surrounded by lush, dense forest. Stringing along the shore on spindly poles, multi-legged homes seemed to wade awkwardly in the sand like storks searching for a place to settle down. Humans inhabited those stilt houses and made their chimneys smoke, their planers scrape over long branches to make harpoons, and forever strived to find new uses for the town's commonest resource; fish was everywhere, flitting below the water's surface, on the shore in baskets, on the hooks of children's fishing rods, in the kitchens, in the pots, and even above the doors. In Bando, it brought luck to have a tooth of a Hylian loach attached to a piece of leather and suspended over the front door, as it was said to keep the malignant spirits of the night at bay. The Hylian loach was a very rare fish, fabled for its extensive size and the particular challenge it presented to catch. The chieftains of Bando passed the teeth down from generation to generation, distributing them to newcomers or children maturing to adults.
They are lucky a Hylian loach has that many teeth, Link thought.
He turned back to the signpost one final time, and the last name left his heart clenching with longing. Hyrule, it read.
"Stay alert, son," Rusl said and made Link snap his head back to the road. He added a little later in a soft voice: "Don't worry, only two weeks to hold on, and you'll see your precious Hyrule."
They soon passed the first Faronian Giants, trees that could measure over a hundred yards in height. These monstrosities were so large that an entire temple could find space in their width. That, Link knew, was the case of the Forest Temple, a safe haven to the monkeys that protected the forest and the invaluable treasure said to slumber within those thick walls. No one knew what it was, this arcane artefact, but many speculations had already been made by adventurers and scholars, one more absurd than the next. Link, however, felt no inclination to try and find the entrance to the deeper chambers of the temple. The monkeys were a friendly but vigilant folk and would attack with claws and teeth whoever dared venture in too far. After all, whatever lurked inside must have been sealed away for good reason.
Rusl drove them onward at a quick pace in the hopes of covering the fifteen miles to Faron's spring by noon. Nothing out of the ordinary crossed their path until an hour from the spring, where Rusl made a sharp turn into the undergrowth and stopped amid clusters of trees and bushes.
"What is it?" Jaggle called from behind. The blacksmith was looking thoughtfully at the high trees surrounding them, and Link followed his gaze. Up in the treetops, he saw the forked trunk coated in a silver mass of threads.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Looks like a web to me," Rusl answered. "But it's bigger than the ones made by Walltulas, and too high up."
Walltulas were spiderlike monsters about as large as Link's head, commonly found in shrubbery and perched on trees. Despite their size, they were rather harmless and preferred to scurry to safety rather than stay and defend their home. Link concluded that, if this web was larger, then the spider that had made it had to be larger as well.
"Harold, do you recognize this web?" Rusl called, and the little old man stepped up to them and gazed into the tree.
"If I'm not mistaken this looks like a Skulltula's web."
Link felt a shiver run down his spine. A Skulltula was a fabled arachnid that got its name from the skull-like design on its rear. It was about as large as his torso and lurked in the trees for helpless prey it caught by lowering on its silvery thread and biting at its neck. To this day, however, Link had believed the predator to be all but extinct from these forests.
He trembled more as he looked behind him and found an entire forest of white threads woven into the leaves and branches. His hand groped for Rusl's sleeve, the other pointing into the canopies as soon as he had the smith's attention.
"Oh Farore…" Rusl mumbled grimly. "Looks like they've multiplied."
The other men were more than happy to turn on their heels and did not bother concealing their nervousness until they were safely back on the Southern Road. Rusl led them onward, silent and brooding, and Link dared not ask what went on in his head. He could not pride himself with lack of fear upon seeing the Skulltulas' nests and breathed much easier when Faron Spring finally came into view.
It was larger than the one close to Ordon, its small garrulous waterfalls emptying themselves into a white sand basin by the roadside. Monoliths of narrowing stone stood silent and watching among the ferns and ivy-clad trees, their grey surface littered with carvings. There was a perpetual shine to the crystal clear water, pulsating along with the gentle waves rolling over the sand. After all, it was not called a light spirit's spring for nothing.
They ate their lunch of bread and cheese at the edge of the water, chattering again as the soothing sound of gurgling water made them briefly forget their earlier find. Their mood was not even dimmed as Rusl called them to attention and established groups of two to investigate the area around the spring. Fado, the most inexperienced fighter among them, was instructed to go with Rusl while Harold, having lost much of his stamina from his youthful years, was to be accompanied by Link.
"Link, my lad, I'm getting too old for this," the elder said as they set off north through the trees. He was originally from Palaguard, the reason for his far less pronounced accent and his uncommon love for science and art. Link owed a lot of his knowledge to the old man. "I should've stayed home with Gertie. She'd come after me with her broom if she knew we were plodding through the boscage like apes."
There was no path except for the Southern Road to their right, barely visible through the thicket. "Don't say that," Link protested kindly while he brushed away a low-hanging branch and held it for Harold to pass. "You know more about the forest creatures than anyone. We would be lost without you."
Harold's sparse teeth made an appearance as he grinned broadly. "I hear you're becoming quite the scholar yourself, Link, with all them books you're reading. Swords are nice, but you need to know what you're fighting to stand a chance at winning. Oh, stop right there."
He grabbed Link by the arm and pulled him to a crouch beside him. "See that bud in the ground? That's a Deku Baba."
Link's eyes widened, watching the gently pulsing bud half concealed in the shrubs a few feet before him. If Harold had not seen it, he would have stepped right into it.
"Aye, the Deku Baba," Harold said. "Very dangerous teeth, strong jaws, but no eyes and no legs. Just a stalk with a maw, really. One of the many bizarre monsters we share this forest with. Strange to find one so close to the spring though. Usually, they keep to the deeper parts."
"Should we kill it?" Link asked, reaching for his sword.
"Are you nuts? It's a rare species!" Harold squeaked. "You young folks are all about killing. When the monster don't attack you, leave it in peace. What'as Rusl been teaching you?"
Link lowered his head in shame and gulped. Despite highly valuing Harold's wit and wisdom, he had never quite appreciated the man's brashness that had intensified with old age, and the elder seemed completely unaware of how tactless his words sometimes sounded.
"Come, let's keep moving," Link answered. "We'll tell Rusl we saw one."
They gave the bud a wide berth and walked on. As the ground fell a little and the old man nearly tripped over his own feet, Link hurried to support him. With a groan, Harold leaned against a tree. "Like apes, I say. Like blasted apes," he muttered. "Gimme a moment to catch my breath, laddie."
The young Hylian let him rest while playing absent-mindedly with his knife. The wind was chilly in the shadow of the trees, his bare arms beneath his cloak teased into goose-bumps by the cold. He closed his eyes and listened to the rustling of leaves above him, breathing in the fresh spring air.
Suddenly he frowned, reopening them and looking ahead. The wind had turned and was carrying an odd, putrid smell, as if something was decaying further ahead. He pushed himself away from the trunk, pulling out his sword in alarm.
"Did you see something?" Harold called behind him, also drawing his weapon.
"No, something smells bad. Do you smell it too?"
The farmer shook his head, but Link did not see it while he led the way through the trees. After a moment he remembered his appointed duty as protector and turned around. "Stay close to me."
"I'm right behind you, laddie."
They slowly advanced into the coppice, past thick trunks and black bushes. The trees had become so dense they blocked the light from the sky, rendering the space eerie and dark. Link had brought his lantern with him and crouched down to tap his flint on the metal rim around the wick, producing a spark that caught on the burnt cloth soaked in oil and went immediately aflame. Fog was now creeping up their legs and looked in the shadows like hands ready to grab them. As the air around them became thicker with humidity and the rancid stench intensified, Harold began to cough.
Then the path opened out into a vast clearing, and they were greeted by a sight that let them gasp. Purple fog wafted about the bases of the trees, shielding the ground completely from view. In the darkest areas, it had crept up the trunks and had turned the leaves black with decay.
Link felt light-headed from the terrible smell and staggered backward, groping for Harold's arm and pulling him back into the woods.
"Well," the old farmer huffed as they stopped at the spring, their comrades' surprised faces turning to them. "You folks do not wanna go near what Link and I just stumbled across."
0
Link was roused out of his sleep early the next day; Rusl and Jaggle needed help in reinforcing the entrance gates.
The news of the Skulltula nest had caused great unrest among the villagers, but it was the poisonous purple fog Link and Harold had found that had prompted the mayor to increase Ordon's measures of security. The children had been forbidden access to the forest, and even Link was restricted to the immediate vicinity of his home. The goats were kept on the pasture adjacent to the village, and the crop fields were only allowed to be worked in groups. But despite the danger that lurked among the trees, Ordon's villagers refused to give in to fear. They whistled and laughed as they worked, and both men and women took out their sticks and axes and spent every spare moment honing their martial arts.
Jaggle brought his large toolbox from his workshop and hammered away on the gates while Link and Rusl felled a few nearby trees and brought them, with Epona's help, into Link's yard. Jaggle was, next to his work as miller, also Ordon's carpenter tasked with the crafting of wheelbarrows, bowls, plates, the repairing of Gertie's loom, or the fixing of a stable door at the ranch. He measured the sturdy trunks, drew the outlines of a few required slots to be carved out with a small hand axe, and instructed Rusl and Link on how to shape them to size.
"Link, mah laddie, woods ye come ower tae mah workshop thes efternuin an' help me wi' th' shield aam makin'?" Jaggle asked the youth after they heaved the trunk onto a pair of trestles. The carpenter's words rung with the distinctive Ordonian dialect of provincial farmers, barely intelligible for people from the northern lands. But Link, even if his own accent was much milder thanks to Rusl's and Uli's influence, had no trouble understanding every word.
"Of course, but what for?" he inquired. "We don't need a shield."
Jaggle tapped his nose with a grin. "Ah, that, mah laddie, is fur King Gustaf. While Rusl is makin' a bonnie sword, th' mayur tasked me tae make a shield t' match it. Ah even travelled tae Timberfeel lest week tae gie some wuid an' advice frae th' folk thaur. Ah have it in mah hoose, if yoo'd loch tae hae a look at it. Efter aw, it's ye who is gonnae deliver it."
Link's eyes grew big. "Of course, I'd love to!" he said, grinning.
Thus, after the two gates leading out into the wilderness had been securely reinforced and locked, Link and Jaggle walked to the carpenter's house. The watermill attached to the back of the large building rumbled peacefully away as they passed by. Jaggle and his family were the more industrious fellows of Ordon, and next to all the work they did producing wares and conducting craftsmanship, they were parents to the two mischievous brats Talo and Malo, too young yet to understand responsibility. Link held the two full-time parents in great respect.
"Sae, let's see," Jaggle said and ushered Link inside the workshop. It wasn't particularly large but had all the tools needed to perform stunning woodworks: hammers, nails, saws, slicers, a manual drill for holes, piles of sandpaper, chisels in various sizes, and a nice practical workbench. In a corner stood a large basket filled with wood chips to be used as tinder, and the ground was coated in a thin layer of sawdust swept aside like yellow snow by the carpenter's worn sandals.
On the bench sat an intricately carved shield made from a large piece of hardwood, finely sanded. Its top rim curved upwards in a rounded variation of the classic heater shield, the standard in Hyrule.
"It's nae quite finished yit, Ah still need tae attach th' handle an' th' enarmes. Ah had thooght 'at yoo'd loch tae dae th' paintin' an' mebbe ye have an idea fur some engravin' oan th' upper reem."
Link chuckled. "Sure, I'll see what I can do."
During the next half hour, Link scratched and sketched away on the shield with a coal pencil while Jaggle worked on the leather enarmes that would keep the shield attached to the wearer's arm. The soft noises of their activities sounded like an improvised rhythm, making the atmosphere in the workshop pleasantly convivial.
Jaggle was punching the nail holes into the leather, whistling a merry tune, when Link stood up and brought the shield to the carpenter to look at. "Here, what do you think?"
"Och, whit an artwork! Weel dain, laddie!" Jaggle exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
In the middle of the shield Link had drawn the traditional circular Ordon goat horn, striped white and brown and widening near the bottom. The real goat sported two white stripes on its forehead which Link had also depicted in the centre of the horn. The muzzle was a large dot of black, encircling the two stripes and coming up to the horn in form of two stubby lines forming the eyes. Since the horn was shaped like a circle, there had been a lot of space in the round area that he had filled with two curved lines symbolizing the goat's ears. To finish the crest, he had outlined the animal's head with some fur sticking out, making the painting look like a friendly goat gazing at them, the horn towering over its smaller head.
"Aa'm impressed!" Jaggle said, tapping the lad on the shoulder. Link nodded his thanks and pointed at the top rim of the shield where he had made three more pencil sketches.
"I drew a pattern here, and the Tree of Ordona in the middle. Is that okay for the engraving?"
The Tree of Ordona was a depiction of a triangular tree resembling a fir with many branches departing from a tall centre to form a rough cone. It was the symbol of protection for goat herders in Ordona Province, its origin an amalgam of needle and leaf trees which were so abundant in the South. It was, like the loach teeth in Bando, commonly depicted on gates and barn doors to keep evil spirits aloof. Fado also wore this picture on his traditional garb which identified him as the master goat herd. Link merely had a leaf of the tree on his garments, since he was just the ranch hand.
"It's stoatin good! Traditional but innovative. Bo will loove it!"
Link glanced out of the window and saw the sun steadily sinking towards the horizon. "Got to go, Jaggle. Epona needs her wash and I've still got some housework to do."
Jaggle chuckled. "Ye pure need tae gie yerself a lassie, Link. Hoosework's fur burds!"
The youth smiled self-consciously while he went to the door. "I've got my girl already. She pulls trees out of the woods and takes me wherever I want to go."
Knowing it would amuse the perky carpenter, he added in a cheeky voice. "You can't want more from a lass, eh?"
Jaggle let out a booming laugh behind him, and Link waved goodbye before leaving the house with a faint, relieved smile.
His girl was waiting patiently as well as his laundry, the dusty floor, the dirty crockery in the sink, his sword training puppet which he had managed to break to pieces once again, and the goats on the ranch he had to herd back into the barn at sundown. It would be a busy afternoon for him.
While he was sitting in his yard in front of Epona's stable—his few pieces of clothing soaking in a big wash-basin between his legs—the mare behind him began to stomp.
He had given her a thorough wash and she was now drying while grazing unattached on the small clearing that was his yard. Her glistening fur twitched as she flexed her muscles, emitting a few worried sounds. Link looked at her, saw her fidgeting around, and quickly stood up to grab her halter.
"Hey girl, what's the matter?"
She suddenly whinnied and reared up to her full height, causing Link to stumble backward. She turned around and galloped to the trees, rearing up anew.
The young Hylian was reaching for his bow the moment he saw the bushes tremble in front of the large mare. A rumbling sound, guttural and beastly, made his blood freeze. Epona neighed as her hooves thrashed through the bush and shredded it to pieces. Then a wail sounded, a shadow fled her angry moves, and Link lunged for his bow and dashed forward.
"Come on, Epona! After it!"
Link sprinted through the trees, hot on his mare's heels. He could only make out the silhouette of a swaying figure that fled with quick steps, its legs too short to be of much help to its escape. In its right claw—or whatever it was the creature possessed as hands—it held a long object that flashed occasionally in the rare light beams finding their way through the treetops.
Link's mind was reeling; this must be what they had been searching for in Faron Woods; a Bokoblin. He could not quite make it out because of its smaller shape constantly disappearing behind bushes or trunks, but that cornflower-blue skin was unmistakable.
Epona was hard on the pursuit. She crashed through the coppice taking no notice of the destruction she was causing. Her ears were flattened tightly to her head. But the trees soon grew too dense for her large shape to squeeze through. Link stopped as well as he saw the creature slide down a minor hill and briefly disappeared from his sight. Instead of following it, he readied an arrow and pulled back hard, aiming at the base of the hill.
Soon, the frantic monster reappeared, still running in clumsy swaying motions down the hill.
You won't threaten Ordon ever again, Link thought with teeth clenched tight. One eye shut, the other set on his target, he released the shaft that soared through the air noiselessly. A gurgling shriek issued out of the Bokoblin's drivelling mouth before it toppled to the ground, the feathered weapon sticking out of its back.
Link huffed and slung the bow over his shoulder, tapping Epona's quaking flank. "Well spotted, girl," he praised, panting.
He took her halter and guided her through the dense trees towards the corpse, crinkling his nose at the stench wafting from the monster. He wondered why he had not smelled the ill-minded foe as it had sneaked up to him earlier. Its wrinkled skin was of a washed-out blue and almost looked painted, with roughly braided, snow-white hair bound to a tight ponytail on its scalp. It had an array of sparse, yellowed teeth set into a particularly prominent jaw, its size rivalled only by the pair of large and excessively pointy ears that stuck out of the small skull at a right angle. He just now realised, as he saw the long knife in its bony fingers, that it had tried to kill him, completely unaware while he was washing his clothes. Had it not been for Epona, he would have likely succumbed to that fate.
He decided to leave the corpse where it was and run back to get the mayor, yet as he turned around to mount his steed, Rusl and the stout leader were already hurrying towards him.
"Colin saw you run off into the woods. What is this all about?" Rusl asked crossly as soon as he came up to him, but let out a disgusted grunt the moment he saw the carcass lying in a grotesque heap on the moist forest earth. "Is it dead?"
"Yes," Link assured and lifted his chin, unconsciously moving closer to his kill. "It was on the run, but I shot it down before it could escape."
"Very good, lad," Bo praised, huffing and puffing; his large form was more used to merry talking and drinking than a sprint through the forest. "Have you seen more of them?"
"No, just this one. It was sneaking up to me in my yard, but Epona noticed it in time. You saved my life, girl!" Link added, patting her neck affectionately. The horse was sniffing at the Bokoblin and flinched back with a snort.
"It was trying to kill you?" Rusl asked. His voice was tainted with fright and anger.
"It probably came in before you secured the gates," Bo interjected quickly. "Dear Farore, I'm glad you found it. Rusl, take Jaggle and Moe and go look if there are any others. Chase them away or kill them, it doesn't matter. I want them gone from the village!"
"Mayor, I want to help too," Link proposed.
"Certainly not, son!" Rusl called a tad too loudly.
"Easy, Rusl," Bo said, placing a calming hand on the smith's shoulder before addressing Link. "Thank you for the offer, but you already did more than was necessary. Such tasks should not fall to you, my boy."
"He should not have run after it on his own, either!" Rusl snapped and turned on Link. "Do you have any idea what could have happened? There could have been a whole group of them hiding in there. Walltulas might scamper off if you swing a sword at them, but Moblins fight back, and they'll kill you if they get the chance. Are you trying to get killed?"
Adrenaline was still pumping through Link's veins from the hunt, making him light-headed and twitchy. "No, Rusl, I just—"
"Don't make excuses, Link! You should have called for one of us instead of chasing after it on your own. They're non-sentient, but they're smart enough for an ambush."
"Come now, Rusl," Bo said. "He was only trying to help."
"No, he endangered himself needlessly with his arrogant behaviour!" the smith yelled. "None of you children are allowed into the forest, and that includes you, Link. I'll let it go for today, but if you do something reckless like this again, I see no reason to let you go to Hyrule all by yourself. Is that clear?"
Link was muted with disbelief. He stared at Rusl, hands clenched to fists and tears of anger brimming in his eyes. It was not fair; the day before he had taken Link into the woods for their reconnaissance, shared jokes and responsibilities with him, treated him like a man. Now, Link was back to being a child in his eyes. Had it not been for him, that Bokoblin could have wreaked havoc in the entire village, but Rusl had turned from his accomplishment and seen Link's intervention as nothing but a foolish endangerment of his own life.
"Is that clear?" Rusl growled.
"Yes," the Hylian grunted and grabbed Epona's halter. Silently he walked back to his house, ignoring the two men behind him carrying the dead Bokoblin.
"I am thankful to you, whatever Rusl says," Mayor Bo told him quietly in Link's yard once the smith was out of earshot dragging the carcass into Ordon to be burned. "He just doesn't want you to get hurt, because he loves you very dearly. I hope you know that."
Link nodded, stroking Epona's neck while he watched his kill disappear behind the hillside. Despite the argument leaving him moody and sullen, he knew what he had accomplished, the arrow stained with the Bokoblin's dark blood like a trophy in his hand. As he looked down at it, his conscience briefly reminded him of the deer he had hunted last fall; back then, he'd felt bad about taking a life; about feeling prideful because of it. Why did this kill fill him with relief instead?
It was a monster, he thought, gritting his teeth in determination. Monsters do nothing but kill and destroy. I protected the village. That realisation satisfied him.
And he became aware of one important thing: if ever he'd encounter more Bokoblins on the way to Hyrule, he knew now that he could handle them. He realised with a content smile that, except for the sharp teeth and the weapon they wielded, they were not nearly as dangerous as he had thought.
000