February | 2003 | Ancient_Scribe's Xanga Site

So sore. . . I spent 4-5 hours yesterday with my family sledding at a former ski hill called Happy Jacks. I found the perfect sled and I was literally flying down the hillside. I am very very sore this morning, especially on my chest. Why do I have to have so much muscle there? Anyways, yeah, if you give me any hugs this morning be gentle or I might cry out in agony. What else. . . Saturday I went to Boulder, Colorado with some friends and hit the shops along Pearl Street. I bought meself a couple new books and a pirate flag It is so neat, I have it hanging in my dorm window now so everyone who looks way way up to the 12th floor can see it too. *sigh* a whole friggin’ hour to go until my next class. What to do what to do. . . I wish I was home right now. I could go see Joyskee and Jiller at the grocery store then. Heck I could see everybody if everybody wasn’t busy. That’d be so neat.

Valentine’s Day is Friday. Yipee. I’ve never really enjoyed Valentine’s Day ever since we stopped exchanging valentines and candy in elementary school. Then I stopped getting stuff. I think the only time I ever gave anyone anything for v-day was my junior year when I got a rose for my best friend who hated valentine’s day because she never got anything. That made her happy. She didn’t expect it at all. I think she has that dried rose hanging in her room still. . . I can’t remember. Oh well. Not like my brain is being very cooperative right now. hehe. Supertroopers is a funny movie if any of you has yet to see it. There were some parts I didn’t like but that is old-fashioned Jake for you. all in all though, pretty funny stuff. Have a wonderful day all my precious friends!

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: SHARDS OF TIME

By: Jake Boddicker

CHAPTER ONE: MEMORIES

If the gods in their infinite wisdom had ever created green gold, then surely they had hammered it into gold-leaf and placed it upon the trees of the Kokiri Forest. The leaves upon the many tall and regal trees of the wood seemed to glimmer with an innate light of their own, and it refracted the sunlight in a way that seemed to add an intangible but appreciated warmth to the gentle rays. It was always like this in the forest, save those days when it would rain gently for an entire day, the thunder rumbling far off like distant cannons sounding the advance of a cloudy regiment flying their gray standards through the skies.

No matter the weather, the trees whispered to one another and to anyone with the capacity to hear them, though only those who dwelled in the forest knew what the trees spoke of. Though travelers often passed by the Lost Woods, the thick and mysterious wood surrounding the sanctuary of the Kokiri Forest, only the very brave or the very foolish traveler dared enter it. Very few people indeed knew how to traverse the Lost Woods, and anyone else that passed through it either had no idea where they were or knew exactly where they were, and those people knew only that they were terribly lost.

Link, however, happened to be both a dweller of the Kokiri Forest and one of those gifted few who knew the Lost Forest as well as his small cabin on the outskirts of the Kokiri Village. He lived alone in an almost total sense of the word. Not only was his cabin empty of life as soon as he walked out the door, but he also was the only member of his species in the entire area. He was not one of the native Kokiri; small Elf-like beings of short height, quick minds and bodies, and a child-like innocence and appearance that often times fooled the occasional passerby into thinking them simple minded and easily persuaded to sell out the secret of the Lost Woods. Much to the traveler’s dismay the Kokiri are easily insulted by this ignorance and often lead the traveler in circles until they are more lost than they had been in the beginning, much to the amusement of their Kokiri “guide.” Link was raised by these people, though he was Hylian, a noble near-human race from the kingdom of Hyrule, far outside the forest across the great Hyrule Field. He too sported pointed ears and slanted eyebrows, but he was almost three times as tall as all of his Kokiri friends and much younger, only in his late twenties. Most of his friends were at least in their late hundreds or early two-hundreds. His oldest friend was ancient and refused to reveal her age to him. That would be Saria. He remembered her well, though the last time he had seen her was. . . gosh, ages ago it seemed. He was a teen then, a young and vibrant man. Then he recalled something unique of himself he sometimes forgot about: he had been a teenager twice, or so he thought. He often questioned himself and his logic but that is what he felt, as if he was twice as old as his body and birthday cakes told him.

Those familiar with the story of Link will remember his valiant struggle against the evil Ganondorf, and how he was locked away in the Sacred Realm until he was ready to bear the Master Sword against the Evil Lord and defeat him, aiding the Six Sages in sealing him off in the Evil Realm for all eternity, to never be seen again. After the battle, a beautiful woman had taken him back to his childhood so he could grow up a happy child, and later a happy man with pleasant memories of his past instead of memories of fighting evil monsters and the like. He had no memory up until that meeting with the woman in the clouds, then his memory told him that he was a child growing up in the forest. Some of the Kokiri called him the slayer of some evil king, but he did not slay any king! Did he? Soon after this Link had departed on a journey of self discovery when he was still a child, and ended up in Termina, forced to save that land from destruction and the evil whims of Majora’s Mask. He had defeated the demon that possessed that mask, and returned to his home among the Kokiri people, firmly believing that this is where he belonged. And so he had remained ever in the forest until now.

He was now fully grown, a tall handsome young man with a short beard, long honey-colored hair and light green eyes. His skin was tanned from being outside, wither hunting or chopping wood, or riding his faithful horse Epona. Sometimes he would ride out to the ruins of the Forest Temple and play a tune upon a small green Ocarina Saria had given to him as a gift. Every time he did so, he remembered that he had once owned a blue one, a magical one, but he had returned it to the Skull Child, who had found it outside Hyrule Castle. For some reason Link felt that he had possessed that ocarina before, in another life and that same beautiful woman from his past had given it to him, but he could never recall her name. In fact the only things he could recall about her was a head of long hair, seemingly born of sunlight, as if the sun was a flower that dropped seeds for a mother to gather and later sow into the scalp of her daughter. Then those seeds would grow and so become strands of that great star to please the eye and warm the hearts of man and beast, and for the wind to jealously tug and molest as it passed by. He remembered. . . eyes. Yes, eyes that seemed to constantly plead, as if they were meant to dwell in a person of happiness, a carefree little girl rolling about in soft grass and tall fragrant flowers bedecked with buzzy bees and butterflies that seemed to tiptoe upon the air rather than to beat against it like a bird. Those eyes. . . he remembers looking into them for a long period of time, and they looked back into his, straight into the back of his mind, so dark and mournful and wonderful and for an instant he remembers the strange impulses that coursed through him as he stood there, surfacing for the first time in ages now that all the fighting and the killing had ended. Link remembered. . . he wanted to kiss her. It wasn’t what he would call love, but not lust either more of a boyish curiosity really, it seemed the natural thing to do. . . well, isn’t it though? Isn’t the hero to kiss the maiden he rescues? Then he remembered an awkward embarrassment, and then a strange stomach-wrenching fear. What if she wants me to kiss her? What if she thinks I love her? What if I kiss her and she doesn’t like me? These were among the childish things that went though his mind, and now that he was a full-grown man, he knew better. Though he wouldn’t say that he had deciphered the complexities of love, Link now knew that love wasn’t an impulse to kiss a pretty pair of lips. So what did he do all those years ago? He stood quiet, breathing heavily out of nervousness and exhaustion, for this was soon after the defeat of the greatest enemy the lands have ever seen and it was no easy task to perform. So, standing there quietly, though his heart and mind were screaming, she too stood quiet, her eyes pleading for something, he knew not what, and then she closed her eyes, brought the mystical Ocarina to her lips, and played a magical song that took Link back to his childhood, leaving him with very few memories of his adventures.

Link leaned upon the wooden fence behind his cabin, pondering all this as he often did, trying to recall more memory of this mysterious and beautiful breeze of a memory. Epona nudged Link’s elbow with her soft warm nose and he grinned, mussing up the horse’s mane with a calloused hand.

“You silly horse, you take good care of me, too good. You know that?”

Epona grunted slightly, her equivalent of a modest “Yes, absolutely. You thought otherwise?”

Link continued to smile and decided that with nothing better to do he might as well comb all of the various seed pods and buggle-burs out of Epona’s coat and tail. He went into the small tack shed and came out with a comb and a pair of scissors. He began the meticulous task of carefully removing all the entangled plant matter caught in the fine hair, and was almost finished when he heard a knock at his front door. Epona grunted again and pawed at the ground while Link walked to the front of the cabin to see who it was that required his attention.

“May I help you?” Link said politely, his great hands resting upon his hips.

“Oh, Mr. Link sir! An honor to meet you sir!” an eager Kokiri exclaimed, waddling up to Link and offering a hand. Link knelt down to shake it kindly and remained squatting before the pint-sized messenger.

“Mr. Link sir! I have a letter for you sir! A message from the Great Deku Tree he, he wants to speak to you sir!”

“What about, do you know perchance?”

“No sir, Mr. Link sir, but I ‘spect it to be of some importance sir!”

“Well thank you, Master. . .”

“Slint sir!” the eager bearer of tidings proudly announced, “My name is Slint, and I surely ain’t no. . .”

“Thank you, Master Slint,” Link said with a curt nod of his head, “I bid you good day and thank you again.”

“Gee thanks Mr. Link! Thanks a lot!”

Slint quickly trotted off down the trail back to the village, waving down a passing friend and telling his acquaintance all about his important business with the hero of the Kokiri, the Slayer of the Evil King! It made Link smile and his heart chuckled softly, remembering the days when monsters were only as real as you made them to be, but you were always stronger though your sword was made of wood and the monster never really roared and spewed flames and hurt people. He knew better now, but why let it spoil this gorgeous day? Link decided that he would ride into the village and have a chat with the Great Deku Tree, and perhaps even share a drink with the old man. Yes, that is exactly. . .

He paused. His hair-trigger sense, that feeling that he was being observed began to tingle upon the nape of his neck, and slowly he gripped the thin dagger he kept on his belt. A lithe robed figure darted between trees not far off, causing dead leaves to rustle slightly, otherwise he, she, or it made not a single sound. Link’s heart was between his ears.

The robed figure vanished in a bush, and Link guessed as to what tree the being would rush off to next. He had guessed correctly and hurled the dagger as the person in question darted to that very tree. The blade flew straight and true. . . pinning the left sleeve of the robe to the trunk of the tree. The shriek emitted by the intruder revealed it’s identity. . . it was a she.

Link approached the struggling person and pinned her small frame against the tree with two monstrous hands. He could not see her face, but judging by the lack of struggle and other body language he removed his hands and stepped back. She stood with her hands raised, a sign of peaceful intentions and lack of weaponry, and he took the opportunity to study her more closely.

Beneath her royal blue cloak she wore a tight-fitting garment commonly donned by messengers or warriors who prefer fighting with their body instead of a weapon. It was black with royal blue designs accenting certain physical features, fine features if Link was any judge though his experience with the fairer race was extremely. . . limited. He noticed that she was quite muscular, but not in the chunky almost rocky way that he was but more svelte, more like a deer; a graceful and enduring strength meant more for sustaining quickness rather than crushing skulls. That way she stood, a straight up and rigid pose implying either royal blood or royal duties. She was not intimidated by him in the slightest. Link didn’t blame her. He knew he was strong, and he was fairly quick, but she could dance circles around him. It would be like a bear trying to catch a mouse with his bare hands.

“Master Link, I presume? Yes?”

Link was somewhat stunned not only by the pleasant, rich voice, accented with a lovely touch of sophistication but also by the stern way she presented the words, almost like every question was a command.

“Yes, I am he. Who are you?”

She nodded her head curtly, “I am the personal messenger of Milady, the Princess of Hyrule. She requests your presence at the palace, and upon your arrival at the castle you are to speak with her immediately. Is this clear?”

Link thought for a moment. It must be very important indeed if such a brief and straightforward message had to be delivered in person by a top messenger of the Princess Herself! He felt a surge of excitement soar through his veins.

“I understand. I shall depart tomorrow morning at the rising of the sun.”

“Very well Master Link. Do you require escort?”

“No, I will be very well on my own, I assure you.”

He could tell she was smiling. Slightly. She didn’t really have a sense of humor, or so he thought anyway.

“As you wish but heed my words: there are agents of evil about. Though few, they are about and I would be watchful if I were you.”

He thanked her, yanked the dagger out of the tree, and she was gone. Then Link felt like a bloody fool for not having the messenger reveal herself. She reminded him of someone. . . though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. . . yes, now he remembered! The masked person, with the harp, who taught him magical songs he had long forgotten. He remembered the red eye of the person’s sect, the ancient Sheik. Was this messenger of the same warrior sect, sent to recruit his help once again? Or was it something different? Or was it a little of both? The only way to find out, Link decided, was to go there.

But first, he had a drink to share with a tree.

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Month: February 2003

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