Legend of Zelda: Book of Mobius

—Remembering something someone did or “said.”— Thinking AncientHyrulian

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Reno ambled along the catwalk towards the North Gate, eyeing the mass of humanity walking below him. The conversation that filtered up was just the general buzz, nothing new or interesting. There were only pairs gathering, eyeing the Provost Guards that kept close watch.



The young boy, along with the rest of the Kakariko, suspected that Link was the culprit. Not that he would ever speak of his wondering aloud. The blue-eyed thief was the darling of the Lower Levels. If there was a job that needed to be done, one went to Link. The Provost was getting tricky, using spies in the Lower Level that were harder to detect to try to learn of the thief’s identity and if there were any jobs in progress. Of course, if the Provost were smarted, he’d try to learn more of the thieves that weren’t associated with the Thief Lord.



Evidently, Narein was coming down hard on the Mayor, accusing of him organizing the hit in Stalfos Treasury and Trust. There were rumors that someone hit Malo Enterprises, as well. The boy had a bet going that the mayor would declare Martial Law within a week until the jewels was found.



Link needs to hurry the hell back. Reno groused, dragging his grease tinged fingers through his wild spikes. I know he’s doin’ a big job, but if he keeps sneaking out of the city, they’ll piece it. He’s been gone for three nights. Cripes. I can’t believe that he’s going after such renowned gems. Where the hell is he gonna sell ‘em?



The redhead usually followed the teen around faithfully, though Link never allowed him to participate in any hits. The long-eared teen was mostly a sneak thief, although he was a decent filch and con-man. Link didn’t even have to try to earn trust. It swam his way and the thief, much like Reno, had no qualms about using it to his own ends.



The boy yawned and continued to stroll above the throng, trying to think up some entertainment until the teen returned. A new pile of rags just in his path along the shadows caught the budding thief’s attention. Reno blinked before crouching in front of the stumblebum.



“How tha hell didja get up here, ya bindle? Not everyone knows of my trails.” The redhead murmured, keeping out of striking distance. All he could see was a dirty mop, though the smell was near overwhelming. Dirt, sweat, blood, urine and deep musk cloyed in the delicate nose; the boy holding up a sleeve to guard his senses. “Mahn-ya! Yer foul! Stay on tha streets where ya kin beg!”



The rags shifted, oily head lifted to show glazed blue eyes from the gloom. Reno stared as a chill ran up his spine.



“Link?” the redhead reached out and stroked the bangs from the forehead, shocked at the cool touch and pallor of his skin beneath the grit. “Cripes! What happened ta ya?”



“Wolf.” The teen grunted roughly. The shorter boy cocked a brow skeptically; sure he misunderstood the thief’s word. Link blink lazily, head beginning to droop. His breathe scraping against his dry throat. “Forget it…listen…Reno…ya gotta do sum’in’ fer me.”



“Sure, Link! Whatcha need?”



The blurry-eyed thief pressed the sapphire against the younger boy’s chest. The redhead blinked and began to flush with excitement and worry. “No wonder ya dance wi’ dis gilly…cain’t wait ta meet tha others.”



“Reno…take it ta Gramps.” The dirty hand grasped the boy’s chin and forced the violet orbs to meet his. “That thing’z hot as hell. Git it ta Gramps.”



The boy frowned and nodded. Of course it was hot! How could he act as if Reno didn’t know? Maybe he wasn’t aware of all the upheaval he’d created already. He tucked the sapphire into his shirt, glancing back at the blue-eyed thief. Link had slouched back into a lump of rags.



“Don’ die Link.” Reno begged softly, voice breaking as worry crossed his young brow.



Link opened his eye to a slit; bother passing over his dirty face as he took in the budding thief. “Reno, don’ snivel like a babe an’ do tha job. I’m not dien’, I’m jus’ worn out.”



The redhead flushed as dark as his hair, nodding once before scampering back down the walk. It was good to have the long-eared teen back. Excitement always seemed to follow.

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The injured thief watched Reno dash off with annoyance barely veiling pain. He should have asked the boy to return with water and food. His stomach was gnawing on itself and he had a headache that pounded in time with every noise. His body was too cold and he shivered in his collection of rags. His vision was degraded, but not nearly so bad as on top of the mountain. The wounds were infected and there was nothing he could do with his limited supplies.



Worst return ever. Link groused silently. Couldn’t make it to Gramps and had to wait for Reno and drag him into this mess. Hell and Damnation. I’ve never had such a rough time with a job.



The thief faded off, his thoughts becoming disjointed. He was jostled about, but unable to rise from the stupor to discover why. Voices he recognized, Marks and Renny, barely broke through the fog that enveloped the dazed mind.



Warm water, blazing pain, freezing air, and hushed sounds of comfort invaded the sleep. He was floating in darkness woven with images that were out of focus and impossible to decipher.



When his eyes finally opened, all he saw was a bright orange blur dancing above his head. He watched it dully, his body throbbing from unfinished healing. He watched the blur slowly come into focus and become a candle flame flickering on a rickety aluminum table. The thief sensed only one other person in the room and it took only a heartbeat to identify it as his Grandfather.



“You’ve made a fine mess this time, Hero.” The old man started, slowly settling next to the teen’s pallet, joints cracking. “What do ya ‘ave to say fer yerself?”



“There wuzza wolf.” The thief muttered thickly, rubbing the sand from his eyes. He really didn’t feel like defending his actions. He knew he botched the job and he didn’t need his Gramps pointing it out. He made it and had the stone to boot, who cares how he managed to get away?



“Nareinian Militia is in Kakariko. You didn’t shake them well enough that they didn’t follow you.” Gramps pointed out dryly, watching his grandson scowl. He’d been worried about the troublesome boy, especially when the redheaded terror broke into their flat when the old man couldn’t answer to his clap fast enough.



—“Link said ta give this to ya.” He murmured against the withered ear, pressing the sapphire against the old man’s chest. The purple eyes were restless, flickering about the flat as if he suspected to be jumped at any moment.



Fear thudded through Jin’s veins, imagining the condition the boy had to be in for him to trust the gem with the scamp. Everything he’d been working towards would be ruined if something happened to Link. “Get Widower Marks and Renny Lambert. Tell them I’ll pay them pretty if they fetch my grandson.” —



The actual wounds could have been much worse. If the punctures on his left shoulder had gone deeper, he’d have needed medical attention they couldn’t afford. The same with the multiple lacerations on his right shoulder and the surprising size and amount of bruises on his legs were impressive.



—“He’s lost a lot of blood, Master Jin.” Tris told him quietly, eyes tracing the still, molted form. “He needs care better than mine. Take him to the hospice. It’s a miracle he survived this long. If he sleeps for a few days, he might just make it, but the hospice will ensure it. His body is handling it better than his mind is.”



She paused and looked troubled. “He’ll appear normal when he wakes, but he won’ be. It’ll take months for his body to replenish his blood supply to normal levels. His vision will still be bad, he’ll miss things…make mistakes.”



Tris paused and gave the quiet old man a stern look. “I kin guess what he’s been up to, Master Jin.” She warned. “Don’t send him on some fool errand. He won’ make it back if you do.”



Jin didn’t say anything, merely staring at the curly haired woman blandly. She sighed, seeing the futility in such a warning. She pulled out a glass flask from her shirt. It was half filled with a clear, thick liquid. Unscrewing the cap, Tris pulled a small leather pouch from her chest. She tipped the powder into the flask, capping and shaking it quickly.



“Angel Dust and Fire Water. Packs a punch, but he’ll be running on empty when the effects wear off. A gulp or two will make ‘im feel like a god.” She swirled the now crimson liquid before handing it to the old man. “Be grateful. If Link hadn’ helped me all those times, I wouldn’ waste such an expensive mix on him.” —



He listened to the thief relate the job from the beginning, carefully helping him sip tea when the boy’s throat rasped audibly. Gramps was proud how he’d handled the situation in general.



“Has the Yards made the connection?” Link finally asked after a moment of silence.



“Yes and no. Malo hasn’t sent any armed men, but messengers are camping out with the Nareinians. Things are heating up down here. You’ve been out fer a week. Trisana says that yer main problem was blood loss, infection and lack of food. Ye’ll be good to go tonight with a little help of a drink she left. We need to get that treasure before tha world crashes down on tha Lower Levels. Now that mudlark knows fer sure of our game, we’ll need to finish quick.”



His grandson remained stoic, eyes fastened to the dirty rafters. Jin continued to speak, mostly about the gossip of the city.



“We could just cut the jewels and have them set in gold, sell ‘em that way.” The teen interrupted.



Gramps only blinked for a moment before sighing. He should have seen this coming. The boy was getting edgy and unsure about following through. “You’ll find those stones nigh impossible to cut, Hero. Don’t worry yer bare head. It’ll all be over soon.”



“What am I gonna do after this, Gramps?” The fourteen yeard old looked at his grandfather, brows knit and a frown touching his lips. The old man sighed and gave an indulgent smile.



“Ya know there’s more beyond the Lower Levels. I was king of an entire country before you were born.” Gramps teased lightly, earning a groan from the teen.

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Link stared at the rundown church a little distrustfully. The stain glass had long since been broken out. The brick walls were crumbling, with yawning holes where the blocks had actually fallen out. The roof had long since fallen in, great slabs of rock haphazardly propped inside the walls. The doors hung open, barely on their hinges.



It’d taken an hour for him to find the way below the Lower Levels. It’d involved lifting grates and slipping down, finding holes and dodging steam workers.



The thief hadn’t even known that the Levels extended as far down as they did. It didn’t even have a true name, its presence lost to everyone. The dusty, oily air was thick, but cool. Steam didn’t rise from the pipes, the old dwellings just as decrepit. No life resided here, no massive spiders or bindles.



It was something in the atmosphere that forbad one to linger in the dingy walkways so far below the normal districts. Who would put a temple in a place that was dangerous to pray?



The long-eared boy ignored it, trudging through it with dogged determination. The faster he got this job done, the better. He only wanted to go back to his flat and sleep. His mind felt fuzzy, body stiff in spite of stretching constantly as he walked, and his vision fuzzy around the edges. His reflexes, in his opinion, were sub-par.



He was sure he was ok, but knew that he’d have a nasty surprise waiting for him wherever the alter was that he needed to set the jewels.



The thief picked his way to the condemned church, climbing over the chunks of stone until he reached the pulpit. He gave it an assessing look, rubbing his eyes after a moment as they began to water.



“This is gonna take forever.” He grumbled as he inspected the back wall, fingers inspecting for the door his Gramps swore by. “If I run into a wolf…I think I’m just gonna lay down and let it get me.”



The lanky teen found the indentions of the door and he took a step back. Using a sharp, flat stone, he carved out the outline and shouldering it open. It banged against the wall, the sound echoing down the tunnel it revealed. He sighed tiredly as he stared down into the pitch.



Sometimes, I think I would rather have Gramps be wrong about some things. Link complained quietly, making his way carefully down the stairs. What kind of treasure would make it possible to stop stealing? A chest full of gold coins? Gold bricks? Jewels?



A square of light was at the bottom, giving the thief hope that there was an end to the stairs. I don’ look forward to climbing back up here. If I’m gonna be attacked, I’m betting it’ll be there.



He pulled out the flask, giving the glowing liquid a doubtful look. Unscrewing the cap, he took a quick gulp. Tears sprang to his eyes, the fluid setting his mouth aflame. He managed to swallow, feeling the burn travel down his throat, thickly coating it. Gasping, the thief replaced the cap and tucked it in his shirt. Nothing spectacular happened so he shrugged and started down once more.



He reached the landing, carefully pressing in the shadows by the frame, inspecting the circle of light on the grated floor. It looked clear and he carefully slipped through the door. He skirted along the shadows, crouching down and shuffling as quietly as possible as his back brushed against the steel wall.



There was no movement, no sounds beyond his shallow breathing. His mind seemed to have sharpened, possessing any possible danger. He didn’t feel the lethargy or headache and though his muscles were tense, it was in preparation for a battle he had come to expect.



The heavy iron door on the other side was very much locked, refusing to budge under the teen’s insistence. He tried lifting, sliding, and pressing it into submission. There was no handle to try to pull it open. He tilted his head back, lips tugged into an annoyed frown. Well, there was no getting through it. His Gramps would be angry, but he couldn’t see a lock to pick.



The thief turned with a huff, ready to give his Gramps the bad news. He paused, taken aback to see a glowing figure in the middle of the previously empty room. He stood a little over six feet tall, his plate armor almost blinding in its iridescence. The red spread eagle crest was vivid against his chest, a scarlet plume draping from the helm.



“What the hell is on his back?” Link muttered, feeling a little numb as his fingers freed the baton from his belt. The white humps unfurled, feathers fluttering away in the sudden movement. Two sets to be exact, gold inlaid along the bone structure and accenting the layers of feathers. “Ah, wings. Very nice. Impressive. I get to fight a seraph.”



The seraph turned his right hand, the sword that Link hadn’t noticed catching the light and glowing silver. The blade alone had to be forty inches. The winged knight cocked his head to the side, the light striking the visible mouth and chin, revealing a smirk.



Link returned the cocky grin without thinking. This was a human. Human, he could handle. The wings were a nice effect but might be clockwork, which wouldn’t be too much of a stretch due to the framework. His heart pounded a speedy beat, pumping adrenaline and the drugs through his veins. He felt reckless and alive, all the stressors disappearing with the thought of a fight. His life was on the line, but so was the knight’s.



“HAA!” The knight roared, dashing to close the gap between them, sword in a two-handed grip.



“YAAAAY!” Link cried in answer, rushing in low, body singing with power. He fair radiated it, blue eyes flashing in challenge.



The thief rolled under the thrust, swinging the baton up towards the crotch. The knight did a back flip, effectively dodging, and landing lightly on his feet. His wings tucked in close, lunging forward to stab Link. The teen laid the baton against his forearm, slamming it against the flat of the blade, gliding it along its length as he charged through the guard. Another swing at the knight and the taller figure twisted away, wings spread for balance.



They danced around one another, neither landing a clean hit. Link kept too close for the knight to use his reach to his advantage, the winged knight using his wings to speed every move. They were evenly matched, except that the teen was growing weary quickly as he sweated out the drug where the knight barely seemed winded.



Link bent back and braced his palms against the grating, legs obliged to follow in a wheel move; kicking up so the steel toe boot connected with the blade and effectively knocking it off course. He landed in a crouch, sweat flying from his skin as he burst forward. He rolled under a horizontal swing, stopped in a squat, right hand resting lightly against the ground for balance. The knight stabbed and Link jumped onto the blade, pinning the tip to the ground with his weight. He ran up the length, finally landing a decent hit against the side of the seraph’s head.



Unfortunately, the knight bashed the teen in the gut, dashing him from his blade like a pesky fly. The baton rattled against the grating where it fell, the teen flying from the force, hitting the ground and rolling till he smashed into the wall. He groaned, curling in a ball, left arm pressed against his stomach.



He could hear the steady clanking steps of the knight advancing towards him. He coughed, leaning his head against the grating, the cool metal soothing against his overheated skin. He pushed up slowly and looked at the nearing knight. The muscles trembled from the exertion; lungs protesting as he barely gave them enough time to give his blood oxygen. He stood up anyway, head rolling back on his neck; the glazing cobalt eyes never left the knight’s helm.



The seraph grabbed the blade in a two handed grip, dragging it along the grating; creating sparks as he began to charge forward, mouth twisted into a grimace. Link turned to face the knight, bending his knees slightly. He burst into the air as the blade neared, flipping into a whip back to land facing the knight who skidded to a halt, wings cupped to prevent him from planting his helm into the wall.



Link knocked the back of the seraph’s knees, grabbed the chilly metal work of the wings, braced his hip in against the armor and hefted him back. The knight grunted in protest, but was given no other option. He landed hard on his face, feeling the thief settle onto his back, knees between his wings. A hot, wet forearm slid under his chin until the seraph’s throat rested in the crook of the arm. The left hand grasped the right wrist, giving a deft twist and breaking the poor sod’s neck.



The satisfying crunch was music to the thief’s ears. Yet as soon as he went to move away, it burst into bits of light that caressed him as they rose to the unseen ceiling. Link panted, gooseflesh breaking out over his skin. So he hadn’t been fighting something that was real in any sense of the word. It’d been like the suits of armor and wolf.



“No point in stressing now.” He mumbled, wiping his brow. The teen closed his eyes, rubbing his sore stomach gingerly. “Spilled rum and all that.”



The blue-eyed gaze slid to his crushed baton, sighing heavily. Link went through a good amount of trouble to steal that baton from the Provost Guard. “Ah, well…” he breathed.



He glanced towards the iron door, dubious to see it no longer in place. He threw a glance back towards the stairs, confirming that route was still open if he chose to take it. Content to see it was, he headed towards the larger gape, his muscles twitching and burning.



The blue-eyed teen walked into the cavern, a little shocked the expansive space existed below the Lower Levels. Dim light pierced the gloom from a hole at the end, where a statue was settled behind a white pedestal. The scant glow that streamed from above was abysmal, only giving an impression of a plank walk extended over empty space. Water plinked, echoing mournfully as it broke the silence.



“Where in damnation is the light coming from?” Link grumbled as he rotated his shoulders nervously to loosen the tension; sweat breaking out anew, the ambience giving birth to the feeling of being transferred to another world. What would happen if the boards wouldn’t support his weight? They looked old.



The teen stepped carefully onto the plank, increasing his weight slowly and waiting for a sign of weakness. It held and he moved onto the next, repeating the process. The pedestal had an artificial shimmer in the darkness, holding the blue-eyed teen’s gaze. The air was too thick, filling his lungs and clouding his mind as his body moved forward automatically.



Step.



He walked past an alter with three jewels floating above their dips in the white stone, footsteps reverberating off the hard cold walls. Golden light created an almost tangible shaft, enveloping a sword and stuck in a white marble. He walked towards it, his steps unusually small. He wrapped both hands around the sword, but wasn’t tall enough and had to step onto the slab on either side of the blade.



Step.



His hand wrapped around the hilt, mist clinging and roiling around his figure, too thick for the noises of the forest to penetrate. The feeling of watching eyes from nearby making his skin prickle as he began to drag the blade from the holder.



Step.



The delicate song of metal gliding against marble, the world around him grays and strangely still. The silver blade slipped free and color erupted everywhere, time beginning its march once more. He pressed the blade against his forehead before raising it high.



Step.



He stood in a world of twilight, the moans of its inhabitants almost musical as he held the blade forth to soak up gold light, giving it a radiant shine that would drive back the most persistent of shadows.



Stop.



Link stared up at the sapphire statue, not remembering past the first step. A strange sense of deja vu overwhelmed him. He could vaguely see a true person beneath the features etched along the surface, his body trembling in the strange rush. The dress flared about the kneeling form, torso bent slightly forward, face tilted towards the pedestal before her. He reached up to touch the face frozen in half-sleep, the eyes appearing to be just slits, mouth parted slightly, and clutching her right hand to her chest tightly. The hair was amazingly detailed, swirling about her form in delicate strands.



His fingers brushed the warm stone, curious and suddenly unsure about placing the stones in their small indentions in the pedestal.



“No!” The voice was thick with terror, but the teen couldn’t bring himself to turn away just yet. “Don’t wake her! You’ll—GAAAaaaaaaahhhh!”



Link jerked around, startled to see Gramps standing on the wooden walkway, cane in hand. His yellow eyes glowed eerily in the dim light and a shiver raced up the thief’s spine. The old man gave a crooked smile, voice mellow and deep. “He musta slipped. Put the jewels on the alter, boy.”



“Gramps! What’re ya doing here! It’s too dangerous!” The teen demanded, trying to shake off the chill that clung to him stubbornly. He wanted a distraction from the alien feelings, since he knew answers were long in coming.



“You think I can just sit back and wait? Hell, no! Now. Put the stones on the alter, Hero.” Gramps’s voice had dipped low, his shorter stance suddenly threatening. Link took a step back, bumping against the marble slab.



The gems flared heat against his chest. The teen winced and yanked them free before they burned flesh. They rose from his hands unbidden and the thief pivoted sharply, backing up warily as he watched them settle into their spaces.



“Yesss….” The old man hissed at his back, sounding at the height of ecstasy. The blue-eyed teen could on stare in dawning horror as blue light began to burn from the statue.



A strong wind swept through the cavern, almost forcing the thief to take a step closer. He raised his arms for balance, watching through streaming dark strands as the encasing stone melted, revealing pale flesh beneath it. The hair swirled in golden curtain behind her, the blue eyes fluttering open. He could almost hear her first intake of breath, color touching her cheeks.



The wind died, leaving the three in the cavern in an eerie silence. The woman looked in her mid-teens, dress of white with blue satin sash around her waist, purple gaze draping over her arms, a gold and silver insignia over her breasts. She glanced away, her lovely features dissolving into confusion as she took in her surroundings. The azure eyes fell on Link, narrowed in concentration before widening in recognition.



“@#$%! #$@#’* @#$%& (@?” She sounded confused, the tongue she spoke in completely alien to his ears. It teased his senses, soothing and fluid. It held a musical quality, antiquated in the way the words were formed. Her eyes flickered to his back, hand tightening on the one still fixed in her grasp as fear began to overwhelm the surprise. “(#*!”



“~&*'$ @#%* *^ $#@@#%^&* *&%$#@#%. &** *#$ %( &@($# (*)#$ %*@#% ( @)*&^#$'^ !*& %$##@)(* $%$(*!)(." The new, yet familiar voice startled the thief and he jerked around, flabbergasted at the sight of his Gramps gradually straightening.



Gold light flared from his left hand and Link glanced down, surprised at the warm sensation. It was similar to the liquid heat of sunlight teasing his flesh. He watched golden triangles grow into his skin, the bottom right the conductor of the caressing heat.



Astonishingly enough, he felt as if he were the center of some frightful storm brewing between the two imposing figures. They had their own triangles on their right hands, the woman had hers hidden, but the light streamed from between her fingers.



“What the HELL IS GOING ON!” Link shouted, his voice cracking as he edged into panic mode. His eyes were wide and staring, showing the whites all around the cerulean. The two only gave him a rebuking looks, as if he should be ashamed for interrupting his elders.



His pale skin crawled and his mind scrambled for explanations as the world seemed to lose all sense. A strange feeling grew in his chest and it took the thief a moment to identify it. It was quite like when he faced the armor and wolf, but mixed in with something he was familiar with from being in the job of thieving for so long. Instincts honed from years of anxiety filled nights and training rearing their head.



Consternation, woven tightly with presentiment; terror laced the edges, but he could think through the mental pressure. It was being so utterly out of his depth that frazzled him the most. He wanted to run, but his grandfather blocked the way out. For some reason, he didn’t want near the transforming man. The only way he could go was down, which was out of the question to the thief’s opinion. He wasn’t that far gone as to take his own life.



As his Gramps stepped towards her, the wrinkled dark skin lightening into a deep olive, tightening over filling muscles, hair rippling a dark red. His eyes remained hard yellow, a crazed light making them shimmer. His voice was oily and smooth, the language dripping from his tongue like warm butter.



“#$@#$(@#$%U(@#$%@(#$%*(#$%*@#($%!” The woman snapped, face twisting into rage as her quick mind processed what was and wasn’t said. Link watched her for clues, but could only see her dismay and frustration. “@((%*)@)*$^*%!”



“$)#%$)%(^()@*^(@#$%@*&@(^&(@$%@ #$%&@*#($%&@%$@%&*@(#$%*#($*(%(*@#@)($?” He reached out and grabbed the befuddled teen by the arm, raising it and shaking it as if to prove a point.



Link knew he should do something, but wasn’t sure what. Gramps hadn’t actually made any threatening moves towards him. He was just getting younger. Should he fight? Should he try to shake free of the grip? It was too easy to fumble over the side of the platform. Was this the treasure he spoke of; something that would allow him to live in forever youth? What was the woman for then?



“%$$^*($@#@$&()(*^$@!#^*)*^%$##$^&*(*&^%$$%^&*(*^$##%^&*(^!” The man stared up at the woman, yellow teeth bared in an angry grin. “@#@#%#$%@#$%Hrncir@#$@#$%@#%@#$@#$.” He glanced down at the thief still in his grip, which looked up at him with increasing annoyance. The teen was even beginning to fight him, jerking away roughly and readying a fist to strike him.



“Sorry, Hero. I’ll need that Triforce of Courage. Be a good lad and give it up?” Gramps give a winning smile, jerked the teen off his feet and tossing him easily off the edge. Link grasped wildly at the air, his eyes darting from his Grandfather’s to the woman on the alter. She leaned forward, as if to grab his hand, the triangle glowing brightly on her hand.



“@*#@!”



He would have screamed, but he couldn’t even manage to squeeze air from his throat. How far he fell, he couldn’t fathom. Light was a distant dream, not existing in the balmy depths. He clung to the sound of the woman’s voice to distract him from the rushing wind, memories flashing madly through his mind but the crushing force of the water knocked him into oblivion.

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A/N – A little late, but still here. If anyone is curious, Link had a Class III Hemorrhage. He should have been resting for far longer then a week. If you have any questions, e-mail me. Because it’s not letting Bob copy and change the font…



“Link? What’s going on?” “You!”



“Don’t look so surprised, Princess. You had to have known that I wouldn’t let sleeping dodongos lie.”



“You just can’t leave well enough alone, could you!” “I broke the chain for a reason!”



“It didn’t coincide well with my plans. I will have access to the Golden Land; make no mistake, Princess. You know how hard it was to keep the little brat alive long enough to achieve this?”





“How many times I had to go through this crap with him? He always died before I was finished with him! Some earthquake, a mine would collapse or he’d fall off a damn walkway. I would almost swear that little brat was doing it on purpose!” “I’ll be ending the cycle my way, Princess. Of course, that means that my dear ‘grandson’ has outlived his usefulness. Can’t let the boy get any stronger. He’ll just make a nuisance of himself.”



“Link!”



Ulforce Diizoid - Thank you for reviewing again! Even if I did beg fore it in a way…I appreciate it more then you know.



I would just like to remind you that Link is 14 and a bit brasher and colder then he normally would be. The blood loss also contributed to his poor escape. His mental state was very degraded.



Link was also trained to be a thief, not a warrior. He was conditioned to think through mental stress, but not physical pain.



Now you know why he reminded you of Ganondorf so much…he was raised by him. ^-^



Musk is harder to rid yourself of than you’d think. Water rinses it enough to where humans have trouble detecting it, but nothing less than soap will clear the oil that clings to clothing and flesh. That and Link’s smell is covering the wolf. I’d like to think my hounds are smart enough not to track a teen who’d punch a wolf in the throat.



Narein and Viscen are classified as of now. You’ll just have to wait and see. ^-^



I uh…should have made the Omake clearer, but I was in a hurry to get it up. No, he never threw the Sapphire.



Actually…I’m trying to spread them out, but as you can see…I’ve played the OoT (countless times) and Twilight Princess (four times) the most. I’m gonna play Wind Waker over again and I’m in the middle of Phantom Hourglass. I think the only Zeldas I haven’t played are Oracle and Seasons.