LOZ:Twilight Princess:Ch.16 FINAL

----Chapter 16: The Fifth Ordonian


After Link had returned to Gor Coron, he spent an hour receiving the Gorons’ thanks and requests to tell of his journey within their mines.  Though he was battered and fatigued, Link recounted the events, leaving out only certain details … such as what had happened to their sacred treasure.  In Link’s silence at the question of whether it had been left intact, the Gorons read his expression falsely, believing that his reluctance to reply was due to his shame in its destruction.  Link let them believe so, for it was in their best interests that they not know he was collecting the ancient treasures....

By the time Link managed to politely pry himself from the Gorons’ presence, he was ready to collapse, but he refused to allow the exhaustion to best him; he thought it would insult the Goron tribe.

As Gor Coron and several others dove into the mines to retrieve Darbus, Link stepped outside.

Evening had dawned, spectral colors skipping through the skies above.  With a grunt Link sat on the ledge, recharging strength for his upcoming descent.  Why can’t they escort me back down? he chuckled to himself.  With a wearied suspiration, he looked across the rocky range.  He had not appreciated the beauty of the mountains until now … when all was settled, calm.  The threat was over and it was then that Link saw the reflection of sky rippling peacefully against every peak and mountainside.

But there is one last Fused Shadow to be found, he reminded himself at length.

It was time to move on.

Link hummed as he gathered himself up.  He took one last look at the mountains below.  They were so radiant, and yet it brought a frown to his lips.  There were so many provinces to which he had never ventured, and now, even in saving this mountain country from darkness, he could not even spare the time to explore its great wonder.  

I suppose it’ll be like this everywhere I go, he mused.

He spun on his heel to leave.  “But I’ll come back to see a sunset like this again … when it’s all over....”

===============

Night reigned when Link had finally escaped the mountains to enter Kakariko Village once again.  His limbs shook with pain and his shoulder injury had worsened.  The sight of the familiar village brought a smile to his face.

Dangling her feet over the porch of the inn, Luda held out apple bits to Epona, who nibbled up each in turn.  Once Luda caught sight of Link, she leapt down to welcome him back; however, she frowned upon seeing his battered face and singed clothing.  “Come, my father wished to see you the moment you returned.”  Link was impressed, and concerned, by the quiet ease with which she responded to his appearance.  Then again, he had sensed a dull gleam in her eye the moment Renado had introduced her, the kind of tarnish left from being conditioned to such brutality.

She led him up the stairs and quickly ushered him inside.  Link made an effort not to wince when she accidentally and unknowingly rubbed up against his sore hip when entering the house.  “Father!” she called up the stairs as she and Link ascended.

Renado peeked out of the room where Link had left Colin after the bulblin attack and met them at the stairs.  If the shaman was alarmed at Link’s bloodied and burned appearance, he did well to mask his concern.  “Link--”

“How is Colin?” he asked hastily.

Renado smiled.  “Nothing more than bruises.”

Link nodded but swallowed hard, wishing there had been more he could have done to prevent even that.

“He’ll be fine, Link,” added the shaman, seeing the distress in his eyes.  “He woke a few hours ago.  He wanted to speak with you.”

“Thank you,” said Link, and he brushed past.  Without thinking, he brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to lessen the beating pain that thumped against his ribs.  Renado and Luda watched as he disappeared into the room, concerned.

As soon as Link entered the room, Colin--who had been lying down in bed--hurled the covers from his body and ran to him.  Disregarding his own discomfort, Link knelt down to catch the boy when his weak legs forfeited their support.  “Are you all right?” asked Link.

Colin looked up at him; the bruises of his capture still discolored his face, and Link’s brows tightened as he tried to hide the sadness in his eyes.  He brushed a hand through the boy’s bangs, taking in the full extent of the damage the ogre had caused.

Colin was more pained at seeing Link’s battered appearance.  “What happened to you?” he asked, as a trail of blood slipped out the corner of his big brother’s mouth and drizzled down his chin--the aftermath of one of Darbus’s rather brutal hits.  Colin scurried to grab a towel from his bedside.

Link smiled as Colin dabbed at the dribble of blood, but Link took the cloth from him as he clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Don’t you worry about me.”  Link grunted as he got to his feet and steered Colin to the edge of the bed.  Link’s back cracked as he sat, but breathed a restful sigh through a wince as he took to wiping at his knuckles with the cloth.  “Renado said you wanted to talk to me.”

Colin’s lips puckered and his throat went dry.  “It’s about Ilia,” he said quietly.

Link’s head snapped to the side, looking directly at the boy.  “What about Ilia?  Do you know where she was taken?”  His heart soared.

“Those monsters left me with the others,” started Colin, “but Ilia….  All I know is that they headed north.”

Link looked from Colin to his scratched fingers, the flesh burnt slightly from the task of reshaping his boots.

“Whenever I thought I couldn’t go on,” Link heard the boy saying, “I would think of you and Ilia and hold on.”  Colin took a breath.  “Do you remember what I told you back in Ordon, Link?”

Link grinned.  “That when you grow up, you’re going to be just like me.”  Yet, his smirk faded.  But look at me; I don’t want you to be like this.  I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.

“So, I’m fine now.  You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”  Link returned his gaze to Rusl’s son and, to his surprise, saw a reflection of himself.  Colin’s blue eyes seemed as fierce and as strong, and his golden locks framed his face like the mane of a great lion.  The innocent boy within Colin had disappeared.

Link assured himself that Colin indeed was safe without his protection, and his trust in Colin’s abilities and unwillingness to lie defeated gave Link the kind of strength that he himself needed, for though Link’s body sat in a deep and painful exhaustion, seeing hope ebb and flow in his twin oceans empowered him.  As Link stood he kept the smarting ache in his hip at bay.  He refused to stagger before the son of the blacksmith.

“When next I return to Kakariko,” said Link, his eyes burning with the abated distress in his heart, “it will be with Ilia.”

Colin stared up at him, sad yet confident in Link’s vow.

Link, however, could not bear another mention of Ilia.  The pain he would feel if he could not find her … if he would end up shattering his promise....

He left the room without another word or glance toward Colin.  Link heard him squeeze back under his covers to sleep through the night, and when Link knew he was alone, he leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs and cringed, holding back a bellow of torment.  His shoulder and hip pulsed like toxic rain tearing at his bones, and his chest heaved under the pressure of his screaming muscles.  His face--burnt by the lava’s heat as if it had been the sun itself and scratched along the chin, cheeks, and temples--seemed to scream its own miserable song, humming inside his nerves like the constant vibrations of the cranes inside the mines.

Renado then appeared at the top of the staircase and looked apprehensively toward the drooped frame of Link.  The young warrior immediately tried to right himself.  “I did not think it wise for you enter the mountain pass those days ago,” began Renado, “but I misjudged you then.”  The shaman fell into a reverie, and a smile caught his lips.  “In Hyrule, countless tales are told of the ancient hero … and your deeds bring them all to mind.  But even heroes need help sometimes … and rest.”

Link smiled, his mouth cracking through the blood drying against his chin.  Renado looked toward the door of Colin’s room.  “You have so many demands upon you now, Link, and I think it is your destiny to help this land.  Do not let the fates of the children trouble you.  I will watch over them.  I swear it.

“For now, however,” the shaman said, turning back to Link, “you must cleanse your wounds and take a day of rest.”  Renado’s lips broadened.  “Come, I’ll take you to the hot springs above the village.”

Link had no strength left to thank the shaman, showing his gratefulness by accepting his help out of the house and up a rocky path of the mountain village.  When they reached the hot spring, Luda sat waiting, bandages, towels, and mashed herbs at her feet.  The young girl helped Link in removing his weapons and belts as her father began sorting through the bowls of medicine.

Once Link had stripped down to his white leggings, he blissfully sank into the deep waters of the spring.  Steam rushed over him as he submerged himself to his shoulders, sitting on a rocky ledge in the water.  He splashed away the blood clinging to his mouth and chin and leaned his head back onto the edge above the water.

Renado dabbed two fingers into a medicine bowl and leaned over Link.  He chuckled softly when he realized Link had fallen asleep.

However, it was no light matter.  The shaman’s grin disappeared.  Link had tired by the end of one day within the mines of the Goron tribe, and he had sustained such brutal injuries.  Surely there were far worse situations into which the young warrior would be cast, and he feared that Link’s path would force him into a corner … that the youth who had saved Kakariko Village and purged the rage of the Gorons would one day enter a fight he would not be able to win.  The thought sent shivers down the shaman’s spine.

Would Link, the heroic youth from Ordon, suffer at the hands of the gods?  Would he suffer the very fate from which he tried to save so many?

A half hour later, they moved Link and his belongings to Renado’s room.  As Luda took the soldier’s garments and set to work mending them, the shaman visited the sanctuary.   There, he prayed to the gods.

===============

Link woke to Malo and Colin sitting at his bedside.  The former was holding Link’s bow and ogling over its intricate carvings.  The latter ran out of the room yelling something that resembled “He’s awake!”  

Groaning, Link pulled himself up to lean against the wall behind the bed.  Body bare save for the blankets that covered his lower half, he looked over himself.  A bandage concealed the wound of his shoulder, but the pain the rest of his injuries had caused seemed to have evaporated.

He looked up at Renado when the shaman entered the room, Colin standing at his side.  “How long have I--?”

“Nearly two days,” he said, and at Link’s dismay, he added, “but it was rest well needed.”

“I need to be going.  Where are my clothes?”

“Here,” the shaman said, pointing to a chair with all his articles draped over its back; his gauntlets, belts, and hat relaxed in the seat and his boots bowed against a leg.  “My daughter tried to mend your clothes as best she could.”  Renado looked to the boys then, “Come along, Colin, Malo.”

As Malo set Link’s bow onto the bed, he whispered, “Where did you get this?  Can you really shoot it?  How far off can you hit a target?  Can you show Talo and me?”  Link was glad to see this side of Malo again after all that had happened to him and the others.  He found hope in seeing a strand of their innocence yet to be unraveled.

Yet before Link could answer, Renado hushed him and prodded him out.  Link gave the boys a wink before they turned from the room.  He then climbed out of the bed and examined his clothes.  His white and green clothes still bore their black marks, but they had been stitched so that the holes were no more.  His hat still bore its scorch mark as well.  Link shrugged and began dressing.

===============

Kakariko village was a much different place as Link surveyed it, stepping out of the shadow of Renado’s doorstep.  Some of the mountain tribe had come down from their lands and were clogging the thoroughfare of the town.  Link noticed Gor Liggs himself sitting comfortably and meditating on the porch of a house, which looked like a rundown mart, to the left of Renado’s new accommodations.  

He approached Epona, reins tied to the railing of the house.  It was the first time he had been able to slow down and sort through the bundles she carried.  He came across the frail sword he had intended to take on his journey to Hyrule Castle, an effortless journey to deliver his new weapon and the shield now floating as ashes in the wind to the royal family.  It had only been a short time since he had been a simple rancher, and now….  It was still hard for him to believe the quest into which he had been thrown.

He untied Epona and sent her off toward the spring.  She gladly obeyed and cantered over for a drink of water.  At the sight of the water, Link could hear a faint whisper, a sing-song melody.  No words were audible but somehow he understood the tune.  Within his soul he could feel the spirit’s message, which spoke of the northern lands of Lanayru and of Ilia.  At the thought of finding her, Link glanced down, admiring his old sword like an adult might admire a favorite toy from decades past.  Only a short time on the road and still it felt like ages since he was ignorant and happy.

Looking up from his memories, he spotted another Goron, who carried quite a large crate, entering Barnes’s house and shop across the street.  Curious, Link followed.

Inside Barnes’s house the Goron clambered up the winding stairs on Barnes’s order.  Barnes, who remained downstairs, stood on the opposite side of a counter.  He loaded tiny round balls from a pail into a drawer on a nearby shelf.  It was then that the paranoid man, feeling eyes on his back, whipped around to face Link.

“Oh!”  Barnes was immediately flustered.  The bumbling man apparently knew what the young hero thought of him--the village idiot.  But Link simply thought of him as nothing else than a coward, an often times amusing one at that.  “Renado told me how you persuaded the Gorons, and well--ahem--I suppose I should thank you,” he said, trying to act professional in his haste to get rid of Link so that he did not feel so embarrassed.  “When the Gorons wouldn’t have anything to do with us, I had nothing left.  My business is run out of the ore they bring down, you see.”  A glimmer of childish enthusiasm flickered in his eyes.  “Would you” --he held up one of the orbs-- “care for a demonstration?”

Link, unsure what the sphere was even supposed to be used for, had no say in the matter, for Barnes led him up the clunky staircase and out an elevated back door before Link could respond--or even consider the question.

Barnes placed the tiny ball next to a boulder, lit a frail cord at its top on fire, and ran back inside the house.  Link, squinting at the device and dwindling string, did not know what the function of this object could be, and its inaction befuddled him.  Only when Barnes yanked him back, swearing under his breath, did he realize it was supposed to be dangerous.  Link could not see how it could possibly be--

Debris exploded at the door and a booming rattle filled his ears so loudly that he clamped his hands over them.  His ears whined in the aftermath, and Link ran his fingers over his earlobes, sure that his eardrums had burst and were bleeding.  There was no damage, however, and Link blinked back the pain and shook the song from his ears.  Directly where the sphere had been situated, a cloud of dust rose into the air and expanded outward with the moving breeze.  After the brown haze cleared, Link observed that the boulder had disappeared and a mild crater had indented the ground where the stone had been.  Smaller bits of rock now dotted the area.  

He turned to Barnes, who only giggled wildly.  “What--?” Link started.

“A bomb!” answered the lanky man.  “And I have plenty more.”

Barnes led him back through his shop to the downstairs counter, smiling insanely to himself.  He loaded three of the bombs into a small sack and handed it to Link.  “A gift,” said Barnes irritably.  “But if you ever want more, they won’t be free of charge!”

Understanding the abrupt dismissal, Link took his leave of the bomb maker’s shop, only partly regretting he had entered in the first place.  After all, the new weapons might serve him well on his journey.  He tucked the sack into the pouch on the back of his belt.  Looking up, he saw Renado and the children exiting the sanctuary and inn.  Link met them before they reached the thick of the crowded street.

“May the graces of the great goddesses who shaped Hyrule bear you on your way,” said Renado as he bowed.  Oddly, the shaman seemed wiser than before he had been when Link had fallen asleep two days ago.  Link wondered how it was the man’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a keener understanding, but Link shoved off his questions when he looked to the faces of the children.

A wordless farewell lodged itself between them, but Link broke their stares by gazing down at the frail sword he realized he still carried.  He cleared his throat and looked directly at Talo.  “I won’t be needing this anymore.  I’m sure the four of you could find better use for it.”

To Link’s delight the boy stepped forward and took the weapon graciously.  Talo did not know how to accept the gift and broke the silence with a whisper.  “So … can you really shoot that bow?  How about that pole on top the lookout tower?” he asked, pointing to the highest roof up in the mountains at the northern side of town.

Link nearly laughed aloud but contained it.  Beth elbowed Talo and he fell silent, yet hopeful.  She looked up at Link with large, admiring eyes.

Link passed on his thanks to Renado and Luda and gave a short goodbye to the children.  He hated goodbyes and hoped he would never have to suffer through one more terrible than his abrupt and violent farewell to Ilia.

He whistled for Epona with her favorite melody.  She cantered toward him and slowed only just enough for Link to leap aboard the saddle before launching into a full gallop.  Link did not turn in his seat to wave but removed his bow from its case and shot an arrow to the pole atop the high tower.  It struck its target at the very tip and wobbled at the sudden stop.

Link smiled when he heard the jubilant screams of Malo and Talo behind him.

===============

Link and Epona traveled quickly through the familiar territory of the field north of the village.  He tossed his gaze about the terrain often, watching for any sign of ambush, for the memory of the bulblin onslaught was still fresh and potent in his mind.

Link was glad he had his horse again, for he did not know how far the next barrier of twilight would be, and he did not fancy another long walk through the open fields.  That, and the absence of Epona had disheartened him.  She was his closest friend.  The only difference was in the language that they spoke.  Words were not important as long as feelings could be understood.  He wondered if his friendship with Epona had been the thing that had defined his views on interaction with people as well; “quiet” was, after all, the word commonly used to describe him among the villagers of Ordon.

Epona broke through the shattered pile of burnt wood and galloped at her mightiest speed.  It seemed she, too, wished to find Ilia.  Yet as they crossed the middle of the bridge, Link felt a strange bump at his back.  He brought Epona to a halt and lifted a hand to his backside.  The pouch there had become lighter, and he fearfully turned about, spotting one of the small bombs rolling and bouncing backward across the bridge.  It struck the stone upside-down, and its fuse began dwindling, ignited by the hit.

Eyes wide, Link froze, panicked.

“What are you doing?” shouted Midna.  After such a long silence, her sudden voice jolted him into motion as she screamed.  “MOVE!”

Just as the bomb exploded, Link slapped the reins to outrace the detonation.  When Link passed the archway and hoof met solid ground once more, he halted Epona and turned her about partway.  Stone buckled and the bridge crumbled.  Link watched, mouth agape as, stone by stone, the bridge turned to dust before his eyes, the blocks falling in droves--like swarms of keese tumbling through the sky--into the bottomless abyss before his feet.  By the time the echo of the stones falling and crashing into the rocks below bellowed upward and reverberated through the canyon, a grey powder poisoned the air like an ethereal mist.

Link looked away, wincing, to see the blackened face of Midna.  She crossed her arms.  “You are honestly the clumsiest hero I have ever met.”

Shoving off her remark, Link continued on his path.  He would concern himself on how to return to Kakariko once he had found Ilia.

Link passed through the grey surroundings quickly, the mountains bleak and uninviting.  He sought out any sign of the twilight barrier that surely existed on the border of the Lanayru province, and after crossing a short wooden bridge and dispatching the bulblin guard that brandished its weapon, Link spotted the orange-tinted blackness that rose up from the ground, encasing the land beyond in a dark terror.

He dismounted Epona and instructed her to find a way back to Kakariko.  He then approached the veil of dark flames.

“Ah, finally here,” breathed Midna at Link’s side, her one red eye staring into the tumultuous haze.  “Only one Fused Shadow left.  So, this … is the last of the twilight you’ll see, I guess….”  A slight quiet came over her words, a soft farewell to the unnatural darkness preparing itself within her.  Yet, all of a sudden, the Midna that Link knew resurfaced, the haughty and selfish side.  “Whether or not you accomplish your final task and survive is up to you.”

Link could barely see her arms fold when she turned to him.  “So, shall we enter the twilight?”

Hesitation did not exist anymore.  Link nodded, and braced his body for the coming mutilation.

===============

The crunching torture of the transformation never dwindled in power, yet the act in itself Link had come to no longer fear.  If it had not been the wish of the gods for him to mutate into the beastly creature, he would have been like all else in the foreboding darkness, a wandering, lost spirit to forever drift through life drowned by the fear of the unknown.  His back buckled and broke and reformed in a more prominent arch, and he felt the teeth within his mouth stretch.  All his garments and accessories became extensions of his body, and a furry coat of grey, black, and silvery white grew at an accelerated rate from these additions as well as from his now quite tanned flesh.

Standing upon his four legs, it took him less time to recuperate from the trauma than the two previous metamorphoses.  Midna had watched his changing body, and Link, this time, caught a trace of emotion in her eye when he glanced her way.  The instant she knew he was watching she clouded her feelings and narrowed her eye in her usual half-snarl.  To dismiss the subject further she hopped onto his backside, prodding him along.

Link followed her unvoiced instruction and tried to ignore the sparkle he had seen within her.  She had seemed almost … human.  Sympathetic.  Sad.  And Link sensed something else.  She had looked at him so sorrowfully, so guiltily, as if … she were responsible somehow.  Midna now seemed perturbed by how he had to suffer; he was nearly certain of it, but even if he asked her, she would never resign to her hidden truths.

However, her bond with the twilight was strong for some reason, and perhaps it was this struggle that pained her when she had looked at him.  The struggle over whether she valued Link more than the unnatural darkness.  Which attachment was stronger within her?

“What a shame that this is the last of the twilight.  I’d become so fond of seeing it covering this world....” murmured Midna.  Perhaps it was her own cruel version of hope that she added, “Or is it really the last time we’ll see it?”  It seemed she forced herself to laugh, for it did not sound as unforgiving as most of her chuckles.

Yes, the twilight held a special place within Midna.  Why, Link could not even begin to guess.  He had a sinking feeling that one day, either soon or quite distant, that Midna would have to choose one or the other….  And when that day came … where would her loyalty lie?  With the venomous void that suffocated and enslaved a kingdom, or with the one soul who gave everything to prevent its tyranny?

But he set all his thoughts aside when he tripped over a rock in the road.  By his animal instinct, he barked at it after righting himself, yet there was something peculiar about this rock.  It was not ordinary for stones to be shaped in such a way.  Closer inspection revealed a tiny leather pouch, one that smelled of fresh hay and the wildflowers outside Ilia’s window.

Ilia!

The pouch belonged to Ilia.

… Link, can you promise me this? …don’t try to do anything out of your league....  Just come home safely ...

He could hear her words so clearly, see her so perfectly.  That warm smile....  Her gentle, caring embrace....

“You smell that girl, don’t you?” said Midna knowingly.  “But remember, this scent could be quite old.”

Link shook free of his memories, ignoring all chances that he would be led to a dead end, and set down on his path, registering her scent within his nostrils and following the trail that would lead him to Ilia, the fifth and last Ordonian who had been taken.

===============

Even though they were merely spirits of glowing green unable to be heard unless Link strained his ears, Link was awestruck at the sight of all the inhabitants in what Midna had called Hyrule Castle Town.  That, however, Link could have deduced on his own, for the castle in which he had met Princess Zelda loomed behind the city.

Sight-seeing, though, was not why Link had entered the town.  Ilia’s scent led him down many a tight road, and he ignored the bobbing green lights as they traveled about their day, obviously unaware of the gravity of their circumstance.  Their voices lit the air like the distortions water might cause, a muffled vibration combined with the occasional pulsing laughter that sounded strangled, as if one were opening and closing their ears again and again in quick succession.

Finally, after stepping out of a Hylian guard’s way, Link came to a house built into the same wall as the houses beside it, just as most of the houses in Castle Town had been constructed.  Link read the sign beside the partly open door which proclaimed the premises as Telma’s Bar.

As a guard exited, Link entered, his skin crawling with a nervous tickle.

Off to the right, a bar stretched the length of the wall; the main floor of the tavern expanded to his left.  Upon a makeshift bed of boxes lay an oddly proportioned boy with pale blue skin whose breath came in rasps.  Small fins protruded from his arms, and a kind of tail stretched back from the bridge of his nose, reminding Link of the shape of the hero’s cap he had inherited.  The boy’s feet appeared as thin flippers, and upon closer inspection, the smooth skin covering the boy was in fact a shinning, slimy surface of scales.  He had never encountered such a creature.

Standing alongside the boy was a woman who Link guessed was the barkeep and….  Did his eyes deceive him?  After all these days....

Ilia sat right in front of him.

Link stepped up to her, and barked … but Ilia could not hear him; she continued to stare at the boy.  “This boy,” said Ilia, and her soft voice resounded in Link’s ears.  He wanted to store the hum of her voice within him forever.  “Can you save him?”

Link had not truly understood the urgency in her query until the barkeep answered, and he was pulled violently from his yearnings.  “All right, little lady, try to settle down,” the plump woman was saying.  “I’ve sent for the doctor.  But this is strange.”  Her brow furrowed.  “A child of the Zoras....  I wonder if this is all related to the incident the soldiers were talking about in the back.”

A Zora child?  Incident?  Perhaps all this had been the work of the last Fused Shadow.  Link half wished he could stay with Ilia; his other half willed him to take action, to seek a solution to the situation lying before him.  Ilia could neither hear nor see him, and yet he supposed it was better that way for now.  He did not wish to frighten her in his current state.  Besides, she seemed well enough.  This Zora child did not.  His judgment forced him into action, and he sprang from them and bounded into the midst of the soldiers Telma had mentioned.

“We’ve had many complaints from the citizens who cannot send prayers to the spirit spring of Lake Hylia,” the commanding officer was saying to his second-in-command.  “We have received orders to investigate why the spring is inaccessible.  Understood?”

“Yessir!” shouted the second-in-command, as did the four others lined with him.

Link did not linger to overhear anything more.  He glanced at the map pressed out on the nearest table and located the lake, memorizing the location and how to get there.  He then turned tail and headed for the door, sending one last look toward the downcast Ilia.

===============

As per his memory’s orders, Link left Castle Town through its west exit and followed the path through the field toward Lake Hylia.  They met no resistance along the way, and Link thought it odd, seeing as though the soldiers had said no one could reach the spirit spring that was supposedly located on the lake.  If dark creatures were not the problem, then…?

Link approached the famed Great Bridge of Hylia that had withstood generations of erosion.  It was even more impressive that the bridge at Eldin, taller and grander archways at both ends, and intricate carvings throughout the long reaches of the stonework.  The bridge itself was also much safer, great stone railings built to at least four feet on both sides to help prevent children or carriages from falling astray.  

Midna leapt off his back and walked along it.  Link watched her for a moment.  He could not remember ever seeing her use her feet; she had always hovered above him or simply stood.  He found it strangely entertaining the way the movement made her head and helm wobble.

She looked over the edge of the tall sides of the bridge.  “Hmm, long way down.”  She raised a dark brow.  “Is this what passes for a lake here?”

But Link caught wind of an acrid smell and looked to the floor of the bridge.  What looked like blackish liquid was spread all over the stones from one end of the path to the other.  Link barked, but Midna only frowned at him.  Growling, he ran for her.  But he was only halfway toward her when an archer on the other side shot a flaming arrow at them.  Midna ducked and it fell against the blackness.  It was then that she realized their situation.

A flare leapt up from the arrowhead and fires spread out from it, beginning to engulf the entire bridge in flame, yet though the bridge itself was made of stone and would not be destroyed, Link and Midna were soon cornered, more fiery arrows plunging onto the ground.  “Oh, no!  We’re trapped!” she gasped.

When at last Link finally reached Midna, he thrust his snout between her legs and pushed up on her buttocks, bumping her up into the air.  He nudged forward slightly, and when Midna came crashing back down she landed roughly on his back.  Without retort, she grabbed onto his fur and watched the fires close in on them.

Link did not fancy the thought of burning alive and, in Midna’s panic, did not rely on her to find a solution.

There was only one chance they had at survival, and he did not hesitate; he prayed.

He felt Midna hug him round the neck and heard her prolonged scream of “Are you insane?” as he leapt over the edge of the Great Bridge of Hylia.