Chapter XI: Scars

For a hermetic old scientist, Professor Eldwin was a most energetic talker. Most of his conversation with Sheik was rather one sided though, since the young man’s knowledge of the world was given in to mysticism, magic and mysteries. The technical babble coming out of the professor’s mouth was going completely in one ear and out the other, but Sheik found that if he pretended to look deeply interested, rub his chin thoughtfully and nod every now and then, that Eldwin took no notice of how absolutely lost his guest was.

Navi, nestled snugly down into a warm cloth on the small wooden table next to the fireplace, giggled softly as she watched the scene carry on, despite the desperate glances she received from Sheik, imploring her to do something to distract Eldwin so the young man could go get changed out of his robe. Navi blissfully ignored him, unwilling to set herself up as a target for the professor’s attention.

When Link appeared in the main room of the house, dressed similarly in a robe and vigorously toweling the rest of the bathwater from his hair, Sheik fairly leapt from his seat at the large table in the center of the room with a desperately cheerful call of, “Link! I honestly declare you take the longest baths in all recorded history. Won’t you come sit with the professor and talk? Here, you may have my seat-”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” Link declined, well aware of what was happening.

“Please, I insist,” Sheik countered, teeth gritted while smiling as pleasantly as he could.

“I would hate to interrupt the conversation you’re already engaged in.”

“You’re not interrupting us, really. Sit down.”

“I should really go get changed-”

“Nonsense. If I could sit in my robe for an hour and talk with the kind professor, it will be no trifle for you! Now sit.”

“Yes, Link! Do sit down!” Eldwin said pleasantly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your brother-”

“He’s not my brother,” the Hylian muttered. “He’s . . . a distant relation.”

“Is he? Your similarities to one another are striking.”

Link looked about the room and noticed his shadow’s absence. “Where has he gone?”

“Upstairs, changing most likely.”

“I see.” He started toward the small spiral staircase. “I have to talk to him about something.”

Navi fairly exploded from her nest as she and Sheik both exclaimed in unison: “Link!”

He halted and gazed at his friends dully. The Sheikah released the breath he had been holding, and passed a look to his companion that held both warning and concern. “Don’t,” he whispered softly. Crimson eyes said all too clearly: if you hurt him . . .

Link placed his foot on the first step and murmured, “I won’t. I would just like to know a few things.” And with that, he disappeared up the staircase.

Sheik sighed heavily and slumped back into his chair. The professor leaned forward curiously and said, “I must say, you’re making this young man out to be something quite extraordinary.”

Sheik replied solemnly, “It was nothing of our doing; he was already like that.”

Link did not bother to knock, but his shadow was not surprised by his entrance into the small bedroom; he seemed to be half-expecting his golden haired other’s arrival. Link strode into the room, closed the door behind him and then leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and staring across the way at his shadow. Without his hat, Link saw that indeed his shadow’s hair was black as a crow’s plumage, and still hanging damply about his face.

“Mast—Link,” the dark haired young man whispered reverently, turning his gaze downward slightly as if he were addressing royalty. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I could easily ask you the same question,” Link muttered. “Although I doubt you’ve the wits to answer.” He sighed heavily. “But I didn’t come here to question you.”

The shadow raised his head. “No?”

Link’s eyes glared coldly. “I came to observe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend to be naïve. You know of what I speak. What were you doing before I came in?”

“I was undressing.”

“Well,” Link shrugged nonchalantly. “Carry on.”

The shadow blinked in confusion and opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but judging from the look on Link’s face, the Hylian was in no mood to be interrogated. With slow movements he removed the black leather gloves from his hands and placed them on the narrow table next to his hat. His hands were the same as Link’s, same size and shape, sturdy and strong with unusually elegant fingers, though the shadow bore a white scar on the back of his right hand. Then, with his glinting gray eyes locked within Link’s gaze, the dark haired youth removed his belt and pulled his tunic over his head, leaving him in nothing but his dark gray pants and similarly shaded undershirt.

With steady hands the shadow slowly peeled off the shirt, revealing a finely-muscled torso that Link remembered seeing reflecting back as he stood before many a mirror. How they could look so exactly the same, even he knew not. Every sinew, every muscle, every detail of the other young man was alike, even the way his black hair parted to frame his face and how the thin wisps curled up slightly at the back of his neck.

But his movements were different from his own, Link thought as he watched his shadow’s form. No matter how similar their fleshly bodies were, they were still two different men who acted and moved and reacted in different ways. But despite even this, Link could not help but to feel as if a part of his identity had been stolen from him, that Ganondorf had committed the most horrific of crimes against humanity by making this creature in his enemy’s image. What perfect revenge, even after death. It was as if it had been planned all along.

Link felt violated, as if Ganondorf had torn the clothes from his body and studied his every naked detail with scrutiny; as if the Gerudo Lord had marked every inch of his flesh, hair by hair, piece by piece; as if he had spent long hours in the dark of night, feeling and touching with cold, large, rough fingers the supple, youthful flesh until he had memorized its shape and contour. And from his memory was born this monster, this sick personification of the body from whom Ganondorf had ravaged Link’s own features.

There was no other way to describe it; Link felt raped.

The shadow turned his head to the side for he could not bear to face his master, practically hearing the thoughts that were going through his mind, aware of the feelings of horror and betrayal he must be feeling. His dark eyes burned with tears of frustration. He had not been asked to be made like this. He had not wanted to be hated by the one from which he originally came, simply for being who he was. So the shadow closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was back down in his room of illusions, far from the hatred his life-giver felt for him.

The dark haired young man felt a whisper of a touch against his bare chest, and he turned his head to see Link standing before him, eye to eye, face expressionless and lips drawn thin, very gently ghosting his finger across his twin’s flesh.

“This was where I stabbed you,” he said, tracing a path over the left shoulder where no scar or mark could be seen on his skin. “The sword went through your body and came out the other side. Yet it’s as if you’ve never been touched.”

“You felled me with my own sword, Master,” the shadow said softly, forgetting himself for a moment, overtaken by the fact that he was being touched. His heart pounded uncontrollably. “You destroyed the evil possessing me, but you did not destroy me.”

A dark mist—almost like a thin trail of smoke—rose from the prostrate body and melted away into the surrounding fog . . .

“So I did,” Link murmured, recalling his victory. “But you still bear the scar of my sword upon your hand.”

“I like to think of it as my birthmark,” the shadow said with fondness in his voice, gazing down at the pale, upraised scar and fingering it gently. “For you freed me from the Dark One’s powers. I was born on that day-” He gasped softly as Link’s finger brushed across his chest and down his belly with deliberation.

“You were never born,” Link uttered coldly, rubbing over the firm flesh of his twin’s abdomen where his navel should have been. “You were never carried in a mother’s womb.”

The shadow’s eyes were stinging again; he blinked rapidly and bowed his head, hoping that perhaps his hair would hide the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly, unable to think of anything else.

“Don’t be,” Link said hollowly. “I cannot help the fact that you are the bastard offspring of Ganondorf’s evil. That is your problem.”

The shadow winced in pain as a tear rolled down his cheek and into the fresh cut made by the Master Sword. It stung horribly, and he wiped the moisture from his gray eyes before more tears could run into the wound. Pain was a sensation to which he was still new, at least in a physical sense, for his heart continued to ache as if he were still waiting for his master to return.

Leave me.

“What did you say?” Link asked.

“Nothing,” the shadow replied in a barely audible whisper.

If you came to hurt me, just go away.

“I can hear you,” Link snapped, and gazed into the shadow’s colorless eyes, mournful and filled with unparalleled sorrow.

Please, just leave me.

Thoughts, Link realized. He could hear his shadow’s thoughts . . . but could he hear Link’s?

“Sometimes,” the dark haired youth said in answer. “But only when our hearts are free from the burdens we bear.”

Link pulled away slowly, darkly scowling. “The only burden I bear now is you,” he muttered, and opened the door to leave. “Stay out of my mind and away from my heart.”

“That,” the shadow said, “is entirely up to you.”

And the door slammed closed behind Link.

Link appeared downstairs, dressed in the spare green tunic he had brought and evidently looking ready for travel. Sheik, still clad in his robe, stood from his seat in alarm, watching as his friend scanned the room for any belongings he might have left there. “Where’s Eldwin?” he asked.

“Outside,” Sheik replied warily. “He said something about checking the flood gates for the observation pool-”

“Never mind. I suppose we can leave him a note.”

“A note? What on earth for? Link, what’s going on?”

The Hylian ignored him and called to the fairy, “Wake up, Navi. Get ready to leave.”

“Leave!?” she fairly shouted. “But it’s the middle of the night!”

“If we leave now it’s all the less time I’ll have to spend with that thing,” Link snapped. “The sooner we get to Hyrule and leave him with the Sages, the sooner I can get on with my life.”

“What about us?” Navi argued. “All you’re thinking about is yourself, Link! Why have you become so selfish all of the sudden?”

“Selfish? I’m selfish? No, I’m not being selfish—it is merely my instinct for self-preservation kicking in. I want to get out of here now.”

“Link,” Sheik said gently, placing his hands upon his friend’s shoulders in a gesture of solace. “Keep your senses. It would be a wise idea if we stayed here for the night and carried on to Hyrule in the morning. It has been a trying day for us all-”

Link interrupted with a sharp laugh and pulled away from the touch. “Is that what you call it now, ‘trying’?”

“Link, you need to get some rest before we all start to hate you,” Navi ordered.

“I agree,” Sheik added. “You’re acting like a complete ass.”

“Ah, what are friends for?” the Hylian wondered aloud. “Stabbing you in the back, making friends with your sworn enemies, insulting you to your face—the possibilities are endless!”

“That does it,” Sheik uttered, taking Link firmly by the arm, pulling him up the stairs.

“I mean, who needs enemies with friends like you? I am so fortunate to have them all rolled into one-”

Sheik stormed down the upstairs hallway, opened a door to one of the rooms, and with surprising strength, tossed the disagreeable young man inside. This did not improve Link’s mood. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sheik stalked over him, deftly dodging a wild punch aimed at his face, and grabbed Link’s wrists in a painfully strong grip. Link threw his weight forward, and it was all Sheik could do to keep his balance. A well-placed kick almost sent him to the floor, and Sheik decided then that enough was enough; he swung about, upsetting Link’s balance and sending them both crashing down onto the rickety bed in the corner. Sheik pinned his friend’s thrashing arms to the mattress, then settled the matter of Link’s kicking by sitting squarely on his legs.

“You son of a bitch!” the Hylian seethed, spit flying from between his clenched teeth. “I hate you! Get off of me! Rrrrgh! Let me go, you bastard!”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Sheik said. “But we are not taking another step on this journey until I’ve found out what it is.”

Link snarled like an animal, arched his back and lurched about, trying to lift his arms. But despite the Sheikah’s tranquil exterior, within him was concealed a surprising strength. After a few minutes Link gave up fighting against his friend, his face turning an indignant shade of red when he found how easily he had been rendered submissive. He gazed up angrily at Sheik and huffed, sending the few tendrils of hair that had fallen into his eyes during his struggle flying. Suddenly a deranged smile broke through his angered countenance and he began to laugh. It was not a pleasant laugh at all, but a deep, throaty chuckle as of one who was aware of what another was not.

Link finally stopped laughing long enough to arch one golden eyebrow suggestively, and gaze down to where their bodies met at the hip. “Why, Sheik, we barely know each other,” he whispered huskily.

“Don’t be such a petulant brat, Link. You’re out of control.”

“And what of it? You think it is your job to tame me?” The Hylian coyly nudged his hip into Sheik’s, causing him to close his eyes and clench his teeth. “How typical of a royal Sheikah, so haughty and proud. Think I’m out of line, do you? Then punish me, Sheik. Beat the Hero of Time like a dog. Do whatever you-”

“Stop it. Something is possessing you, Link. I think this aggressive behavior of yours is a cry for help-”

Link tried to sit up but Sheik’s hold was too strong, and he ended up flopping back down into the pillows, breathing heavily. “You envy me, I know. I was chosen to be the Hero and you were not. How awful that must be for you.”

“You are arrogant and conceited if you think that,” he said sternly, though deep inside he was worried for his friend who was acting so strangely, while at the same time fighting his desire to slap the words out of Link's contemptuous mouth, no matter how false he knew them to be.

“Ha, you must hate me! Go on, hate me, Sheik! Punish me! Make me pay for my words. Abuse me like you so badly want to—I can see how desperately you yearn to break me . . . and have me.”

Link grinned malignantly, staring through the dark crimson eyes and into Sheik’s soul. “Look at yourself,” he sneered. “Pathetic. Thinking you’re so far above me. Don’t fight it. Go ahead, take me. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind if you did, to tell the truth.” At this he let out a long, low groan and arched his back. “Oh, gods. Why don’t you take me, Sheik? Get it all out of your system and put it into mine.”

Link, face feverishly flushed and beading with sweat, thrust his pelvis upwards against Sheik’s; even through cloth Sheik could feel the heated, hardened flesh of his friend . . . but only his friend. Their bodies were so close together he could almost hear Link’s pounding heart, beating away inside his heaving chest. Through the untied traces of his shirt he could see the glistening, shiny skin of Link’s elegant throat; sweat ran down into the rounded hollow of his collarbone, pulsing gently in rhythm with his throbbing heart. Each tendon and muscle in his neck flexed smoothly with every moan and groan he made, and Sheik felt himself on the brink of surrender, ready to submit to the unknown, the unmentioned, the overpowering force that was one of his most basic instincts.

He clenched his teeth and tried to keep his insides from fluttering as the heady sensation of lust wrapped its heavy arms around him. He must be stronger than this.

Link squirmed beautifully, and began to groan: “Ohhh, stick it in me, Sheik. Shove it in deep and let me feel you inside. Ahhn, if you would only get off of my legs, they would be wrapped around you. I would gladly let you take it from me. You know you would love it as much as I. Haah, it’s so hot.” He was panting now, rolling his head back and forth with his mouth open wide. “Nnnh, hahh . . . oh, Sheik. Touch me, Sheik, before I go mad . . .” He went suddenly rigid and trembled, and in a desperate voice that sounded more like the hero that Sheik knew, cried: “Unh! Ah! Oh gods . . . get it out of me!”

Sheik, holding desperately onto Link’s convulsing body, turned about and shouted over his shoulder, “Navi! Professor! Come quickly!”

Eldwin, returned from his reconnaissance of the premises, burst into the room as if he’d been shot from a cannon, and stared in amazement at the writhing young man, screaming and moaning in agony.

“Don’t stand there! Do something!” Sheik cried.

“What is wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. He has been acting strangely all night. First he was tired, and then he was irritable, then he became consumed by . . . by anger, envy, conceit, depravity, going from one to the other, as if in stages.”

Navi flew in from behind the professor. “What’s happening to him?”

Tears were streaming from Link’s eyes and rolling down the sides of his face. “Oh, gods!” he keened. “Oh, gods! I’m dying! The pain-! Nnnhhh . . . Killing me from the inside out-”

“Can’t you give him anything?” Sheik implored Eldwin.

“I’m reluctant to treat an ailment when I don’t know what’s wrong with the patient,” he said. “But I’ll try to find a general relief for the pain.” And with that, he disappeared from the room and could be heard pattering down the stairs.

Link had calmed down and was no longer writhing, but his eyes were glassy and distant. Sheik remembered seeing eyes like that many times in his service as a soldier to the royal family; they were the eyes of a dying man.

He cupped Link’s burning cheek in his hand. “Hang in there, Link,” he whispered. “Don’t let go. Keep your eyes on me, don’t close your eyes! Look at me, Link. That’s it.”

Link was beginning to grow pale, the color fading from his cheeks and his hands becoming cold. “I want to . . . go to sleep,” he murmured, dark eyelids growing heavy as his breathing became steadily shallower. “Let me sleep.”

“No! No, Link, look at me. Stay with me. Stay awake.” Sheik glanced over his shoulder at the fairy. “Navi, he’s dying. Go to Eldwin and tell him to fetch the red potion from the saddlebags. Be quick now!”

“Right!” she barked, and shot from the room in a burst of twinkling lights.

Sheik took Link’s cold, clammy, limp hands in his own and held them securely. “You’re going to be all right, Link,” he whispered to his friend. “Eldwin and Navi are getting some potion and you’ll be fine again before long.”

The Hylian groaned softly and shook his head. “Not potion. Won’t help . . .”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it will.” Sheik placed two fingers upon Link’s neck; the pulse was weak, although rapid. Summoning all his knowledge of illnesses and medicine, he tried to define the symptoms and see if he knew the cause. While he had not been educated and trained as a Sheikah herbalist, he remembered a great deal from the medicine man who had lived in his home village, and though Sheik had shown a particular interest in curing illnesses and helping others, he had been selected to be a soldier to the royal family, not a doctor.

Gazing down at Link’s face, Sheik wished it had been otherwise. Maybe he would have had the knowledge to understand what was happening to his friend, and why. Still, he tried. Confusion, fatigue…emotional instability? Perhaps it was side effects of his returned memories, but he had not been so crippled during their journey to the lake. But then the absence of Link’s shadow came into play…that was probably due to more mystical reasons than any physical ones. Increased fatigue, irritability, disorientation. Then the encounter with his shadow. After that, things took a downhill turn for the worst. Fever, paleness, intense internal pain, delirium, loss of breath, weak pulse, glazed eyes, cold flesh, moist skin . . .

Sheik froze. He had seen this happen before a long time ago. It was customary for Sheikah guardians of the royal family to inspect all food and drink to ensure that the monarchs were in no danger of being poisoned. When Sheik was a boy he had witnessed a guardian of the royal family suffering from the effects of poisoning, at least until the medicine man had asked everyone to leave the room. It had been a traumatizing event to witness for a child, particularly since Sheik himself was to be a royal guardian one day. All his life he had been told that no person was as strong or as swift as a Sheikah soldier . . .

“We are all still mortal, aren’t we,” he said, brushing Link’s golden bangs back from his forehead.

The Hylian was so weak he could only sigh in reply, eyes so glazed and dull that Sheik began to hold little hope of ever seeing their blueness sparkle again. What could have possibly poisoned him, and why? What kind of poison was this? Tears suddenly burned within Sheik’s ruby colored eyes when he realized that this might be the last moments he shared with Link ever again.

Footsteps suddenly sounded, and Sheik turned around to see the shadow standing in the doorway, black hair still wet and slicked back off of his forehead, making the long, red cut across his right cheek seem cruel and stark. He was dressed in a similar undershirt and gray tunic, although it was sleeveless and its hem fell short of his knees. His silver eyes held fear, but it was a calm fear. He murmured to Sheik, “He is passing.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because,” he whispered, walking quietly over to gaze down at his twin, “I feel his death as if it were my own.”

Link, though on his deathbed, still managed to frown weakly upon seeing his shadow. “Go . . . away,” he uttered.

Sheik moved aside as the dark haired young man sat down on the bed next to Link; very gently he took his scarred hand and laid it down upon Link’s, palm to palm, and intertwined his fingers with his master’s.

Tears streamed from blue eyes. “You . . . disgust me.”

The shadow made no reply, but slipped his hand beneath Link’s body and pulled him upright into a sitting position; Link was too weak to fight against these invasions of his person, and the only sounds of objection came from the faint moans in his throat. Gently did the shadow slip his hand underneath the hem of Link’s short tunic and shirt, and placed it to the warm flesh in the small of his back.

Link gasped and closed his eyes, falling forward against his dark haired twin, resting his chin upon the sturdy shoulder. The bare hand upon his flesh, and the hand locked within his own…he felt that sensation again, like that of energy being drawn from his body. Parasite. He’s sucking out my soul. Link squirmed futilely as the process continued, fighting against it with what little strength he could summon.

And then, almost like a wave rolling over sand, the horrible feeling of his soul seeping out of his body disappeared, instead replaced with a wonderful sensation of peace and content. It flowed over his feverish skin like a veil of cool water, and into his body through the shadow’s hands; it seeped into Link’s palm and up his arm, wrapping around his heart like a cool spring breeze while from the other hand came an icy, sparkling shiver that traveled up his spine and branched off into his very bones. The hellish, scorching fire within the center of his being was extinguished, and Link gave a shudder and a heavy sigh of relief.

“What are you doing to him?” Sheik asked the shadow, staring at the amazing transformation Link was going through.

“I don’t know,” he shadow replied hesitantly. “It just . . . feels right.” Link raised his arm and cast it over his twin’s shoulder, closing his eyes and hugging him close. The shadow gasped for breath, rapidly blinking eyes that were flooding with tears. “I’ve never felt such warmth.”

For a long while they stayed as they were, holding each other in their arms while in a silence of awe and elation. Presently Professor Eldwin along with Navi came trampling up the stairs and into the room, gasping for breath; the old man carried not only the vial of red potion, but several jars and pouches and bundles of dried plants and seeds. “I didn’t know what kind of symptoms I’m trying to treat, so I just brought everything I had! Is he all right?”

Navi gasped out loud when she saw Link and his shadow locked together in a tight embrace. “By Din’s blazes, what happened while we were gone, Sheik?”

“He’s . . . I believe he was being poisoned by something,” the Sheikah said.

“Poisoned?” Navi echoed.

“I don’t know by what or whom, but it was clearly enough to be fatal. But then, the shad—I mean, he came in and . . . he . . .”

“Cured him, by the looks of it,” Eldwin said, scratching his pointy white beard. “Fascinating.”

Link murmured sleepily and his eyes fluttered open, bluer and more alive that ever. It took a few moments for him to realize where he was. He gently pulled away from his shadow and ran a hand through his golden hair, blinking groggily as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep. “What . . . happened?” he asked, his voice soft and pleasant, nothing like the tormented, cruel tone he had been using only moments ago.

“You don’t remember?” Sheik asked dubiously.

“No, I,” Link began. “I remember . . . the Water Temple and . . . feeling so very tired. And then the . . . the room of mist. A voice in my head . . . flower petals falling all around . . . and somebody-” Link looked up and realized he had himself wrapped around his shadow. He jerked away, though not angrily, but as if in fear. “You.”

He frowned suddenly and reached up, delicately fingering the cut across his twin’s face; it was already beginning to scab over, and would soon become a scar he carried for the rest of his days. The shadow flinched slightly, but allowed Link to trace the long path across his cheek and over his nose. “What happened to your face?”

“An accident,” the shadow replied, his tone almost sad. “But you needn’t worry about that. Navi and Sheik want you to rest now.”

The young Hylian nodded drowsily and lay back down into the soft pillows. “Yes . . . so very sleepy . . .”

Sheik turned to Eldwin and whispered, “Would it be wise to let him go to sleep? What if he goes unconscious?”

“The rest would do him good,” said the old man. “But perhaps it would be better if someone stayed and kept watch over him during the night, just to be certain he doesn’t experience any rebound of his illness.”

“I’ll do it,” the shadow said, turning to face the others. “Sheik and Navi need to rest, too. I do not. I shall keep vigil over Link.”

“That’s a good idea, lad,” said the professor. “And if he starts having attacks again just, er . . . do whatever you did last time. It seems to work, though I wonder how . . .”

Sheik put a hand on Eldwin’s shoulder. “Professor. We have not been completely honest with you.”

“Sheik!” Navi chided, aware of what he was about to say.

“It would be in Link’s best interest if we told him,” Sheik said to her. “Besides, Eldwin might know what is happening to Link and how to fix him. I will not rest easy until I know what is wrong with him, and I certainly wouldn’t want a repeat of this incident happening while en route to Hyrule.”

“Well, you made a point there,” Navi agreed. “Perhaps we can tell him.”

“Tell me what?” the professor asked, looking back and forth between them.

Sheik led him from the room as he began, “It all started seven years ago…” His voice trailed off as they descended the stairs, and the room was left in silence. Navi, lingering behind, fluttered over to the bedside and lit upon the shadow’s shoulder as he sat upon the bed, gazing at Link’s sleeping face, peaceful and free from burden.

“How did you know?” she asked softly.

“I myself am not certain,” he whispered. “Something inside of me became aware of his suffering, and my hands…” He held them up before his face. “They seemed to act of their own accord, as if they knew what to do. I . . . I am confused,” he admitted. “I don’t know what is happening to me, or to Link. I don’t want to see him suffer. Do you think it is my fault?” Tears sprang to his eyes as his voice became choked with sorrow. “Do you think that I caused his suffering?”

“No, no, certainly not,” Navi insisted, and darted out to catch a tear that ran from his colorless eyes. “Now don’t you start crying again. That wound will never heal if you keep soaking it with tears.”

The shadow smiled and laughed softly. “You are so kind to me, Navi. I owe many thanks to you.”

“Bah! Think nothing of it!” Navi said lightly.

The dark haired young man reached out and tucked a lock of golden hair behind Link’s elegant, pointed ear. In his sleep, the Hylian sighed softly.

“I love him,” the shadow murmured suddenly. “From the moment I first saw him those seven years ago. Through the darkness of my being, he cut through like the brightest, most beautiful light I had ever seen, and left me breathless, though I had never breathed. When I looked into his eyes and saw the soul beneath, I knew I had come from him, that I had truly been his, once upon a time. And I was stunned, knowing that I had been born from his beauty, his pureness, his light . . . and I knew then that he was not my enemy.

“No matter how you may look at it, he is my creator, not Ganondorf. The Dark One may have given me flesh, but Link had given me life long before he was even aware of it. I am not evil. I, I do not wish to hurt him!”

“Don’t fret, Shadow,” Navi consoled the distraught youth. “You did not hurt Link—you saved him! We should all be grateful to you, for Link might not be alive right now if it had not been for you.”

“I don’t know . . . Maybe you are right. Still, it means nothing to me if my master cares nothing of my deeds, or of me. Why would he? I haven’t even a name for him to know me by.”

The shadow’s grief was so apparent that Navi began to feel herself being weighed down the more he spoke. She decided to try to change the dour mood, and remembered what he had asked her to do back in the Water Temple. “Hey, would you like to hear the story of when I first met Link when he was a little boy? Oh, you will laugh! He was such a brat sometimes, and we got into all kinds of silly trouble.

“First, I will tell you of how the Great Deku Tree assigned me to be Link’s guardian fairy. I was upset of course. I didn’t like the idea of having to look after an unruly child, and did you know that the first thing I had to do was to wake him up? You would think the Great Deku Tree would have assigned me an easier task, like taming a fire breathing dragon! I practically had to scream my lungs out just to get him to open his eyes! He can be awfully grouchy in the morning too, so I thought I’d warn you before you tried waking him up. The last thing we need is to have a dead body to cart back to Hyrule, in very small bits if you’re lucky…”

The shadow smiled and gradually forgot his sorrows as Navi sat on his shoulder and whispered the story of Link’s boyhood adventures long into the night.