Lethe

There was a door in front of him, offering its metallic orb of a knob, beckoning him to open its maw. He knew those memories could be on the other side--he knew that the owner of the memories could also lie dormant inside the room. The door was out of place as it was; there was no hint of habitation in the cave but this moldy, aching remnant of a wooden barrier. There was a wall of rock, and then this, and it gave him a terrible feeling.

In Gerudo culture, doors were not considered necessary or desirable. Gerudo women allowed openings in the walls, spare windows cut from adobe, and if needed, silk curtains for a degree of privacy. But doors were considered an affront and a threat. They concealed too much from the public eye, allowed too much secrecy and incentive to conspire. The Gerudo doors were lucid, honest, and all words would pass through the walls without effort.

Doors, Ganondorf always found, felt too strong and blockaded. Whenever he saw a door, he could not escape the possibility that there was something frightening behind it, and he was forced to accept that he could not see it and that nothing he could do would save him from this threat.

This door was different only because he knew that there were the foulest of demons behind it. He approached it and strangely felt his terror dwindle, but he did not realize that the lack of fear was only due to a steady loss of understanding. Waters were rising, slicking across his feet and ankles, and as he was forced to wade through the dark streams, he could feel his knowledge being leeched. He forgot more as he shuffled and sank, and by the time the door was opened and the devil inside it was awakened, his name was nothing but a distant memory that had long since wandered into wilderness.

**********

"Oh, thank the goddesses you're here--"

Was someone speaking? He blinked and tried to peer through the curtain of darkness. Indeed, there was a voice...

He could swear he recognized it, but the recognition was so far away...

"Ganondorf--"

'Ganondorf'? Who is that? And why was this pest addressing him this way?

He could feel an overwhelming desire to vomit and shiver. There was water and mold everywhere, the stench of age and moisture suffocating him. He was standing in water, feeling drained and tired, his mind exhausted of any recollections at all. What was happening to him? Why couldn't he remember anything?

"You have to do something, quickly--the water's rising."

Water? There was no water here! There was only an endless desert, barren and still, lilting, familiar lullabies shuddering in his ears. His heart was beating radiantly, as though at last he had woken up from this terrible nightmare, and there found himself home.

Home! He hadn't been there in what seemed to be centuries. It was milky, silent, open, baring the very things he loved to hate. He remembered those striking feelings of solitude that overcame him only a few days ago, and now that he had found home again, these terrors faded.

He belonged and he did not want to leave.

"We have to get out of here!"

Why? He sucked in the air, eating in every smell and flavor that drifted in the pearly dunes. He didn't want to leave this heaven--who would? The air became deep with scent and wind, so that he was gasping in order to take it in, almost wrestling for its intake.

The sun glazed over like a sugary sweet, and he could feel himself sinking in the cool powder that could both caress and sting.

"Ganon--"

You're drowning.

"I feel fine."

"GANON!"

You have to remember.

"Remember what...?"



"YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME."

Ganondorf's thoughts stuttered to a halt. The voice was unfamiliar yet even he could hear the inherent demand for respect and obedience.

"YOU'RE GOING TO DROWN."


**********


Ganondorf awoke, coughing and sputtering in shock, and had awakened only early enough to watch Link sink into the dark water's depths.

Ganondorf could only immediately sense that there was water up to his neck, that this water was steadily rising, and that his head was scraping against the serrated ceiling of the cave. He heard furious gurgles bubbling up to the surface, and instinctively he knew this had to earn his attention first. Without hesitation, he was engulfed by the black lake, and he dove in search of the river's bed.

There was no sound but the surrounding sighs of running water, and so for a time Ganondorf merely drifted. His searching would be blind in this perpetual darkness.

Why are you trying to save him?

Pest, he thought. He concentrated on trying to hear the boy out--if only he could hear a hint of panic or breathing--

He tried to kill you just today, and now you are saving him?

Ganondorf, drifting lifelessly at the river's floor, felt a brief but obvious touch. As he grabbed, groped, and frantically tore through the water in search of the body he just felt, he gave the voice a stern reply.

He did try to kill me he acknowledged, and I am certainly going to discuss the issue with him. We'll have a grand talk about it--but I need him alive to do that.

Ganondorf grappled briefly with the body, tugging on its stubbornly cemented limbs. He couldn't find exactly what was holding so fast to the boy, and so his hand continued its desperate untangling. There was a snag, Ganondorf could feel it--the boy's flailing was sagging as he lost air and consciousness--and finally Ganondorf found the trap latched at the boy's ankle.

It was a hand.

But it slipped away like a ghostly eel, gliding into the distant and unfamiliar shadows.

Ganondorf did not have time to feel fear or confusion now, and so with his new baggage, he careened back to the dreary surface of the water. No longer did he have to think; his mind had shut down in self defense, and now his body worked independently, reacting through instinct and automation. His acts were reduced to mechanical processes, and he was barely aware of the reality before him: he was floating in this infinitely expansive water, gripping an unconscious and barely breathing (breathing at all?) boy, swimming in hopes of finding an open space. Had he thought at all, he would have let his imagination carry out this haunting possibility--he had not seen things, and there was someone else in this water, perhaps right below him, perhaps even now touching him without him realizing it. Had he thought of this, he would have panicked and his only chance to survive would have faded.

But Ganondorf had trained in reigning in wandering thoughts.

The cold of the water was settling into his bones and he shivered. He waded onward, setting his sights on a sliver of light, and upon finding that Link's body was a trouble to move, he flung the heavy, dripping sack of life over his shoulder, wincing at the strain of his broken arm. The glimpse of light was in fact a distant gap in the cave's mouth, rushing forth water into the open earth, and he clumsily drifted for it. He floated along the rushing current, gripping the serrated ceiling and clawing himself into a proper direction with his only useful arm.

He couldn't tell he was smiling to himself, nearly beaming with pride. That wasn't difficult at all. I'm practically made for this sort of thing.

He nearly missed the bristle and throaty rush that erupted behind him, bubbling and gasping faintly like a floundering fish. He was so concentrated on the light ahead and the boy over his shoulder that the noise seemed, at first, inconsequential.

But then it emerged and breathed from behind him, a musky, dead smell overcoming him. Ganondorf stopped dead, arm throbbing and bleeding, hair standing on end. No method could possibly predict the thing's form or specie. It did not sound like any beast or man he had ever known, and the smell--oh gods, the smell!--was suffocating and unidentifiable. Ganondorf could only stand, feeling the absent hairs and breaths at his back.

For a good five minutes, Ganondorf waited for it to leave or attack, but instead it waited for him, floating and stinking and, from what he could feel, he was sure it was smiling. He wondered absently if it was another memory that had lost its way, but for a memory, it felt excruciatingly empty and void. It had nothing to tell him. It was only patiently observing him as he panicked and thought his actions through.

At last, Ganondorf broke away, taking in a stubborn breath and plunging into the light. He did not care if it was going to chase him, but he could not stay in this water any longer. These waters were confusing him, stealing from him. He nearly expected the beast to pursue, but instead it faded back into obscurity, not because it had given up, but because it had other plans.

**********

Ganondorf rather unceremoniously crawled from the river's bank and threw Link's body to the ground. Ganondorf had, through the entire fiasco, lost the inclination to treat this boy with much politeness.

Ganondorf gasped and bled profusely, but did not waste time. He went to Link's side, parting the tangled, wet locks from his face, and evaluated his case. He made a quick reading of the Hylian's heartbeat and found it steady. This assured him that, at the very least, there was life still ticking.

Ganondorf at first gave Link a gentle backhand to stir him awake, but Ganondorf then recalled that, in fact, such restraint was not necessary. Almost too eagerly, Ganondorf resorted to a stern slap, and thus the boy stirred and gurgled. The water swimming in Link's lungs spewed from his mouth, and finally he coughed and shook to life.

Link's milky eyes opened needlessly and wandered about, as if they could see what was above him. The boy spoke up quietly, his voice raw from suffocation and exhaustion. "Are you there?"

Ganondorf unhappily harrumphed. "I suppose I am."

Link took this into consideration. "You saved my life."

"So?" Ganondorf responded with a violent distaste.

"He said you wouldn't."

Ganondorf felt acutely defeated, and he wasn't sure why, so he kept his reply dull in order to end this exchange. "Well, he was wrong then, wasn't he?"

Link gave a smirk and Ganondorf wished he could wipe it from his face. Ganondorf wished he had the strength to tell Link that he didn't deserve it and saving him was more a logical choice than one made out of affection.

"Quit smiling or I'll hit you again," Ganondorf bitterly threatened.

"Do you plan to take advantage of this?" Link rolled his head lifelessly, apathetic to the fate bestowed upon him.

"You sure as hell did when I was in this position," the Gerudo angrily retaliated, using his only good arm to grab at the boy's collar. "So let's talk about it, huh?"

Link did not appear to feel threatened and wearily laughed. "Is that the only reason you saved me? To torture me for a while?"

Crunch. Link's smile vanished from his expression and was replaced by a constrained grimace.

Ganondorf coyly hissed, "Yeah, because it's much more fun to hurt you myself."

Crick-crack-crunch.

Link emitted a pitiful cry, but helplessly consented as his wrist was forcibly crushed and snapped.

"I don't want to know what sort of mental problems made you do what you did to me," Ganondorf calmly explained, reveling in the sounds of breaking bones and the whimpering boy, "but I'm not the sort who puts up with that garbage. I'm going to let you live this time--and I can't guarantee there'll be a next time."

Ganondorf stood up, stepped over the retching body, and looked out over the horizon with no real purpose in mind.

The silence that followed was just as hurtful as it was pleasant. Ganondorf momentarily considered what he felt, but could only conclude that he was tired. Very, very tired--and as such, he had lost his enthusiasm for his normal tastes. Link was still tossing and groaning, but Ganondorf had long since forgotten and tired of the torture. Now he regretted breaking the boy's wrist, if only because the racket the victim was making was incredibly tedious and annoying.

Tearfully but not without venom, Link sputtered at Ganon's back, "So, what are you going to do? Leave me to die?"

Ganondorf at first did not dignify the inquiry with an answer. The Gerudo searched for his horse, who had yet again shown its undying loyalty by pursuing his steps. Link's question rolled about in his head--Ganondorf had seriously considered this possibility of committing the irony--but he grabbed his horse's reins and reeled the beast into their circle.

"I would," Ganondorf answered simply, stooping down and roughly pulling Link to his feet, "but I have use for you yet."

The Gerudo man was feeling a bit dizzy, and he knew his bleeding was not to blame. After freezing and reexamining himself, Ganondorf realized something was terribly wrong.

Link wavered under his iron grip. "...Um... Are you...?"

Ganondorf hastily cut him off and hoisted his young master onto the horse. "I need you to do me a favor," he told him gruffly.

Link was now a bit confused, but was in no position to argue. Ganondorf felt his head exploding with rash noises and pains, and as everything grew distant, he knew he was going to faint sooner or later. To be unconscious now was not useful at all--Link would be unable to travel with him, and if Ganondorf attempted to ride, he'd surely fall off.

"Are you ready?"

Link panicked. "For what? No, I'm not!"

"Shut up and listen to me. I want you to ride as hard as you can, as far as you can go. When or if anyone finds you, regardless of who it is, give yourself up and direct them back here."

"B-but... Aren't you--?"

"I'm staying here," Ganondorf calmly instructed. "I'll be fine. Tell them that I'm at the river bank of an empty field of rock; I suppose they'll know where that is. I'll be pretty noticeable all the same."

"G-Ganon, there isn't any village from here for miles, no one will ever--"

"Then we'll just have to depend on a little luck."

"I c-can't--" Link kept giving his this shell-shocked look, his face deathly pale and his injured body trembling. He was doing well in appearing pathetic, but the whimpering was not met with any impressed words.

"Don't be a ditz. Of course you can do this. It's very simple. I even have you pointed in the right direction."

Oh goddesses, he was short of breath, he couldn’t breathe in anything but frivolous gasps—

An old, familiar friend was knocking.

“Ganon?” Link wearily inquired, hearing the weakness in Ganondorf’s inhales.

"Boy," Ganon wheezed, a tickle starting from his head and spilling down over the rest of his body. "I'm going to lay down now. You go on."

Link looked at him as though he had gone insane. "What? Why? "

"Never mind--get on already!" Ganondorf ordered, giving his horse a weak shove. Link frantically addressed him and the horse teetered with its rider's hesitation.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I'm counting on you--now GO!"

He watched as Link gave into the plan, his last resort fading beyond sight. With Link gone, Ganondorf stiffly lay down on his side, straightening his limbs in preparation for the impending attack.

Ganondorf, before his consciousness slipped away with the gagging of his nerves, wondered why this had returned so suddenly. He hadn't had an epilepsy in years, after all... It didn't make any sense, really, that this would assault him so suddenly. Ganondorf mentally cursed and hoped it would go over quickly.

It was a terrible feeling, a nervous twitch that consumed every piece of him from head to toe. He tried to breathe slowly and in rhythm, but to his horror he could not control the spasms, and his head started to ache. Everything fell away, ceasing to be relevant to the sudden shaking of his flesh, and in a spontaneous heave, his body split. His back struck the ground, saliva drowned him with every impulsive gasp for air, his muscles straining, loosening, and battering the earth below him.

His eyes rolled into the back of his skull. He could see and hear nothing. All he could sense was a horrible chill and a familiar sense of helplessness. Everything pulled back, everything froze, until his spine arched and paralyzed every joint in his frame.

He was stuck, shaking, lost, gone…

He remembered nothing after that, and the next thing he could sense was the shocking scent of fire and the tender embrace of wool.

**********

"Sir..."

The men stood side by side, the tent cloth bowing overhead, fires flickering around them. The old man they confronted eyeballed them knowingly as the head of the group stepped forward to explain.

"You were right, Priest. Two men were found--one a foreigner, the other a Hylian."

"How are they?" the priest asked.

"The Hylian acquired a bit of shock from a stomach wound, and has a broken bone here and there at his hand, but otherwise he will be fine. The foreigner is in very bad shape. Quite battered... He has not come to consciousness yet, has broken bones, and I have reason to believe that when I found him, he was undergoing an epilepsy."

"What is the Hylian's story?"

"He says they were attacked by bandits--as you said he would."

The priest nodded. So his prophecy had proved correct... "Keep a close eye on them both, and take care of them well."

"By the way," the man interjected smoothly, "it appears that the Hylian does not know of the habitual epilepsies his foreign partner seems to be undergoing..."

"That is their business."

The leader bowed respectfully. "I thought so."

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