『 景元 』

Writing Sample.

Wood carving didn’t start as a hobby, but rather a lecture.

· · ·

        The first day his uncle wanted to teach Link patience, he did it on a rainy day. They were the tiny hylian's least favorite, and for many reasons. He knew he could still escape his uncle’s sight, and go play outside. Link’s antics were plenty, and vanishing off was an endeavour easily achieved. But after catching sickness for a month, the boy evidently learned better. A day or two locked behind doors, watching the downpour outside, was nothing in comparison to weeks of Syrup’s revolting remedies. Link still remained suspicious that the witch had added those nasty rhubarbs on purpose, but they sure worked wonders to emphasize the lesson.

However, this was the fourth consecutive day with rain. And though young Link had learned well how to polish a sword, how to clean a shield, and helped his uncle count items on his extensive inventory, the small one was clearly running out of patience.

While a tiny restless boot tapped incessantly at the floor, the abrupt clank and clatter on the table nearby forced it to a stop. Wide blue eyes looked at the several tools displayed in front of him, a marvelous collection of knives and gouges he’s watched the seasoned knight use in his leisure time. Thick fingers picked one, and with surprising gentleness delivered it into Link’s hands.

“You have to picture it, envision what you want to do first. Then choose the right wood.” Link could still remember the knight’s solemn voice imparting the lesson, palpable through his memories. “Learn its nature, its strength, its multiple weak points, and with the blade in your hand, carve anew, chase in its direction.”

Wood can be carved sturdy into a shield to protect, Link learned, or shaped into a pointy spear to dent lethal wounds. In its versatility, it can be strong enough to hold a roof above one’s head, protect many from the harsh weather, or quickly break while consumed at the licks of fire, trapping shut those it is bound to protect. Wood could deteriorate at the mercy of time if cut weakly, or withhold for many upcoming generations when carved strong, if forged worthy.

“If you fail to follow these rules, your work will turn frail, and easily break.”

If only time had stopped at that moment, waiting for the rain to end, carving wood figurines with his uncle back home. Heed no call years later, stayed put, and waited for orders as his uncle told him to. But it had been the smallest hope that defeated that sense of dread. It was the faintest bravery in his heart that overtook him at that moment, wrapped a cape around his shoulders, and lit a lamp that guided his way onwards and into the castle.

It was his own light that discovered the man lying at the verge of death. It was his uncle’s blade that carved the path ahead, and his family’s shield which protected him from all enemies. Link knew their faces, having trained with those men, learned how to swing the blade in his hand, how to parry a blow with the shield in the other, heard them laugh and share mead and bread after a night’s watch. He watched them fall, one after the other, and thought of their families who awaited their return home. Link was never able to look them in the eye, and say he had no other way.

Now, as he forces his own legs to dodge his enemy’s next incoming attack, shadows of the past chasing at him, he realises it’s become significantly harder to run each time. Perhaps that’s been his greatest mistake: thinking he could run away, that he could ignore such an important lesson all along. Parrying the next incoming blow, his own sword glows with the same pride of a long lost lineage from his time...

A pride that’s always carved his path.

· · ·

To the blade’s chosen hero…
In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer the Trial of the Sword.
You presently lack the power necessary to wield the true splendor of the Master Sword…
You must fortify your mind, body, and soul by eradicating all obstacles that appear in this realm.

In this illusory realm of sacred mystery, anything can happen…
All that you obtain here will be lost upon your return to the reality you know.
Chosen hero of the Master Sword…
Overcome the Trial of the Sword and claim the blade’s true splendor!

Nightmares and reality were not hard to tell apart, that’s a well earned knowledge Link obtained throughout the years. But as much as Link wanted to thank the Windfish for it, he mostly held his own mind responsible for the workings. No day went without a dream making him doubt his own reality. Link’s experiences marked him during his travels, and made countless memories with all sorts of people. It’d be a lie if he said he’d never willingly lost himself to them. It was the only way he could keep those closest to him forever: by remembering. Even if it was in the shape of nightmares. But the older he grew, the less reactive he became towards these mind tributes. There was always a pattern to it, a rhythm, one he could easily follow: first, every dream began by chasing down a rabbit; and second, in every single one of them Link was the rabbit.

This scenario did not start any differently.

From the moment he was teleported into this realm, Link could feel an instigating gaze following his every move. As enemies appeared on sight, one after another the knight engaged them into battle. It didn’t matter if he had been stripped of his whole equipment; Link had been in this same situation several times during his journey. That was just his luck, therefore he learned early on that his own body was his most trusted weapon; he had not spent rolling the punches with Ricky all those years for naught.

Disarming the enemies proved an easy challenge, using the fallen weapons to his own advantage, regaining piece after piece of his own equipment from chests with every level… but as he did, Link also noticed the enemies grew more cunning, stronger, and troublesome. That, and the Master Sword that appeared on his back when Link was transported to this Hyrule still remained missing. Link didn’t think it a real hassle, just another challenge. He remembered the enemies' weak points quite well, even as more familiar monsters and enemies began appearing...

... At least until that cursed sword materialised before him.

When the walls turned dark and decayed, and the single gold hilted sword rested serene in the middle of the room, Link knew exactly what followed. Or better said, what would ensue the moment he pulled said sword out of its pedestal. The scent of mold and disrepair echoed his own story with this place, no matter the years that have passed since the last time he set foot in it. The Dark World was a place instilled in his mind like burning metal on skin, but the Palace of the Four it’s what truly made Link swore he’d never return to it.

But by the Three, he did not remember the four of them being this difficult.

By the third time a blade painfully plunged at him, Link had already confirmed this was no nightmare. Or at least, the part of his brain that wished it was finally understood there’d be no waking up this time. The amount of creativity strung together in these scenarios would have never been fabricated by his own head, not in a century. It felt endless. Each time he parried a different blade, another came straight at him, each of the shadows’ strength as meaningful in its own right. The four of them, all and each shaped after himself. Had they grown stronger like him, or with him? He cursed inwardly at the possibility as another wound was painted across his cheek.

Whichever the case, Link understood what their purpose was, and his energy waned just as planned the longer he fought back. Those glowing eyes showed no sympathy, no remorse, or even the slightest hesitation to finish the knight off the moment he dared lower his shield. Could Link truly be surprised? It mimicked perfectly his own battle style against stronger enemies. But at this rate, Link was not making any significant advances, he was only holding them off. Patience didn’t truly feel like the answer, and dying wasn’t it either.

If you fail to follow these rules, your work will turn frail, and easily break.

At that moment, as fleeting as the memory could be with the ensuing battle, Link remembered. As he danced with his opponents, blade and shield in hands, Link could vividly shape the first time he picked up a sword. A tangible wooden sword carved by his own uncle, given as a present on his fourth birthday. The seasoned knight made Link understand that day it would be no toy, but a handful of responsibility he must pledge his own life for. It would mark both the beginning and the end of his duty to the land, if the Goddesses desired so.

It would be several years later, when metal replaced wood, that Link would truly understand the meaning of those words, and who he truly was. Patience still didn’t feel like the answer then, but regret wasn’t it either. Not when the world turned dark and time moved too fast, forcing the boy into a man even faster, all while the blade in his left hand carved the path ahead.

Link remembered praying for mercy, for the light of day to never run out, and once night came, he prayed for sleep to embrace him shortly. Even now, he cursed the moment he set a single foot outside his house, as if Her or The Three above would ever let him choose otherwise. But by his own choice or not, Link was definitely going to make it. He was a Hero after all, proved to wield the blade in his hand, the same hand marked by The Three. A Champion of Hylia in his own right, regardless if his Courage was hosted by another. Link was Zelda’s knight and protector of Hyrule, his homeland, his people. Link was no frail work, he was shaped by his own means, and he would not easily break.

And thus Link pictured it, envisioned what he wanted to do. Then, he chose the right action.

Fire met with fire, and the first shadow fell at the mercy of his sword perfectly slicing at its throat. Ignoring the bleeding coming down his right sleeve, Link moved along, vanishing in thin air, veiled by the magic of his cape as the other three approached. The second shadow managed to block his next blow as he reappeared, but it did not foresaw the potent icy gust that froze it in place. Link let the wind of a Gale seed lift him up, away from the other two, sweat rolling down his temple when enormous pillars of fire chased after him, an intolerable heat engulfing the room. But by the time the second shadow unfroze, another fell at the plow of Link's magic hammer, and the following stab on the chest of his sword. Two down, two to go. The knight smirked before vanishing again.

Link knew the shadows’ nature. Their strengths, and their multiple weak points...

It was himself who he was fighting, after all. When the third shadow fell with an arrow between its eyes, just for an instant, Link could tell someone was definitely there, present, watching. Eyes that did not belong to the voices in this room, not to the Goddesses above, not to the dopplegängers he was fighting. Something else, something hiding, lurking. Air burned its way into his lungs, but Link refused to stop and take the time to find out. Whatever it was, it would show itself eventually. They always would.

The last shadow chased after him, swinging a gigantic sword like its weight meant nothing. Rock and stone shattered at its step, causing Link to almost trip as he jumped out of its way. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he noticed something flash momentarily. But the shadow pushing its way forward prevented him from recognising its shape. Link’s blade glowed, and sent the shadow's enormous claymore backwards as sparks and flares flew with its parry. Link’s voice emerged this time, and the shadow stepped back, forced by his next strike. Using his last remaining magic, a shock of energy dashed from Link’s hand. It was by no means strong enough to defeat the dark one, but gave Link time to close distance, and thrust his blade deep into its gut. Glowing eyes softly closed, giving in to Link’s embrace, fading into dark smoke and dust, and stillness finally returned to the room.

Refusing to fall yet, Link used the sword he held in hand to maintain his balance, looking around for another enemy to come, searching for the other presence in the room. But he found himself alone. The knight sighed and neared the pedestal, sitting by it until his breath came to a soothe. Link glanced at his bleeding hand, and searched at his bag for that piece of the meat he grilled in one of the previous rooms. Once his stomach settled and the bleeding stopped to a fairy tonic, Link stood up and looked at the newly activated platform. “It’s not over yet, isn’t it?” Link groaned as light engulfed him again, and blue tendrils transported him to the next level.

Link opened his eyes to a thick fog, and the sight of Hyrule Castle in the distance.

· · ·

This was his last useful sword, and the battle was far from over, proving this new adversary to be simply too much (though worded much differently in Link’s colorful vocabulary).

Dressed in gilded soldier’s armour and partially covered in moss, the skeleton had no other expression than its exposed boney smile; the mockery in it oozing with an ever present, untold joke. It irritated Link to the marrow. It was enough to make Link reckless, and cause him to hack harder at each opportunity. He regretfully scolded himself, however, as the first piece of the sword flew loose from the impact, barely chipping at the raised shield in front of him.

“Argh! Just die already!” Link hissed with scorn and exhaustion, rolling away from another upcoming blow. But when Link expected no answer whatsoever, the skeleton cackled amused instead, no more reassuring than its previous haunting loud breath.

“I already did, boy.”

Between shock and disbelief, Link could not move in time out of range, and his sword shattered when it made contact with his adversary’s slash. Link quickly lept away, shield in hand and panting, but the Hero's Shade made haste and pursued.

“Something wrong with your sword, boy?” Link glared at the sardonic tune in the skeleton’s voice, his shield trembling with the clashing and hacking of metal against it. “Why, talk about someone without guts.”

“Ugh! Shut up!” Link parried, but as he did he left himself too open. Metal bit at his torso, a fine cut that made him yelp and scurry off again. But the Dead Knight was right, there was something awfully wrong with the last sword in his back that made Link refuse to draw it out.

He didn’t trust this blade. Not yet, anyway.

Every single time Link activated the Four Sword’s power, he could only remember the sudden feeling of whitening out, regaining consciousness in a completely new place days after (the first time it had been months). A wave of new emotions and blurred memories would overwhelm him next moment, as if the entirety of a story witnessed from the eyes of several other people got injected into his brain. It’d leave him with a splitting headache, the new acquired memories fading like who awoke from a vivid dream, just to forget what the dream was about right after. Link had a hunch of what happened each time, but refused to activate the blade to find out.

Could he really risk that now, in the middle of a trial that had cost him this much blood already?

The answer was simple. Everything pointed in one single direction, and it was just a matter of time Link finally took the first step towards it. In the end, four was better than one.

Link gripped at the sword's hilt, his shield withstanding the next blow. His mind focused then, and slowly disappeared. No, disappeared was not the right word. He remained, he did as the elements of the swords embraced him. Link had to trust his sword. Not because it was his only option, but because Link had to stop running away. It had been his biggest mistake, not trusting himself to the blade that would carve his path, and leading it into the right direction.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll make you proud,’ one of the four kindly whispered, and Link felt that while not alone anymore, he could finally let go. And then, The Four appeared.

“Let’s dance, shall we?” The Four grinned at the same time, stepping into formation and launching the first strike towards the Shade.

· · ·

“You have done well…
The depth of your heroism is beyond question.
We are the ones who prepared this trial, following a revelation from the Goddess Hylia.

To the one who has overcome the Trial of the Sword…
you have proven your hand worthy of the legendary Master Sword.
Now that the chosen hero has gained the power necessary to combat a forthcoming foe,
our sacred duty has been fulfilled.
Hero of Legend…
With the awakened Master Sword, now boasting its true splendor…
protect the kingdom of Hyrule…
for now and for always…”

· · ·

As Link climbed up the stairs, his mind replayed over and over the look in those eyes. The Dead Knight fell to the power of four swords united at last, and all parts of Link became one to watch him fade. In his last moments, bone turned into skin and flesh, the moss in gilded armor replaced with green and the vibrant red of a deep wound in its chest. Link had the sudden apprehension of knowing the man better than what those eyes showed, one blue and the other marked with a pronounced scar across it. Those eyes, reflecting the void skies above, turning to look at him. A growing darkness, fast and ruthless which a ravenous snake, took him before Link figured out the where and how, and almost missed the Knight wording something else with a regretful smile. An apology? No, Link could not truly make words out, and what could the man be apologising for besides his terrible humor, anyway? And what was this sinking emotion in his chest the more he thought about it?

When Link finally reached the platform at the top of the stairs, he tried to shake off the image. He focused on the emerald hilted blade resting on the pedestal instead. The monks had spoken, and Link’s left hand shone proud with the gold mark of the Courage as it reunited with the Legendary sword's hilt. With a gentle pull, Link released the sword, and it shone with a marvelous gold. Blue tendrils covered the knight for the last time, transporting him out of the Illusory realm, and before the rooting feet of the Deku Tree.

· · ·

“The foolish are like ripples on water, for whatever they do is quickly erased.” Link’s eyes observed the blade skin at the wood in his hands, his uncle’s words carving into his mind. He smiled, showing him proudly the single round cucco figurine in his hand. “But the righteous are like carvings upon wood, for their smallest act shape something durable.”

· · ·

“Ah. So you have finally returned.” Link’s eyes opened to green bathing his surroundings. The light of dawn, he figured. The voice of the Deku Tree booming softly in the forest clear, and Link watched the glowing gold Master Sword in his hand (an echoing voice greeting him from within), and the Four Sword in the other.

“Your mind, body and soul are now ready to wield the Master Sword at its full potential. Now you are truly one with it. I must say, that other blade of yours, you must still uncover its secrets. When you do, its glow will suit you just as well. As ever, I shall watch over your journey from here...”

Link quietly nodded at the enormous Tree, and watched it doze back into a deep sleep. Too many questions engulfed the hylian knight, but a warm smile dissipated them all. Why was he smiling? He completely ignored it. But as Link sheathed both swords at his back, he could not stop thinking on that rainy day with a newfound affection. After all this time, Link had learned his lessons well, but he still had a path to carve ahead. A path worthy of his lineage.

"Don’t worry. I’ll make you all proud."