LOZ:Ocarina of Time:Prelude

I listen, I watch, I wait,
I am soaring reincarnate.
With ears and eyes alight,
I observe a world’s plight.

In the world a fire rises,
Upon winds and ghastly pyres.
Yet hindered by walls of palace,
I must rest in secret solace.

Sinking sun and rising moon,
And into a desert gloom.
My soul shall fly and pray,
For all to see light of a new day.

In castle dark,
A knight shall bear mark.
On horizon night,
A maid shall make flight.

Listen to the story told,
Through ages of myth grey and old.
Bear witness and an ear lend,
And beginning shall replace this end.


PRELUDE:  Of Dreams and Prayers


“I have dreamt of the skies again,” she said with a smile.  “I often dream of a place where the deepest blue oceans gleam and the rivers run clear.  There are palaces there of shining marble and a gold that glistens in the sun.”  She breathed deeply, and a flutter caught in her voice.  A tear, having welled in her eye as she spoke, danced on the edge of her lashes.  She forced a fresh smile and raised her heavy eyes to the grey clouds massing outside her great balcony.  “In my dreams there is a deep green meadow full of life and sunlight.  It is there I can laugh and feel the kiss of the wind.  It is there I am happy.”

She held onto her smile, fighting the quiver gushing through her bottom lip.  Gazing down, she caressed the blue velvet covering her abdomen with gentle fingers.

“That is the world, young one, I wish you to know.”  She closed her eyes and her tears fell, and thus was the pain of wishing against a truth most certain to be filled of darkness.

She sucked in a sniffle and found her strength anew.  “There is a myth that the gods have a purpose for each of us.  I must believe that there is purpose for this, too … that we can overcome this shadow and reach again toward that distant light, that most bright and kind sunlight.”  

The grey clouds over the valleys of the west had bridged into the plains.  Their color had deepened, and now their shades blotted the grassy hills like a nightmare.  Each cloud had become the bud of a thousand thundering needles of gritty rain, coursing across the land and pelting the stone of her balcony like a sickness.

She held a hand out to the rain, cupped her fingers, and let the drops collect there.  “There is a story in every raindrop … every tear.  Your story begins with these.”  She let her tears fall, let them smear her visage.  “Rain can bring illness and destruction, but it can also wash away the dirt and tend a thirsty field.”

At last, she took a step out into the rain, held her head high, and closed her eyes.  The water tumbled through her golden tresses and her ashen face seemed to glow.  She breathed in, let the cold rush consume her.  Her smile returned.  “When you cry, my child, do not fear it, but remember, without tears … there is nothing to wash away the pain.”

She gently clapped a hand under her rotund belly and stroked her form with the other.  She looked down as if to stare into the eyes of her unborn child.  “My heart tells me you have been the missing piece in my life, my link to a happy life under the sun of my dreams.  And so you shall be my dearest Link, the link from my time to yours … and on into the next.”

Turning her gaze upward, she looked out into the raining night and struggled to see past the shadows.  “Have faith, my son.  And above all, when it seems like there is no star left in the heavens” --she looked up into the blanket of black velvet-- “have courage.”  

A neigh pierced the veil of shadow, she thought, and she cast her gaze across the rolling hills to the southwest.  Even in the thick, brooding storm, she could spy the lone rider atop that farthest hill.

“Have courage like your father.”

===  ===  ===

The earth vibrated and the air boomed when the drawbridge struck the ground.  Hooves rattled across the wood in a hurry, the clomps echoing like drumbeats against the surface of the distant moat below.  Upon the great brown stallion sat the Captain of the Knights of Hyrule, a deeply respected man among all in the kingdom.  His silver armor had grown dull from days of travel, and the deep red of his voluminous cape curtained him like the stain of a prophecy yet fulfilled.

He turned through the cobblestone streets of the inner city market at a canter, weaving through a diminishing crowd on their way to sup with their families.  The savory scents of broiling meat and baking bread filled his senses, and he realized how hungry he had become.  But supper was not in his near future.  Shamefully, he would have to interrupt the king’s meal with the urgent news he carried, and he could only pray that arriving now allowed time to act.  There was no way he could have come sooner.

“Unhand me!” came a man’s wail.  As the captain turned left at an intersection, he saw a handful of knights and civilians caught in an ugly altercation.  The spirit in the townsfolk only doubled with the approach of the captain, shouting curses and urging action.  By the time he came to a halt at the scene, the two citizens who had struck out at the knights had been detained.

One knight, the youngest of the group at three and twenty, saluted the captain as he held fast to the manacles he had at last affixed to the giant of a man in his and another knight’s grasp.  “Captain!”

The captain nodded and looked to the leader of the unit, who immediately spoke.  “Nothing serious, Sir; just another couple scoundrels threatening riots.”

But, of course, this was a serious matter.  A frown tugged the corner of the captain’s chin.

“We were about to take these men to the castle,” the young knight said.  “If you were needing an escort, Captain--”

“No.”  His deep voice contrasted his kind eyes and contoured cheekbones.  “If we were to lock up every man in Hyrule that spoke his mind, we would have no room left for the real villains.”

The young knight quieted, embarrassed, but his commanding officer stepped in.  “Sir, these men--”

“Are to remain in their homes under house arrest and under your watch,” said the captain; he readjusted himself in his saddle and shifted the reins.  “Pass on the order to the rest of the men to be on alert this night.”

The officer stood straighter, gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword tightly.  “Are we expecting an attack?”

“Nothing is certain.  Send the word,” he said in haste, and he then turned an eye on the citizens, a mob filled of innocent onlookers and mischief-makers alike.  “Return to your homes!  The night is no place to be in this storm.”

Though the rain had stopped only hours before, the skies still laughed with the promise of more, flickering now and again to remind the inhabitants below of its strengthening malice.  Slowly, the people began to disperse, for even though some loathed the choices of their king, they held little outward contempt for the king’s military servant.  Yet, while some failed to act out of fear … others still were merely biding their time for an opportune moment.

The captain returned a farewell salute to his men and sent his horse into a renewed canter, whipping past them to make his way right with the bending road.

The town steadily slipped by, and after the guard at the first gate let him pass, he hit the dirt paths of the gardens surrounding the great castle at a gallop.  He flashed through the paths at such a speed that a cloud of dust stirred into the air and alerted the guards at the castle doors to danger.  Upon realizing the identity of the soldier, they scurried to open the doors.

The captain passed through the last stone archway of the garden and slipped from his saddle even before it came to a sudden halt at the base of the stairs, which led up and over another moat, this one far smaller than that of the exterior border.  A squire rushed to his horse, and he marched up the stairs without losing pace, his armor jingling with every quick, rattling footfall.  He passed the guards with a nod and continued on into the depths of the castle.  A thunderous, creaking boom signaled the closing of its enormous maws.

===  ===  ===

She sat quietly in the great dinning hall of the king.  She sipped a cup of hot tea sweetened with lemon and honey as the other women joined the men in merriment under the toasts of mead.  Sitting there, near the king’s immediate left, her gazed drifted across the colorful table.  Draped under a false smile, she watched as the young princess spooned cherries into her mouth.  At three years old, the spirited child had become known for her curiosity and love of laughter, and there were moments she had seen, magical moments, wherein the young Princess Zelda seemed to radiate a strange sense of understanding uncommon even among the finest of noble ladies and gentlemen.

Princess Zelda … named after her late mother.  The queen had been kind to each of her retainers and to every common peasant who had had the honor of meeting her.  Her kind blue eyes and golden hair were reflected in her daughter’s appearance, and she had heard the king say once--in a rare moment of public sadness--how his daughter’s smile mirrored the warmth of the smile his wife used to offer him every evening.

She wondered if it had indeed been three years since the passing of her great friend, the queen, for unlike most in the castle, she had the uncommon blessing of calling herself a true friend of the former Zelda.  Since then she had been overcome by a silent grief that clouded her every smile, and spending time with her friend’s child only seemed to worsen her bereavement as much as it helped to heal her wounds.  It was the same with her pregnancy; she feared it as much as she longed for it.  She longed for a child to call her own, a being born from parts of her husband and herself, something living that would truly link them together as a family.  Yet, she could not cast off the lingering omens that iced her heart.  In her dreams she could live in bliss.  She longed for that forest, for that sacred meadow, verdant and bright.  That was the world she wished to give her son; not the world where every morning and night greeted threats of being forced into the war of their brother and sister nations.

She needed so desperately to know her husband was safe.  She thought she had seen his image earlier that evening on the far hills of Hyrule Field, but as the hours had brushed past, she had become more and more convinced that it had merely been the storm playing cruel tricks in the rain.

“My King!” burst a sudden voice she recognized as one of the king’s guards.  Sir Everard, a brave man in his fourth decade, was garnished in the deep blues of the Kingsguard, contrasting with the blood red embellishments of the Knights of Hyrule.  He was more a protector than a soldier, always staying rather than leading a charge, which was why she knew him so well.  Being a nursemaid to the princess, she crossed paths with Sir Everard every day and spoke with him more frequently than she could her own husband.

Everyone had come to an immediate silence when Sir Everard entered.  “Captain Byford has returned with news!”

Just as his name had been announced, his red cape flashed like a beacon in the dark behind his jangling armor and drew the attention of every eye.  Upon entering, he knelt quickly out of respect and rose again just as swiftly due to urgency.  He centered his gaze upon his king.  “Your Grace, I come with urgent news.  We must speak.”

Apprehension fermented the thickening silence, and only the giggle of the young princess dared to pierce the pall.  As the king stood, Captain Byford flicked his gaze to another, his wife, who had waited long to see him return from the outlying lands, a woman carrying his first son.  Though she could not smile, her eyes spoke more than words, more than happiness.  He gave her a quick nod, one that said everything from “I love you” ; “I’ve missed you” ; and “I’m sorry” all at once.

With the king and his guard, he departed, leaving his beautiful wife, the Lady Myriam, to the murmurs that followed in the wake of their fading footsteps.

===  ===  ===

King Nohansen paced the stone of his throne room with determined accuracy.  He had long ruled over the fair kingdom of Hyrule, a kingdom that had seen its share of bloodshed and fire.  He had been handed the honor of ruling when his father-in-law had passed ten years before, and even in his third decade, he still felt inadequate under the weight of his burdens.  With the death of his wife only three years prior, he still grieved her absence and felt that he had stolen her father’s crown.  He had sworn at her gravestone that he would never throw her and her father’s great kingdom into war.

“Your Grace, this news is dire.  We must act,” one of his attendants was saying.  “For the sake of your people, I beg you to reconsider our neutral stance.”

Nohansen stopped and pressed a hand against one of the ornately carved pillars.  He studied the fine work as his mind sauntered down roads of memory.  He had grown up playing in these halls, always the favorite of the late king and betrothed at an early age to his mentor’s beautiful daughter.  The white marble had yet to see war in his lifetime, and he begged the gods each night for such fortune to continue.

“The Neutrality Act states--” he began.

The attendant, his High Advisor, cut him short.  He was the only soul who ever dared to interrupt the King of Hyrule.  “If the war between the Zoras and Gorons continues like this, then that decree will no longer take precedence.”

“The Gorons have already attacked the outlying village of Lon Lon,” the general of the Knights reported.  “Just a few days ago, we took in refugees.”

Captain Byford interjected.  “That report is not accurate.”

The general glared down at him, both insulted and curious.  Nohansen looked to Byford, his oldest friend and ally.  His eyes pleaded for proof that the war did not threaten his people.  “Go ahead, Captain.”

Any other man, standing beneath the great king, accompanied by attendants, advisors, and the proud Sheikah warriors, would have bit his tongue from fear of dismissal or retribution, but Byford had long ago proven his fealty and his courage to the kingdom; none loyal to the king would dare misjudge him.

“I spoke with Master Talon on my way back from the East,” he began.  “The raid that took place in Lon Lon had not been brought about solely by the Gorons.”

“If not they, then--?” the High Advisor started.

“He said there were women, fierce and skilled with a blade, women who hid their faces,” he said, and the hush that overtook the room was like the calm in the eye of a storm, tense and ready for explosion.  “It was these warrior women who raided Lon Lon, burnt the farms, the ranch, and stole all but a handful of the Horsemaster’s livestock.”  Byford paused a moment, trying to remember the exact words.  “Talon said the Gorons had only meant to stir their fear.  When they refused to burn houses … a sorceress” --he swallowed; the pain he had felt in seeing what had been left stabbed at his eyes-- “began incinerating them.”

The uneasy quiet deepened at the mention of sorcery.

“Then the rumors are true…” Sir Everard finally breathed.  “The Gerudo are behind the attacks, behind the war.  The Gorons were nothing but puppets!”

“There is no proof of that,” said the general at once, his voice echoing against the cold stone like the threatening sneer of a red moon.

Captain Byford returned his gaze, but with valor in place of malice.  “I have seen the proof.  The Gerudo and their sorceress have invaded our lands and brought war upon those who were once our allies.”

“You speak like the those who seek rebellion,” scoffed the general.  “Do you wish us to go to war?  To go against your king’s wishes?  To have the blood of innocent men, women, and children decorate the streets of our lands?”

“I wish to defend my country and my family,” Byford spat in return, and his gaze landed on King Nohansen.  “And my king.”  He took a step forward, pleading for the others to understand the gravity of what had come.  “Hyrule has never interfered in the wars of other lands except to act as a liaison for peace.  The Gerudo have changed that.  They are responsible for this war and the attack at Lon Lon Village.  It is our duty to respond.  It is our duty to ally with the Gorons and Zoras to fight a common enemy.”  He looked to King Nohansen, his childhood friend, the man whose child was to wed his firstborn to seal their bond of brotherhood.  He saw the light of courage dawn in his king’s eyes as he spoke, a will to answer the call of destiny without fear or reluctance.  “The Gerudo brought dissention to this kingdom; they have sent our world into chaos so that we might fight amongst ourselves and leave what’s left to their thieving hands.”  Byford cast his gaze across his brothers in arms, to the honorable Sheikah, before settling his bold blue eyes back to Nohansen.  “But on this day, on this day, My King, we can choose to negotiate a truce with the Gorons and Zoras and cast out such demons forever.”

At his words, the king’s council of advisors immediately drew together in debate.  The Sheikah warriors, protectors of the Royal Family, stood by as they always had, silent and prepared to act on any order.  The Knights held stance along the pillars, awaiting word from their general.  Some sent pensive looks toward Byford, a man they all respected.  None would challenge him, and all would die for him, but the thought of an impending conflict birthed a dangerous darkness in their hearts.  

The darkness of fear.

King Nohansen leaned back into his great seat, resting his weary body as his mind tumbled this way and that.  For ten years he had kept the peace, for ten years, Hyrule had been prosperous under his rule.  During his time, the people had built villages farther out from the castle than they had ever dared in ages before.  There were settlements as far south as Lake Hylia, and those of Lon Lon were as close to the Forbidden Forest as any Hylian had dared live.  Their economy had flourished, and though commerce had never been easy with the Gorons or Zoras, Nohansen had made trade worth the while … before the war.

He pressed a hand against his face, and his fingers braided through his beard as he thought.  The muttering of his advisors sounded like insects as he looked again upon the man, who in fifteen years’ time, he could call a true brother.

High above, on an overlooking terrace, Lady Myriam stood, having listened to the debate in silent fright.  She had met Master Talon years ago when Lon Lon had first been established, and only a year ago, she had tended to the birth of his daughter Malon.  Malon’s mother, too, had died from childbirth; though, unlike the queen, she had passed from an illness she had contracted after the birth.

Hyrule had once been a place Myriam longed to raise a child, but the omens continued to line up.  Every day the sun grew darker.  Every day the wind howled louder.  Every day the stars seemed to grow dimmer.  In such turmoil, she wondered if the gods were preparing her for an even darker fate than that of her late friends.  She held fast to her belly as she turned away; she could not bear to hear the king’s answer, could not bear to have the knowledge that they might go to war … or perhaps even worse … that they might stand by and do nothing while Hyrule and its weary allies fell into fire at the hands of a sorceress.

She cried as her soft shoes took her through the corridors, and the carvings in the halls looked down on her as if they bore the condemning eyes of the gods.  The gods had taken Queen Zelda and Cremia from their daughters, and she prayed that they would not take her from her Link.

Myriam burst through the doors of the sanctuary nestled in the heart of the central courtyard.  At the back wall, there rose a grand sculpture.  The three golden goddesses of their ancient religion had been carved into white marble, and they stood like faceless giantesses.  Though none bore any difference of features to the other, all knew the intended identity of each.  At the center was the powerful Din; to the right was the beautiful Farore, and on the left stood the gracious Nayru.  Between them stood a pedestal holding the great crest of the royal house, an eagle bearing the weight of a great triangle above its beak and splayed wings.

Beautiful red chrysanthemums and roses dotted the area nearest Din, and blue lilies peppered the grass under Nayru’s image.  Strong, green hellebore flowers blessed the grass surrounding Farore, and it was to this goddess, either on some whim or design of fate, that Myriam lost her step and fell.  She pushed herself up to kneel, cradling her belly.  Tears full of pleading fell from her crystal sapphire eyes as she gazed upward upon the stone deity … and she prayed.

“Please, Goddess Farore, let my child be blessed with a healthy life.  Let him know a mother’s touch.  Let him laugh in a land free of war.  Let him grow into a strong man, but, please, let him first be a boy free from the horror of death.”  She sniffled her breath and heaved in a wail.  “Let my Link know happiness in the wilderness of your great kingdom.”  Her tears splashed against the petals of the hellebore blooms surrounding her.  “One mother to another … let me watch over him, Great Goddess.  Let my Link live free.”