Link's body was cold, but the light drifting across his body was warm. Before even opening his eyes he could almost see the golden sunlight filtering through something green – he could smell it, the warm tang of plant life all around him and the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.
He pried his weary eyelids apart and found the pink leaves of those very cherry blossoms above him, an evening sun shining merrily through, illuminating all the tiny veins within.
What… what happened?
He strained his memory backwards. Clearly he was no longer imprisoned in Fort Tabantha. There had been a prison guard – a guard fed up with Linebeck's continued attempts to pry open Link's mind and the secrets he held, someone willing to die for the chance to end Link's life.
With a grunt, Link tried to sit up. Pain flared at once throughout his battered, beaten body, especially fierce all through his right arm and back. He went still with a hoarse whimper, tightly shutting his eyes. And somehow, the instant he stopped moving, the pain all drifted away.
The ground trembled beneath his back – Goddesses, how is that not hurting? – and he heard soft footsteps slowly approaching. A truly bizarre face came into his field of vision – ears like colorful ferns, four owlish eyes set into a face covered in long, white hair.
It's… it's the creature that found me, he thought, unsettled and yet curious. The creature didn't seem malevolent, and yet he couldn't move – if it did end up being dangerous, he had no way to defend himself.
He was naked, he realized, his body stripped of his former rags and the dead guard's armor. With that discovery he noticed other sensations throughout his being. There was something smooth and cool wrapped around his chest, his arms, his legs – everywhere he was injured. Which was… almost everywhere.
The creature above him gave a soft, horselike snort, and turned away. Link felt a strange sense of loss as it left – for reasons he could not name, he wanted it to stay. But as he lay in the peace beneath the cherry tree, the creature did not return, and he drifted off to sleep.
When he awakened, the creature had returned. It regarded him, as it had before, and then it left in a similar fashion. He lay awake for longer this time, contemplating its mysterious apparent rescue and his own odd lack of pain. Although he couldn't move much, confined by his cocoon of what seemed to be an array of leaves and ferns, he felt convinced that the creature was benevolent. At the very least he had more energy now than when he first woke up beneath the cherry tree.
Eventually he fell asleep again, and when he opened his eyes the creature was there to greet him. He sighed this time, lonely and confused enough by now that he murmured, "I don't suppose you can tell me what you are."
He felt a sudden, distinct impression of mountains, forests, all manner of wildlife. The Lord of the Mountain, this creature called itself.
Link stared at it, his heart beating faster as he pieced together what had just happened. "The… Lord of the Mountain?" he said slowly, and the creature dipped its head as if in a bow. Link studied it curiously. "So… you can communicate."
Well, of course it could communicate. The Lord of the Mountain seemed affronted and pawed the ground with a cloven hoof.
Link managed half a smile – a movement that felt foreign and rusty on his face. "So where am I, then? What happened?"
He had been gravely injured. The Lord of the Mountain carried him here, to its paradisiacal realm, to recover.
At that Link felt something sour come into his mouth, twisting it into a frown. "But – why?" he asked quietly. He thought of his right arm, broken and shattered beyond repair. He remembered his fiery words to Linebeck – that breaking his arms didn't matter, that he was fighting against Ganondorf's regime simply by occupying their attention. I'd made my peace with dying.
No… that's not it. I… I hoped I would die in there. I expected it. Because it was more comforting than the idea of facing Zelda as I am now, with a useless sword arm, a broken body, the brand of a traitor on my back…
"Why did you save me?" he asked the Lord of the Mountain, a note of bitterness in his voice. "I was better off dead."
But he still had a mission, did he not? There was something only he could do. A sword that only he could wield.
Link swallowed, suddenly on edge, fighting to keep his face impassive. How do you know about that? I burned the message! No one else could know! "You're working for Ganondorf, then," he accused.
The Lord of the Mountain turned on its heel and vanished, incredibly offended. But it reappeared again, the next day.
"Sorry," Link mumbled.
The Lord of the Mountain felt some annoyance, but brushed it away. A servant of Ganondorf would not want the sword drawn, it reasoned. But the Lord of the Mountain did want the sword drawn. It was not a servant of Ganondorf. It encouraged Link to look around.
"I can't do that when I'm all wound up in plant bandages," he pointed out wryly.
A good point. The Lord of the Mountain lightly scraped the ground, and Link felt the leaves around his body receding.
With a grunt, he pushed himself to his knees. Pain flared up across his body, splitting across his back, arcing like lightning through his right arm, pulsing through his chest. Link's head swam at the sudden onslaught, his breaths coming short and sharp.
There was a strange, distorted whicker, and the Lord of the Mountain lowered its head. Link grasped its flowing mane with his left hand, and gently it lifted him to his feet.
He realized at once that the cherry tree he'd been lying beneath was far larger than he'd expected, easily as thick around as a house, with massive gnarled roots twisting across the lush forest floor before disappearing. It was very oddly shaped – its trunk almost resembled some sort of face, with a horizontal scar like a mouth and a knot like a nose, and branches like bushy eyebrows above.
Slowly the Lord of the Mountain walked towards the tree, offering Link support with every step. Link grit his teeth – the simple act of moving around sent pain throughout his body, and his weakened legs trembled with each halting, unsteady step. After his first look up at the massive cherry tree he kept his eyes on the ground, wary of tripping over the thick undergrowth and doing even more damage to himself. He didn't lift his head again until the Lord of the Mountain stopped moving.
His gaze was drawn at once to a blade standing embedded in a triangular pedestal at the foot of the great tree. It was easily the finest sword he had ever seen, and at once he wanted to reach out and touch it. He fought the urge, his brow furrowed, glancing back down at his ruined right arm, a swollen, disfigured mess.
The Lord of the Mountain was confused by his hesitation. Why not take the sword?
"Why do you think?" Link muttered bitterly, his heart clenching. "This is, undoubtedly, the sword Zelda wanted me to find. But – but I'm no use to her like this." He exhaled sharply. "At the point where escape became impossible, I was most useful as a prisoner. Then at least I could do something – I could keep them busy, at least for a while. Now… just look at me." He glared at his right arm. "I'm better off to her dead."
The Lord of the Mountain wondered whether Zelda would agree – whether Zelda would want him to remain a prisoner, brutally tortured, just barely kept alive until the enemy gave up. Whether Zelda would see him alive and be disappointed.
Link could see Zelda's kind face in his imagination's eye. No, she would be abhorred by the idea. "She hates it when I get injured," he murmured. "She… wouldn't want me to die."
What plans they had discussed… hopes and dreams for their future, together. Then Ganondorf's takeover, the fall of the kingdom into his despicable hands, and their efforts to form the rebellion and eventually retake the kingdom. Those plans all depended on me being able to fight.
He swallowed. "I'm still not useful to her like this," he said quietly. "I couldn't lead raids, I couldn't assassinate choice nobles… I definitely couldn't go up against Ganondorf himself."
The Lord of the Mountain blinked at him intently. He could be healed.
"Can I?" Link asked skeptically, glancing pointedly at his arm. "I can barely move!"
His wounds would take quite some time to heal. But heal they would – the Lord of the Mountain could guarantee that. It had been using its own powers to heal him from the beginning. It could heal Link, but only if Link was willing.
"Of course I'm willing," Link scoffed indignantly. "You think I want to be in pain?"
The Lord of the Mountain was not convinced. Did Link truly believe his wounds could be healed? Did have hope in what he could be when he recovered? Or had he consigned himself already to death?
"I'm better off to her dead," Link could hear himself saying only moments ago, and he winced, feeling a flicker of shame.
"I… won't be the same," he murmured, glancing once more at the sword in the pedestal. "What happened in there… even if the wounds heal, I was… in a dark place. I… did want to die. I'd given up hope."
But he could get that back. He could heal from the non-visible wounds, too. It would mean taking up the sword, fighting back despite how he'd been beaten down, despite the wounds he'd suffered.
He couldn't tell, this time, if the thoughts had been his or the Lord of the Mountain. Maybe there wasn't a difference – maybe there never had been.
Link let out a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, feeling the anguish engulfing him from head to toe. His gaze settled once more on the sword in the pedestal.
"I don't know if I can have hope again just yet," he murmured. "But… I'd like to."
The Lord of the Mountain began helping him back to the bed of ferns and flowers he had been resting in, binding up his wounds once more in greenery. It was good enough for now.