Author's note: I seem to be on a streak right now, as I have managed to upload chapters for Book 2 and the Rewrite at a consistent 2 week pace every second Sunday. I'll try to keep this up, however the idea of an upload schedule has never appealed to me simply because, although I adore writing, it is not something I can always motivate myself for, and being forced into it through a promised upload schedule puts a bitter taste of obligation to it, when for me it is purely a passion I do for fun. I'd rather spend more time on a chapter and ensure it is written to the very best of my ability, rather than churn it out as fast as possible to please an audience. So I'll try to keep it up, but don't expect me to follow it rigidly.

With that being said, chapter 8 was matched to the current plot and quality standard with improved descriptions, battles, and interactions. Link faces his first instance of hero worship, since it is important that fears are sometimes justified to keep them active and plausible, and in this particular case, it made sense to me. The fight with Ook has been modified and enhanced with some levity (it is rather ridiculous, after all, isn't it?), and Midna gets a lot more interactions with Link, expanding and fortifying her character more.

I hope you enjoy the changes I made, and if things progress at this pace I'll have chapter 21 of Book 2 ready by Sunday the 1st of October.

Happy reading!

DR

Chapter 8

The Forest Temple was carved into several trees—similar to how Link had built his home. The only difference was that these were Faronian Giants, trees that grew so astonishingly large that they could have fitted half the houses of Ordon into one single trunk.

They thrived in a lush part of Faron where an enormous crevice split the rock into a ravine more than a hundred feet deep. The debris amassed over time provided sufficient nutrition for their wheel-large roots. It was one such root, carved like a tubular bridge, that brought its visitors to the round temple door set upon a wooden platform and painted with a swirling red symbol, the sigil of Faron Woods.

From his vantage point, Link saw the crimson symbol obscured by two dozen monsters. A very subtle humming, like the rushing of a forge fire fed with a thin stream of air, rang faintly in his ears. He had heard it every time the villagers had made their annual pilgrimage here, though the source remained a mystery. Rusl had never claimed to hear it, and even Ilia had just shaken her head and laughed at him kindly.

Now, after the light spirit's revelation, he had an idea of what it could be; the forbidden power, locked away in the deepest reaches of the Forest Temple. His divine mission.

He had spent the last few minutes staring at that beckoning round door, quietly mulling over his options. As unhelpful as that knight at Bando Port had been, his estimates seemed accurate. Twenty Bokoblins, and a handful of the veiled Bulblins he had been dreading to meet, milled about on the main road and blocked his path. Of the six boars the knight had mentioned, five stood haphazardly around a bonfire where a massive spit had been erected. Link grunted in disgust when he recognised the meat; Bullbo. They were eating their monster mounts.

The road passed the access bridge at a perpendicular angle, following the ravine to its left and offering no recess he could have used to sneak by. What monsters weren't sitting around the campfire, bickering and cackling amongst each other in their peculiar monster-talk, were ambling about and across the bridge, presumably on patrol. Link suspected there were even more inside.

"How much longer are you going to sit here, Mister Big Important Hero?" Midna sighed, peeling herself from the shadows. "Some hero you are. You're supposed to fight these guys, not admire them. You said you were a swordsman, so act like one."

He sighed, scratching his ear. "Midna, throwing myself headlong into a group of monsters is suicide. I need to come up with a plan first."

He snorted to himself; Rusl would have been overjoyed to hear him say these words. But during his first encounter with Bokoblins there had been only four. Now he was outnumbered twenty-five to one. Two, if Midna was willing to help. Which he doubted.

Midna stared off into the distance with an odd look on her face, as if she was debating with herself if she should reveal a secret. "Are you familiar with the term 'element of surprise'?" she asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm—"

With a sudden, monstrous wail she flew from the undergrowth and straight for the temple entrance. Like a tidal wave, a collective jump rolled through the monster horde, inciting each ponytailed head to turn in their direction. Midna hovered near Link's hiding place just long enough for the Moblins to notice him. Half of them stormed towards her while the other half, honking and gurgling, brandished their wooden rakes and hobbled into the woods to close him in.

Link felt ready to strangle his imp companion. Desperately fumbling with his quiver, he readied his first arrow and downed a nearing Bokoblin, hitting it in the forehead. The second arrow missed, as did the third. He forced his mind to focus, wiped the sweat from his palms, and tried again. He managed to fell two more before they came too close for comfort. He tossed down his bow and drew his sword and shield.

"Over here! Mister Big-Important-Hero needs some pr-actice!" Midna cheered like a little girl. Link didn't bother concealing his curse in a whisper. Roaring he met the horde head-on and brought his focus to new, unprecedented heights as he parried rakes, pushed and shoved the bodies crowding him, cut and slashed and rented blue flesh before they could recover.

The sword was heavy, he realised; much heavier than his first blade. The added weight made each of his strikes surprisingly powerful, but after only a few swings his arm slowed with exertion, and he had to dig deep into his reserves to muster enough strength for each blow.

Soon he was overwhelmed, and forced to retreat.

"Midna!" he bellowed. "There are too many! I can't—"

"Oh look, a child! Hey, scared little boy, we're here to save you."

Link's heart somersaulted. Through the thick trees and Bokoblin silhouettes, he could barely see the temple entrance where her voice came from. Were they so close? Midna could fly around without being hit—surely she had gained access to the temple and found the spot where they kept the children. With a growl, he pushed forward, past two Bokoblins and back out in the open. Have to reach the door!

"I see… a blond boy…?" her voice echoed over to him, sounding inquisitive.

Colin! he thought, running as fast as he could towards the bridge before he was stopped by two Bulblins. They raised their clubs for an attack, and Link parried both blows with his sword and shield, too scared and desperate to remember form or stances. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his arms that made him waver. Bulblins were far stronger than Bokoblins, he noted.

He focused on the left Bulblin, driving forward with his sword raised like a spike, and managed to unbalance it long enough to impale it on the ground. Then, a sudden blow to his back sent him reeling.

His chain mail dug painfully into his flesh, and he knew it was taking him much too long to recover. He brought his shield up just in time to parry another strike from the Bulblin behind him. By then, the remaining dozen monsters had encircled him.

In their attempts to land a blow on him, many of them accidentally hit each other. He was pushed to scramble backwards on his hands and feet, but the Bulblin simply ran past him and cut him off, forcing him back up. He was being pummelled from all sides as he desperately tried to dodge the many attacks directed at him. Bulblins and Bokoblins smothered him left and right with no regard for their comrades, and were struck down by his sword or bludgeoned by his shield which he thrust forward like a ram. But they weren't dying quickly enough, and his strength was waning.

Midna's shadow flew overhead, drawing half a dozen monster heads in her direction. Link used the distraction to break through and start running. From the corner of his eye, he saw Midna fly past the bridge, straight for the ravine, and Link was astonished to see the monsters blindly following her. One fell, then another, running pell-mell right off the edge. Even the Bulblins ran at breakneck speed across the Southern Road and plummeted to their deaths a hundred feet below among the giant roots.

Link was left panting, bruised and cut in a dozen different places, by the bridge. When the wave finally came to a standstill, cackling madly at the unreachable shadowy form, Midna let out a snarl and latched out with her hair, once more formed into a giant hand atop her head. One sweep catapulted two more beasts into the ravine, and by the third swipe, the monsters had enough.

Piling on top of the few Bullbos left like ants on an anthill they thundered away, leaving the street eerily deserted.

"So, how many did you get?" Midna sneered, floating over to him and glaring at his shallow injuries. "Ugh, looks like I had to do most of the work again! Are heroes good for anything?"

Link was too shocked to care about her mocking. He coughed the dryness from his throat, still trying to regain his breath, and scowled at her. "Why did you do that? You didn't even give me a warning!"

Predictably, she answered with outrage. "Don't you dare yell at me. Do better! These monsters are mindless cannon fodder with two emotions: boredom and aggression. They don't think, they don't plot, they simply follow. Why do you think that ogre was in charge, hm? You have to stop doubting yourself and do what you're supposed to do. I won't save your sorry behind every time we face a monster horde, because if you can't handle mindless savages like Moblins, you will not survive your encounter with the Twilight king."

"And having them all jump on top of me is going to make me a better fighter?"

"Absolutely."

"No, it's going to get me killed! I wasn't prepared to fight so many at once." Rusl's accusation from several days ago replayed in his head, and Link had to admit that, after this latest fight, he understood his foster father's fear a little better.

"Well, you're in luck, because there are plenty more where those came from," Midna said. "Next time you have the opportunity to fight weak monsters, make an effort instead of letting yourself be overwhelmed. Because if you keep messing up, nobody is ever going to take you seriously."

Link gritted his teeth, ears drawn back in shame; that one had stung, and she knew it. During his altercation with Sir Govan of the 59th she had been concealed in his shadow, after all, and had witnessed every word. It had only given her more ammunition to ridicule him.

"Oh, and before you get all excited, I lied about the blond boy," she huffed and turned away, floating towards the carved bridge. "There are no children here that I can see."

"What?" Link called. "Why would you—"

"To get you moving," she sneered, her single fang winking at him savagely. "And it almost worked. Light dwellers are so gullible, hehehe…"

His rage boiled hotter, almost too much for him to hold back. He forced his breath to even out as he fought against the blinding urge to scream. It wouldn't help anything. Village peace, harmony… Rusl's shocked eyes…

Mutely, he wiped his bloodied sword in the grass and stuck it back in its sheath, wincing as the twist made his newest bruise sting. The Bulblin had struck his lower spine and driven the many chainmail rings deep into his skin where only the thin linen shirt dampened the impact. He was sure he had their imprint tattooed on his back. Sighing, he carefully stepped through the carcasses to where he'd dropped his bow, then back towards the temple bridge. Perhaps Midna sensed that she had hit a nerve with her last rebuke, for she relapsed to welcome silence.

The rounded door sat inside a carved groove and could not be moved unless the handle next to it was pushed down, which set in motion a mechanism of pulleys and weights that tilted the rail and made the door roll sideways. Already upon sticking his head through the gap, he could discern a foul smell of decay wafting out. The door made a shuddering bang the moment it fell closed, the sound echoing through the entire tree that seemed to cringe at the loud noise before demonstratively falling silent once more. Link stood in the murky light for a moment, listening. No monsters near him, as far as he could hear.

Carefully, he stepped forward while unhooking his lantern from his belt and lighting it with a quick thrust of his flint.

"Hello?" he called.

"The only living things in here are monsters," Midna growled from the shadows. "And us, idiot."

"No, actually," he grunted as he stepped into the main chamber of worship. "There's a caretaker here who keeps the temple clean and cares for the monkeys that live here. And I'm still convinced the children are here somewhere, too."

"I'm done arguing with you," she sighed. "Just call me if you need a slap to the face."

I'll be happy for the silence, he thought glumly, before letting his gaze sweep across the large room in front of him, and gulping.

The Forest Temple had been used for centuries by woodsmen to worship Farore, the goddess of life, hope, and courage. As such, many small altars of stacked stones, carved wood, or woven willow effigies had been scattered around the main path and along the wall, to hold the countless offerings for the giver of life. Everywhere, a jumbled mess of whittled sticks, pressed clay discs, painted stones, dried flowers, woven reeds, and knotted string lay partly coated by layers of moss around the altars' bases. Some of the offerings must have been spilt across the ground, however; mounds of them lay in the dirt, partly obscured except for where the dim cones of sunlight that shone in through holes in the ceiling reached them. The caretaker, Harish, hadn't cleaned up this room in a while.

When he started forward, however, his foot hit something soft. The lantern revealed a Bulblin, lying face down before him. He gasped as he finally recognised the distorted mounds; they were monster corpses. Faronian arrows, tipped with black crow feathers, stuck in their bodies.

"Looks like there's been a battle here," Midna commented, for once not sounding insolent. A little concern even laced her voice when she continued, "You're sure that caretaker of yours is still alive?"

"I'm not sure of anything," he murmured as he started forward. A small creek, fed by rain and groundwater, meandered through the tree and filled the space with a soothing splashing sound. At a small bend in the brook, he came across the first monkey, grotesquely sprawled with its head partly bashed in.

"Dammit," he hissed and shone his lantern on three more primate corpses.

"No use crying over them. They're just animals, anyway." Midna appeared next to him with a rustle of hair, her arms folded.

"Every life is sacred to Farore," Link countered firmly. And to me, he thought.

But each cadaver he crossed further consolidated the reality of the place; such an onslaught of monsters did not bode well for the caretaker or the monkeys under his watch. At this point, he had also lost all hope the children were still there, and could only feel a crushing relief that, after a thorough investigation, the corpses around him were not of his friends.

The path led around the many shrines and ended at the back of the room, where the temple's centrepiece had been erected. It was a carving of a woman on a podium sitting cross-legged before a pool of clear water. Her arms lay draped in her lap, palms facing up. She had a fair, beautiful face and a peaceful smile, her eyes closed as if sunken in deep meditation. On her chest at the height of Link's heart, a metallic grate with a locked latch had been worked into the wood to protect the shimmering stone that lay inside.

Rusl had once told Link the story of the Spiritual Stone, the Kokiri Emerald, and Link had read about it many times as well. It was said that whoever held the stone in their palm was graced with Farore's blessing, and if a certain song was played in its vicinity, it could even open the doorway to the Sacred Realm itself. Link had once snuck his flute into the temple while the Ordonians were busy making their offerings and had softly played the fabled melody, the Song of Time. But no magical gateway or rift in the fabric of space and time had appeared, to his profound disappointment, and all it had done was bring Harish out of his hidey-hole and endear Link to the rugged-looking caretaker. Rusl had later assured him it was nothing but folklore, but Link still held on to the idea that the stone had magical properties.

In later years he had realised it was just a large chunk of green glass swathed in vines of brass. He very much doubted this was the real Spiritual Stone of the Kokiri.

Link approached the statue with flattened ears, kneeling and looking at the creator of life with reverence. He murmured a quiet thank you for his safe journey so far, and sent a prayer to the many dead primates around him. For a short moment, his birthmark seemed to prickle with warmth. He had always enjoyed the temple's quiet, serene aura of peace, now stifled and rendered sombre by the death it harboured.

A piercing screech suddenly resounded from above him, making him spin around and reach a hand to his sword hilt. The creature appeared on the statue's head and lunged at him, sending him tumbling back with a grunt. Where he had dreaded another monster, instead, he was met with short fur and a broad head. The animal fell into him but lost its hold and rolled to the ground, retreating quickly with its teeth bared. On its head, attached to a linen ribbon, was a dried red rose.

The female monkey!

"Hey, easy there," he soothed, crouching and holding a hand out to her. She flinched back a little, dragging one of her arms behind herself. Splitting her fur was a swelling cut crusted with old blood.

"Oh, good, one of the overgrown rats is still alive," Midna grumbled.

"They're not… rats. It's the same monkey that Talo ran after," Link mused, pulling out a handful of assorted nuts from a bag in his pack, and watched how the female hesitantly approached and snatched the food from his hand. "She's been to Ordon a couple of times to steal some food. I've always thought that was strange."

The monkeys of Faron were not very large—about the size of an average dog. They had uncommonly strong arms and legs as well as a long tail that helped them balance. Their main colours were brown, although the little female had a grey colouration that Link had not seen before. Her black button eyes, commonly filled with cunning and intelligence, were now glassy with fear and famine. As he attempted to lift her injured paw, she barely even noticed, enraptured with the food.

He poured a little iodine tincture on the cut before wrapping it quickly with linen. As the last hazelnut was gobbled up, she nuzzled the bandage, then looked up at Link's warm smile, before leaping up and wrapping her long arms around his neck in joy.

''It's okay, no problem,'' he chuckled as he hugged her like a small child. She took this as her cue to climb up onto his shoulder with her tail wrapped around his upper arm.

Having forgotten the meaning of silence yet again, Midna's voice rang out. "Aw, our little wolf has found a friend. What are we, now, the hero of monkeys?"

"At least I have one friend in this place," he retorted.

"Are you talking about me? I'm not your friend, I'm your master. Quit dawdling already and go find that forbidden power, whelp!"

He turned to the thunderstruck-looking monkey and scratched her brow. "Don't worry, she can't do anything to you. She's just a shadow." With her fingers wrapped around his thumb, he walked down the winding path towards the back of the tree where an ivy curtain hung in front of a small round opening.

"Ah, growing bold now that you've got an ally. Better not provoke me, silly wolf, I can strangle a Hinox."

"You mean, with your hair?" He peeked into the room where he knew the temple's caretaker had established his humble home, but only a modest straw sack for a bed, ruffled and unmade, a table with a burnt-down candle, and a mouldy loaf of bread could be seen in the light of his lantern.

"Yes, with my hair. So don't make me angry."

"Hinoxes aren't real."

"They're as real as you and me, my little wolf. Whatever are you looking for?"

Ignoring Midna—and her ignorance; Hinoxes were indeed not real—he turned to the monkey, who looked uneasily at the ground that kept ringing out as if a person was stuck somewhere beneath her perch's feet. "Do you know where Harish is?"

The animal reluctantly climbed off and hopped back to the statue of Farore, sitting down in front of the deity.

''No, I meant Harish, not the goddess,'' Link said as he approached.

But the monkey paid him no mind. Instead, she pawed at the red flower on her head until it fell to the ground. Standing up on her hind legs, she gently placed the rose into Farore's left palm that rested in her lap, until it looked as if she was holding the rose. Satisfied, the monkey stepped back, and Link frowned.

He was not prepared for what happened next. The stone inside its latticed confines began to glow green, prompting the podium to move sideways. Link stepped back in shock. Slowly Farore glided to the left on what seemed to be rails, and soon fell back to a standstill with a loud bang that echoed through the tree. A little tunnel had been revealed, glowing with fading afternoon light. The monkey turned to Link and regarded him intently. He could only stare back.

"You… You just… made the stone glow," he stammered. She bleeped and hopped through the narrow passageway.

Link approached the podium and gazed through the lattice at the green gem inside, now dormant again. The rose in Farore's palm looked like any rose, cut at the top with the stem woven into a loop that held it to the monkey's ribbon. It had seemed dry and wrinkly before; now it was vibrant with pearly beads of dew sprinkled across the blood-red petals. Slowly he picked it up. At once, the stone shone once again, and the podium moved back. A loud bleep from the monkey prompted him to drop the flower back in place, halting the statue's movement.

"What are you waiting for?" Midna chided. "Leave that piece of weed alone and go after the monkey."

"I always thought the stone was just decoration, nothing but a symbol for the actual Kokiri Emerald."

"Come on, stupid, this isn't the most impressive magic you've seen so far. Stop wasting time, already!"

Sighing, he turned from his dazed realisation and stepped through the narrow opening.

He barely caught himself. Before him, the temple tree's abyss stretched like a dark rift in the earth. He drew himself up and pressed his back against the bark, his eyes settling on a second, massive Faronian Giant that loomed in front of him across the gap. The breeze had turned into a gale that whipped at his clothes and made him sway dangerously. A single passage lay before him in the form of a rattling hanging bridge. Only half of the planks were remaining, and those still attached looked loose and cracked.

"How do we get across?" he called to the monkey. To his chagrin, the primate hopped off across the tumbling bridge, using the upper of the two parallel ropes expertly. He was left alone on his not-so-safe ledge.

If he held on to the upper rope and stepped along the lower that had once held the planks, he might make it. The thick pole they had been attached to, however, looked long past its prime. He cast his eyes about in search of another path, but there was none. On the opposite ledge, the monkey cackled and waved.

"Oh Hylia…" he mumbled as he tested the cordage.

"Triforce of Courage," Midna whispered smugly from beneath him. "What is courage even for, other than to endanger your life needlessly?"

With a deep huff, he set his gaze on the faraway ledge and gripped the upper rope tightly. The lower cable creaked like a drawn bowstring as he stepped forward. The further he went, the more it bent under his weight, until he could barely hold on to the upper rope, now above his head. With the wind pounding into him relentlessly, all he could do was hold on, step carefully, and keep going.

"How far down do you think this goes?" Midna chimed.

Ignoring her, he sped up, and the wind punished his ardour with a powerful burst that knocked into his back and made the ropes cry. They heaved and plummeted like a vessel on stormy waves. A plank that was still attached to the opposite rope snapped with a sudden jolt as he approached, dislodging his left foot from the rope. He gasped as he lunged for the upper cable and brought it to his chest, feet pedalling until he found his footing again. At the other ledge, the monkey squeaked at him, jumping up and down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" he grunted.

Finally, the opposite pole was within reach and he wrapped an arm around it, pulling himself up the rest of the way. For a short moment, he felt like he was slipping backwards, the void below him beckoning with its wide-open gullet. But his arms did not forsake him. With a wavering breath, he settled on his hands and knees on the safe platform, where he was greeted by the ecstatic monkey who jumped up his back and made him sway.

"I think the rat wants you dead," Midna stated plainly, and Link, annoyed, ignored her.

The ledge wrapped like a walkway around the trunk, and Link glimpsed another rope bridge further ahead. The monkey, however, beckoned him to the round door set into the tree that could be opened with another lever. But when he pressed down on it, the door would not budge. He tried again and heard a weight thud against the wall on the other side. Nothing more happened. Perhaps something is blocking the mechanism? he thought.

The monkey bleeped loudly and began scratching and biting at it, adding to the large canvas of grooves already marring the door.

"You've tried getting in before, haven't you?" Link asked. He turned to the door and touched the outer rim of the frame where the round block pressed against the wall and thus held it closed.

Taking out his knife, he began to carve away the wood right next to the door in search of its edge, which he soon found pressing heavily against the wall. He scraped away just enough to fit in the tip of his sword, then, with a silent apology to King Gustaf and Rusl, rammed the blade into the hole. The monkey watched him with wide eyes while he began to swing his blade from side to side, working it deeper and deeper into the fissure between the door and the wall. As his sword was halfway in, he levered open a gap, snaked his fingers through, and began to push as hard as he could. Slowly, the heavy wood circle began to roll up the incline of its blocked rail.

Link grunted under the strain. He had not expected the door to be this heavy. Quickly driving his sword through the opening, he was soon pushing with both hands and a foot while he inched himself through the gap. His wooden shield pressed painfully into his back. The monkey dashed below him into the room just before Link could not hold it any longer, and jumping aside he let the block crash back into place.

He shook his aching arms briefly, but a certain gloom about this next room made him wary. The chamber housed a circle of large carved tree trunks bearing the faces of owls, foxes, and hawks; totems, he realised. Their ghastly scowls made his skin prickle. Through the few small holes in the ceiling that ushered in slim rays of light, he saw something move on the middle totem.

Then, a soft gasp resounded from the other end of the room. ''Who's there?"

The monkey shrieked and raced towards the source of the call, raising an entire cacophony of monkey screams and cackles as well as overjoyed laughter from the only other non-primate in the room. "Minsuk! Yer finally foun' help!''

Across the chamber behind the totems, Link made out a large group of monkeys and the crooked form of an old man kneeling on the ground who stretched out his arms towards Minsuk hopping in his direction. His heart beat quicker; were any children among them?

A loud, ominous roar stopped his female monkey companion halfway across the room. Link held his sword tightly, his eyes locked on the lone creature sitting on the middle totem. He had initially thought it was a Bulblin, but upon closer inspection, he noticed greyish-white fur, a muscular body, and a strikingly red behind. His monkey companion gazed at the furry animal towering over her with her head lowered in submission. Link frowned. Something about this new fellow made him feel uncomfortable. The creature jumped onto a totem closer to Minsuk, and she ducked away, daunted.

"Back aff, Minsuk, before yer anger 'imself," the man in the back murmured.

"Is that you, Harish?" Link called, setting down his provisions bag and slowly approaching the first totem.

"Aye, who is dat? Dear Farore, doesn't matter. Scon Oi glad ter see yer, laddie!"

Link worked hard to decipher Harish's Borderland accent. The old man came from the plains far east of Timberfell, the Land of Rain. "It's me, Link of Ordon. Are there any children with you?" he called.

After a short pause in which the creature on the totems jumped closer still, Harish replied softly, "Link? Loike, the fluteboy Link? Why are ye at al' de way back 'ere, laddie? Naw, I'm sorry, it's jist me an' de gang. Listen, dat clodpoll up there is Ook. He's de alpha male. Yer jist entered 'is territory whaich is… very bad."

A ray of light from a hole in the ceiling fell onto the shadowy creature's face, and Link realised it was another monkey. It was much larger than the others, with a light brown face and a prominent jaw; a baboon, according to what he had learned from Harold's bestiary. Already upon looking at its eyes, he could see it was up to no good. And that look was not the usual cheekiness a monkey called its character; this was malevolence, a mad gaze impossible to judge, like that of a rabid dog.

''Be careful!'' Harish called out. ''There's somethin' wrong wi' 'imself! I'm not sure wat 'appened, but a while back—Ah, luk oyt! He's got a—"

The baboon screeched loudly and brandished a curved object in its right claw, tossing it to the side. Link did not know what to make of it, still advancing carefully, until a sudden sharp blow to his left cheek made his ears ring. He staggered, surprised by the blindside that had come seemingly out of nowhere.

"—boomerang!" Harish finished.

Then the baboon charged.

With a yelp Link hopped out of the way and caught a claw strike on his shield. Ook stood before him, a tall male puffed up to his full height with a ribcage easily twice the size of Link's torso. Feral canines flashed up inside his gaping maw. For a brief moment, Link wished he was a wolf again, only to have his own set of savage teeth he could bare to compete with the male baboon. As he was now, the monkey would have little trouble breaking every bone in Link's body.

"Oi tink yer might be able ter reason wi' 'imself if—" Harish's words were drowned out by another of Ook's shrill screams.

The baboon took a swipe that Link blocked, then tried to bite at Link's arm which held the blade, his teeth colliding instead with hard steel that made him howl. Rusl's masterfully crafted sword was coated in a gooey layer of slobber. Link attempted a blow of his own but sliced thin air as the baboon jumped out of the way with impossible speed.

"Please, don't hurt 'imself!" Harish called from the back. "He used ter be such a sweetheart, before de monsters came."

Look at the sweetheart now, Link thought angrily as he was pummelled by a hefty claw that catapulted him three feet across the ground. His loss in verticality prompted Ook to paw and claw at him like a cat would a lace ball, and growing frustrated with Link's shield, buried his teeth in the painted hardwood while scowling at Link for all he was worth.

I didn't come here to be a monkey's chewtoy! Link thought, growing more furious by the second as he watched Jaggle's lovely engraving of the Tree of Ordona being mauled by the monkey's teeth.

His proximity to Ook's face, however, allowed Link to take notice of an odd protrusion that gave the baboon this countenance of a constant frown. Like a carapace it clung to the baboon's forehead. It was scaly, with thick little hairs and a wavy surface of a sickly, brownish yellow. Six wiry legs departed from it and contracted around the baboon's skin; the sight made Link retch. The phantom taste of insect goo doused his tongue.

Is that…?

Letting go of his sword, he swung his fist in a wide punch directly onto the carapace.

Ook spat the shield out, hissing with his maw wide open, and was met with a sunken brow of fury and contempt.

"I've just about had it with you," Link growled and pushed on the monkey's shoulder so hard Ook reeled like a drunkard and collapsed to his belly. Disregarding every form of decorum he'd been brought up with, Link gave the baboon a vicious kick straight to his glowing red buttocks.

Ook positively hooted in pain. His flashing black eyes sizzled with betrayal. Braying like an overworked donkey he threw his arms down in a teenage tantrum, kicked at the nearest totem that wobbled under the impact, snatched up the boomerang he had hurled at Link moments earlier, and scrambled back up his signature trunk to form a curl of savagely wounded pride.

But Link was far from done with him. After he had picked up his gnawed shield and shaken off the clusters of moss from his slobbered sword, he stuck them back to their respective holsters and, seething with black fury, plodded towards the totem. Ook screeched at his approach and lobbed the boomerang at him again, which Link caught on his bracer and flicked to the side with such an instantaneous reflex that even he was shocked by it. The hard strike to his forearm didn't even bother him.

With a running start, he threw his weight against the totem. The column leaned back dangerously, and Ook wailed in protest. Another push dislodged the base from its crust of moss and compacted dirt. His final, hardest shove caused Ook to swan dive back down to level ground in a flurry of fur, flashing teeth, and pulsing butt cheeks.

"Ah, Oi can't watch…" Harish moaned in the background.

Link rounded Ook's considerable posterior and knelt before the dazed monkey's head, slipping out his knife. One of the carapace's legs had already come off. With utmost caution he lined up his blade and rammed it sideways into the thing, eliciting a monstrous screech from it. Gagging, he pulled it free and hacked off its insectile head. It wiggled in its death throes one final time, then curled in on itself and went still.

"Shadow Insect," he confirmed softly, letting out a long breath and sitting back, wincing. When he looked down at himself and saw the claw damage done to his lovely new tunic, a moan escaped him.

"Well spotted," Midna whispered beneath him. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

After checking the baboon's pulse and inspecting the tiny perforations on the animal's forehead where the Shadow Insect had likely injected its debilitating venom, Link jogged to where the liberated monkeys milled around Minsuk and helped the old caretaker to his feet.

Harish had a large jaw and swinging ears that made him resemble his furry friends more than the Human being he commonly represented. His thin, bare torso was browned by sunlight, wrinkled like a week-old shirt, and partly covered by countless grey tresses that hung like a fly curtain from his scalp. He wore nothing but a grey skirt and a short green toga that left his right shoulder exposed. He was not a very pleasant man to look at, but what his bony face lacked in appeal he made up for with the kindness in his eyes and the warmth in his voice.

"Farore bless yer, Link," he said. "I'm so sorry aboyt Ook. He worked grand on yer, didn't he?"

"What happened? Why are you all in here?"

Harish gave a crooked smile and looked up at him plaintively. "Please, laddie, hav yer got somethin' more substantial than grubs and muddy water in dat pack over there?"

It only now occurred to Link that the caretaker had likely spent the days since the invasion trapped in this room with only a mad baboon as his jailer. He rushed to retrieve the pack and pressed his waterskin into the old man's hands, followed by a satchel of dried apple slices and his linen bundle of flatbreads. Uli had even included some rock candy which he broke in half and gave one piece to Harish and the other to Minsuk, who was almost immediately accosted for it by the other monkeys.

Under loud chewing Harish recounted the first monster attack in the chamber of offerings which had, to his heart's agony, felled a good number of monkeys before they had been herded across the bridge by black monstrosities—Shadow Beasts, Link surmised, who had likely been too heavy for the hanging bridge—to the totem room, where Ook had shown first signs of madness. The baboon had damaged the two doors' mechanism and attacked anyone who dared approach the exits. Even with all the monkeys combined, Harish had not been able to overpower him.

"Minsuk stayed in de chamber of worship an' sealed de door with her flower ter keep de bulk of the monsters oyt. Oi thought she'd been killed long ago."

"She came to Ordon last week and stole some food out of the barn," Link said. "Now, I think she wanted us to follow her here. You've been locked in here all this time?"

"Oi tink so. Believe me, laddie, fresh water 'as never tasted dis grand. Thankfully there was enoof insects, lichen, an' mushrooms in 'ere ter keep us alive. Barely."

Ook stirred to life then, looking around himself dazedly, and the monkeys all shied away.

"Wake up, yer big brute, an' say sorry ter Link," Harish snapped. "I've 'alf a mind ter flay yer behind meself for de grand ol' time yer've given us in here. Yer can be glad Link spared ye. An' pluk up dat boomerang of yers before someone trips over it. Hmpf."

Link absently ran a finger over his throbbing left temple while he watched as the baboon reached for the curvy object he had tossed at him earlier. This was how Ook had hit him in the side of the head without touching him since a boomerang flew in a curve. In Timberfell, they made them in bulk for their annual Wood fairs. He had tried one out before, but had never been capable of throwing them accurately. The bow had always been his favoured ranged weapon. He was surprised, however, to meet a baboon with enough wits to throw it accurately. Somehow, this made him dislike the big alpha monkey only more.

"Link, why ye ask me if dare were children wi' me 'ere?" Concerned, Harish scratched at his neck where a nasty, three-pronged welt had partly scabbed over. Link was sure it matched Ook's claws. Blasted ape.

"Our village was attacked several days ago and the children taken," he replied while he fished out Uli's disinfectant and handed it over. "I had hoped to find them here. That, and something else. I…"

He looked at the old keeper and saw in the gaunt, wrinkled face an individual much like Coro, innocent and nearly beaten down by the invasion. Again, the same hesitation plagued him as it had in Ordon and with the oil merchant, the indecision if he should reveal what he had been told by the light spirits, suffer the confusion, the disbelief, or perhaps even the reverence, of the ones he would confide in.

What if word got out? What if not only the Inquisition, but the royal family learned of his role? If anyone told them, surely the whole kingdom would be at his heels, overwhelming him with expectations. Ordona had said that only he could bring back the light. What if he failed? Would the world forever remain plunged in Twilight? Would anyone ever forgive him? He had no choice, he had to succeed.

But what if he couldn't?

"Laddie?" Harish asked, gently prodding his shoulder. "Yer looked shook for a moment dare. Everythin' al' roi?"

A pained expression overcame Link, accompanied by a tight feeling in his chest. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. "Sorry, I… I'm okay. It's nothing."

To his surprise, Minsuk wriggled her large head under his arm and snuggled closer, bleeping at him. When he ruffled her fur with a forced smile, she pressed her tiny hands to his knee.

"Don't be loike dat, Link, Oi can clap somethin' is botherin' yer. Minsuk can, too. Tell us what's wrong."

Had it only been Harish facing him, Link would likely have clammed up and found some sort of excuse. But something in the way Minsuk pawed at his knee, his arm, fiddled with his gloved left hand, and looked up at him with her black button eyes, seemed almost like a promise; that her Human caretaker would never allow Link's secret to leave the confines of these carved giants. And though Harish likely mistook her display as a simple demand for affection, to Link it felt as if she spoke to his very soul. From one animal to another. As if he could perfectly understand what she wanted him to feel.

Trust. Hope. Courage.

And so Link told him. His first encounter with Ordona, then Faron, and the monkey spirit's revelation of what Link had been chosen to do. It was a short tale, told in only a few sentences, leaving out everything but what was relevant. By the end of it, he could feel the back of his hand glow with warmth as if in praise. Surely it was just his nervousness.

Harish seemed to notice how Link's attention had drifted to his hand, for the caretaker reached out and gently touched the fingerless glove that hugged it. "Faron spoke of a mark dat was impossible ter fake, so I'd nu de one destined ter enter de temple's catacombs. Show me yer hand, laddie."

Link tensed on instinct, bringing his arm close to his chest. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's just a stupid birthmark. It doesn't mean anything." 'You blasphemers, you unholy bigots, branding a child with this holiest of symbols! Shame on you! The royal Inquisition will hear of this! You'll be flogged, flayed, hanged!'

Shivering, Link suppressed the harsh memory that had ingrained itself into his brain for all these years. Years in which no outsider had ever glimpsed his controversial mark again.

"Is it de mark of de Triforce?" Harish asked kindly. "De holy symbol worshipped by al' Hylians?"

"It just resembles it. One triangle is bigger than the others, so it's not even equal." Link readied himself to sift through his extensive arsenal of verbal proofs that the mark was harmless, utterly innocent, not worth any attention.

Until Minsuk grabbed the gauntlet rim and tugged at it, revealing the bottom left and right triangles. He pulled his hand back with a gasp.

"It's all good, laddie, I've seen enoof," Harish said, then turned to the monkey. "Yer daft gal," he exclaimed, flicking Minsuk's tail off of Link's shoulder. "Is dis why yer broot Link 'ere? Oi shud 'av known you'd scamper after de gallant hero loike a stricken barmaid. Ye 'av any thoughts lef for yer auld Papa Harish, hm?"

Minsuk screeched and plucked up the dried apple slice he was holding, sitting down with her back to him hastily munching on the snack. If Link didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was pouting.

"Chosen One…" Harish muttered then and performed a gesture that would graft itself to Link's mind with barbs sharper than even the pilgrim's angry words. Harish bowed his torso so deeply that his chest touched the grass, wiry hands crawling over the soil to seek Link's knees before him.

"What are you…?" Gasping, Link backed away.

"Forgive me for not seein' yer resplendence sooner, Chosen One. Me eyes were blinded by hunger an' fear. Me saviour, me knight, me hero!"

"Harish, stop! Please!"

Silver eyes squeezed shut, the old man touched his forehead to the clover. "Oi gie meself ter yer completely, Chosen One. Farore speaks through yer, vessel of de gods, touched by her Grace 'erself."

Link felt bile rise in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes; no, this was wrong. Harish was a friend who'd once simply enjoyed listening to Link as the boy played his flute for him. Each year they would meet at the temple for Farore's Feast, eat together, share jokes, laugh with the other Ordonians, and play with the monkeys. Each year they would behave like simple people showing their gratitude to the goddess of life for a day, before returning home and forgetting about each other until the next Farore's Feast.

"Harish, it's just me," Link whimpered, scrambling for the elder's hands and urging him off the ground.

Seeing Harish's unfettered adoration confirmed a fear Link had only nibbled at before, his young mind yet unable to properly emulate the scene. He saw it now, clear as spring water, and it was worse than royal interest or inquisitorial prosecution.

So much worse.

For those beady eyes, as soon as they met Link's, widened in awe and fear; fear of him, of his words, his actions against impiety should Harish dare revert back to hearty companionship. Fear of what Link had brought with himself to this holy temple; the revelation that a catastrophe was underway, a plight worse than war. Darkness walked in Link's every footstep. He was a herald of doom, chosen by necessity and a future that would hang in the balance until Link tipped it with their devotion spurring his heels, or failed if their veneration proved not strong enough. Failure would mark the hero as an enemy even worse than the king of Twilight he was tasked to defeat, an enemy having defied the adoration of his followers, and betrayed them at the very core of their belief, their trust. An enemy deserving of eternal hatred.

When Harish pulled his hands back and once more flung himself to the ground, Link saw not only a friend but the old pilgrim prostrate before him, his train of followers all folded over like tiles on a roof, fanning out across the Ordonian glade. Grovelling at his feet, chanting unfunded praises that sang of future bold and daring feats he might never accomplish. Mayor Bo soon appeared among them, and Jaggle, and Pergie, Hanch and Sera, his master Fado… Rusl, Uli, Ilia… Colin!

No! Get up, dammit! I'm not a saint! I'm not a god!

The deadly silence greeting him as Harish stared, dumbstruck, and every last monkey cackle echoed to stillness, told Link he had yelled his last thoughts out loud.

"Please, I… I need you as a friend, not a disciple," Link begged. "All I know is that I have a strange symbol on my hand and that I'm supposed to save the people from Twilight. Can you tell me what I must do? Can you… help me figure this out?"

At last, Harish's blinking eyes seemed to focus not on the shining aura of the goddesses' Chosen One he saw around Link, but the small person sitting at the centre, holding out scratched hands as if pleading to be picked out of a crevasse.

"Yer roi, of course… Oi mean, yer are me saviour, but maybe Oi'm meant ter be yer guide in exchange," the woodsman murmured and regarded Link thoughtfully. "De cycle 'as started again, den. And yer spoke ter Faron. Aye, Oi 'av spoken wi' Faron a few times too durin' me time as caretaker, after hours of meditation an' a little… herbal help."

The relief on Link's face triggered even more shock on Harish's. "You mean you've seen him too?" Smiling, Link took in these news with hope. Perhaps he'd been mistaken, and meeting a light spirit face-to-face wasn't as impossible as he'd thought. That he wasn't as special as he had dreaded to be.

"Err, kind of. Oi'd seen de idea of 'imself. An outline, if yer will. Is dat what yer saw, too?"

The perplexity in Harish's eyes told Link he should reply with a simple nod, and not stoke the fires of reverence more than his mere presence and newly given title already did. So much for not being special. Damn.

"Oi 'ad thought, wi' such a gloomy future bodin', he'd 'av given sum warnin' ter de likes of me."

Link eagerly changed the topic. "Is it here? This power he spoke of?"

"Och aye, it's 'ere. Roi under us, mind ye. Sealed away so dat no ill-fated wanderer might take it who is not worthy of 'oldin' it."

The man's countenance suddenly grew pained, and Link's heart seized with fright. What would happen next? An offering for his good fortune, self-imposed whiplashes to Harish's back as punishment for speaking out of turn?

To Link's luck, Harish's age had settled with a mild senility that made it easy for complex emotions—and thankfully certain urges of self-imposed whippings—to fade quickly and be replaced with the next urgent emotion.

"Link, sweet Farore, yer… Naw, dis isn't roi! Why did it 'av ter 'appen now? Couldn't it 'av waited foive more years?"

"What do you mean?"

The caretaker took a deep breath and frowned heavily. "De seal dat binds dis power, it's… It takes de form of an abomination. One dat must be fought ter free it. Dis ting, it 'as killed many before, adventurers an' buzzies who foun' ways past de statue. Yer… yer jist a wee boy."

Rusl would have earned himself a seething glare for such a comment. But Link, for the first time in his teenage life, felt relief to hear someone belittling him; especially someone who had called him a saviour only moments before. And Harish's tone told Link he did not mean his words in a patronising way, like the Hyrulean knight, or spoke with Rusl's level of paternal fear that bordered more on paranoia than justifiable worry.

This time, Link felt inclined to agree; he was just a boy tasked with saving the world. With fighting abominations and wielding ungodly powers, realities that even his wildest nightmares hadn't conjured up. And because it was real, and there seemed no escape other than success, it made Link almost wish he had never woken up that fateful morning of his departure.

But lamenting his fate would not make things better; it would not bring back the children. He would fight dozens of abominations, and free a hundred worlds, if it meant his friends were safe.

"That's not important," he answered. "Can you tell me where to find it?"

"So 'tiz important! If somethin' 'appened ter yer down dare, Oi cud never forgive meself."

"Then I'll just have to find a way to kill it before it kills me."

It wasn't the best answer he could have given, judging by Harish's grimace, but the caretaker stood with a deep huff and trundled, surrounded by his flock of monkeys, to the totem circle. "Oi shud not defy a light spirit's callin'. Forgive me, Chosen One. Dis way."

With Ook's aid, Harish tossed one of the pillars over much like Link had done to knock the baboon from his high horse earlier. Beneath it lay a moss-covered trapdoor which Harish tugged open, revealing a narrow hole in the ground leading into dusty blackness. Link peered into it, the clump of fear tightening in his belly.

"Oi… Oi wud go witcha if Oi cud be of help, but I'd probably jist be a hindrance," Harish muttered. "Say de word though, and Oi'll fetch me bow."

"No, Harish, stay up here. I'll be fine."

Nodding, Link watched as Harish resisted with every fibre of his being the urge to drop to his knees and continue genuflecting. "Yer better hurry, daylight is fadin'," he said instead in earnest. "Please, be careful, Link."

It seemed much too surreal what was happening. Link considered turning around and running out the door once more, and never mind if it was stuck. The hole before him was a black gullet ready to swallow him, with just a shade of lighter grey showing the bottom several feet below. Ordona's reassurance, Faron's prophecy, Harish's worship, and Midna's harsh judgement after the brief fight at the entrance, replayed in his mind. Fate was calling on him to take a leap of faith, of courage, and not only to face whatever abomination lurked in the temple's depths.

Once he went into this hole, there would be no turning back. He would embark on his journey of resistance to deliver the world from the Twilight, to free the people that had been smothered in it, and to stop it from getting any worse.

He—and he alone—had been given this chance to fight back. There was no other choice.

He sent a silent prayer to the goddesses that he would become strong enough to succeed.

Then, with a deep huff, he jumped.

000