Lethe

Link had some time alone the next day, for which he was thankful. Ganondorf suffered a hangover and some memory loss (he remembered nothing of the previous night, or at least claimed to), so he was firmly in bed and unwilling to leave its comfort.

Link was especially relieved to find that Ganondorf would not have to witness the tantrum being thrown by the wife of the strange foreign man. She was muttering to herself, fretting and eying the arrival of the Gerudos with intense disdain. Once she found Link, she immediately pounced for the chance to fume in someone's presence.

"It's terrible," she growled.

"What?"

"'They' are everywhere."

Link cocked his head. "Excuse me... Who are 'they,' exactly?"

"Well, you know," she whispered secretively. "'Them.' The Gerudos."

Link was baffled. "You are aware this whole event is meant for them...?"

The woman made a reluctant sigh of agreement, but did not drop her attitude. "I know," she resigned, "but I thought there would just be a few of them. Now, they're everywhere... " She huffed with disgust. "They're like rats."

Link had to stand and gawk for quite a while before convincing himself to step away. He mumbled a lame excuse and sent her on her way, fetching a drink and looking for Zelda. At least she would distract him from the burning cloud of emotion that was dawning upon him.

Link was, though Ganondorf had not learned it yet, a part of the Gerudo tribe. It was not through race or blood, of course, but Link had brushes with Malati and Nabooru during his initial adventure. The two were high enough in the hierarchy for Link to make a comfortable place for himself. To have a sort of home, after all, was nice when Link was unable to return to the Kokiri tribe. He couldn't stay with the Kokiri forever, and Link was happy to have a piece of the world to settle into. The Gerudos as a whole grew more accepting of his presence over time, but even when they weren't so welcoming, Malati and Nabooru were always good company. He had spent so much of his life in that desert, with those women, that he knew the language and culture inside out, and at times, he felt himself forgetting the tribe from which he came. To move from forest to desert was no easy task, but Link felt in himself a natural ease in the solitude of the sand dunes. It was as though that was where he really belonged.

Link was so thoroughly cultually converted that he would at times forget who he was, and in those moments, he felt truly happy. He was never content with the person he was, and so the desert provided means to hide himself and pretend to be someone else. Link had buried everything in the desolation of the Gerudo's land--his identity, his place, his tribe, his race, and his memories were instantly forsaken upon his integration with the desert people.

But Link had moved on since then.

He reminded himself that the woman simply didn't know who he was, and couldn't possibly understand how offended he was by her words.

--

The Gerudo women found him first, however, and Nabooru ushered him to the side.

"Link, we have something for you." Nabooru handed a small pouch.

"What is this?" Link rounded his fingers over the small pocket of cloth, feeling the distinct sharpness of rupees.

Nabooru and Malati remained cold as Nabooru explained, "It is compensation."

"For what?" Link asked.

"We understand that having Ganondorf's company is not your choice. We have decided to give you some things to ease the burden of supporting him."

"How much is it?"

"One thousand rupees should do you well for now," Nabooru told him.

Link looked shocked. "Oh, no, that's far too much--"

"Link," Malati interrupted patiently. "Bring him back here, and to our corridors. You are going to require some planning and supplies."

"You're going to help me?"

"Of course," Malati scoffed. "And why wouldn't we?"

"I assumed you would... Distance yourself." Link's face was nearly twinged with worry, but it was well disguised. "You see... He was not happy last night."

"This has nothing to do with him," Malati sternly clarified. "We are doing this for you."

*********

"You want me to what?"

"Aye, calm down--"

The meeting was quickly going downhill upon Link's abrupt suggestion. The Gerudo women had thus far made few contributions, for Link had clearly been thinking through his plans in his spare time.

"You're taking whatever Din told you far too seriously," Ganondorf accused irately. "I told you this before: I am not your slave."

"I'm not saying you are," Link sighed. "Could I just explain this to you?"

Ganondorf sat back and folded his arms crossly.

"Look... Tomorrow, we head northwest. There are several villages out in that direction, and we'll likely be stopping at a few of them. The last thing either of us will need is for the village to recognize you. If you come as a traveling partner, people are going to pay attention to you, ask questions about you--you are going to induce curiosity. But, if you come as a servant instead--"

Ganondorf huffed. He could not believe this was happening to him.

Link anxiously finished his idea before Ganondorf could blow it off completely. "--People won't bother you! They never mind where servants come from; they mostly ignore them completely! I know you aren't looking forward to interrogations, so in this way, you would be just as good as invisible."

"Won't people think it's a little stange for you to have a servant twice your own size?" Ganondorf skeptically inquired.

"If you cooperate, in certain respects, I may be able to make it more believeable for them."

Ganondorf was still largely unmoved by Link's logic.

Link pleadingly urged, "It won't be bad."

Ganondorf did not know how to respond to this situation at all. Link had been trying to convince him that playing the part of a slave would benefit him in their travels, and though Ganondorf understood his points, there was a grave reluctance to go through with it. Ganondorf had already grown disconcerted by the amount of pride he had to forfeit, and pretending to be a slave was approaching humiliation. Ganondorf was ready to fight this option off to the death, but there was an annoying part of him that was willing to give in. He did not want to do it, but there was great incentive to admit defeat and go along with the plan, for, as Ganondorf began to realize, he was too exhausted to bother fighting it. He was tired of struggling against the inevitable and the inane, and as his energy expired, he became more flexible.

Ganondorf's mind and body were both suffering from an acute exhaustion he never knew before, and this fatigue was making him increasingly unwilling to resist. With a jaded grumble, Ganondorf submitted his decision-making, accepting that for now, a dose of humility would save him some trouble.

Ganondorf irritably scratched his head. "Whatever," he finally responded listlessly.

Link sighed with relief. "All right, then. That's settled."

Ganondorf did not pay much attention to the rest of the meeting. The three were discussing tomorrow's journey, and he did not care for travel-speak. He spent his time staring into the nearby fire, lazily admiring the flames and their eternal dance. He nearly dozed off and did not hear the two Gerudo women tell him they had found some clothing that he would be able to use. He sleepily nodded in response to their talking before he knew what was going on.

They continued speaking for a bit, and he felt everything tune out as he leaned into his hand and distantly gazed into the fireplace. Resting felt wonderful, and for a mere second, he had fallen asleep in the chair.

Nabooru had, however, walked to his back and withdrawn a knife. When the knife made its move, he jerked awake in shock, and after a moment turned around to see her wielding the hanful of his hair. He was at first baffled by her erratic assault, but she smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he ogled her.

"Congratulations," she smirked, waving the sliced chunk of hair in her hand and ruffling the now short tuft of red hair on his head. "You're a Hylian slave."

The three chatted by the fire, and Nabooru continued wittling away at his locks with the blunt blade. They conversed while she groomed him, speaking of him as though he were a piece of furniture, but he was too tired to mind it. They were merely preparing him for the part, though he got the sense that they were enjoying it too much.

Before the two women sent them off with clothing and supplies, Nabooru made the final touch--the sure mark of an indentured servant: two braids, parallel along his left temple.

Link was warbling on the way back, happily recounting the items they received. "At last, you seem to be showing some value," he joked, giving his pouch of rupees a playful toss in the air. "It was really about time, after all this trouble..."

Ganondorf was becoming increasingly apathetic--so apathetic that he almost didn't notice that a woman came out of nowhere and was screaming in Link's direction. Fortunately, Ganondorf was cloaked as they were walking into the alleyway, so even when the woman approached, she did not happen to see the Gerudo man.

"Link, is that you?"

She unleashed a merciless squeal of joy and before Ganondorf could blink, she was dangling by Link's neck.

"I haven't seen you in so long!" she exclaimed, embracing him and laughing with joy.

Ganondorf was about to turn and ignore the exchange, but something about their interaction dispelled his initial disregard. There were a few things that came across as odd: for one thing, the woman was taller and clearly older than Link, and though the difference was not significant, it still warped the perception of their relationship. The woman, as well, was too pretty--the degree of her beauty quickly disconcerted him.

Ganondorf also recognized a familiar response he had seen in men, when such men were responding to a certain type of woman. Link did not smile or reach for her, even as she kissed him and spoke fondly of him. Ganondorf recognized this attitude indeed, and the implications were eyebrow-raising.

"I've been gone a while," Link answered her quietly.

"How long have you been here? Why haven't you tried to contact me?" she pouted.

Link knew he had an audience, so he tried to move things along as fast as he could. He patiently removed her arms from his neck. "I've been a bit busy. I can probably see you tonight, though. Will you be around?"

The woman smiled broadly. "Of course. I'll be at the bar--maybe we can have a few drinks, if it isn't a problem."

Link tried to act natural, but was clearly trying to keep her from saying anything too incriminating. "All right," he insistently concluded.

After the woman parted, Ganondorf wondered whether he should speak. His will to resist the temptation was weak. "Who was that?" he asked, though he already knew.

"None of your business."

"Don't think I don't know," Ganon clucked. "I didn't know you liked older women."

"She's a friend," Link steamed. "I know her, all right? It's not like that."

Something dormant in the Gerudo clicked, and immediately, Ganondorf had ceased teasing and began to attack. The amusement had vanished, and now he wallowed in sourness "A wonderful 'friend,' I'm sure," Ganon mused bitterly, under his breath.

"What are you implying?"

"What do you think I'm implying?"

Link threw up his hands in defeat. "Why are you on the offensive all of the sudden? Are you mad at me? Have I done something?"

"I'm not mad at you," Ganondorf lamely replied.

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"Is this a subject you get touchy about?"

"Let's not."

"Do you want to know if I'm sleeping with her?" Link finally asked upfront.

Ganondorf let out a heavy sigh and decided to break it to him. "Link," he consoled, "if you were actually trying to conceal the fact that you are doing so, I must tell you, you did a very poor job of it."

Link looked shocked and missed the wryness of Ganondorf's observation completely. "...Really?"

Ganondorf mournfully shook his head started to walk. Link followed behind.

"It's... That obvious?"

Ganondorf still wouldn't reply, he was so bereaved by the boy's ignorance. Link got more anxious as the silence continued.

"How can you tell?"

"You were treating her like garbage," Ganondorf explained simply. "Men always treat the women they're sleeping with like garbage."

Though Ganondorf was being excessively cynical, he believed it wholeheartedly. Link mistakenly thought he had reverted back to humor. He laughed and fit the strap of his pack firmly at his shoulder. "Gods, you're such a virgin."

"I had a harem, you know," Ganondorf hastily corrected, taking the insult a bit too seriously. Fortunately, however, Link was no longer listening and did not notice Ganondorf's desperation.

**********

Ganondorf bolted upright with a shocked cry of pain.

He reeled, spun around, gasping at the sting blossoming in his left eye. He wasn't sure where he was for a moment, and in dealing with the pain, he tried to realign his thoughts again.

Ganondorf had gone back to his bed again in hopes of getting some sleep for the travel that would happen the next day. His sleep was rudely interrupted by the blow to the face that he couldn't immediately identify.

Then, Ganondorf remembered that Link's pain was his own. He groaned and uselessly nursed his face. Clearly, Link's night had not finished. Ganondorf stifled some unkind words, rolled out of bed, and hit the floor with his usual lack of gracefulness.

Ganondorf wondered what had come over Link these days, and lamented over his behavior as though he knew the boy his whole life. Link had apparently forgotten their connection and gone off to do something reckless, without regard for Ganondorf's suffering. He guessed it was a stern punch in the eye--he was not totally unfamiliar with such blows--and absently wondered whether his eye was going to share in Link's swelling as well. He winced, huffed, and decided that he shoud think about something else.

Unfortunately, there was little to think about. He was almost thankful for the familiar peck at the window.

"What, so you're here to bother me again?" he mumbled as he got back up onto his feet. "I should have known you would revive." The situation had become so normal that he spoke as if talking to an old (albeit pestering) friend. To his disappointment, as he approached the window, the crow fled. He realized, however, that this was to be expected after he had killed the last one. Whatever was sending the creatures was relentless in trying to earn his attention.

Ganondorf turned back to his bed once the crow flew away, but stopped short and emitted a stunted yelp of surprise.

There was a woman sitting on his bed--a woman who was, of all things, very much separated from her clothes. The woman was ogling him expectantly, sheets sprawled beneath her bare legs, head cocked like a critter with a piqued interest. Her eyes were so hideous and attentive that he had to look away and frantically recollect his thoughts.

He reviewed himself carefully between bewildered gasps. He didn't feel drunk, and he did not remember getting drunk. Neither did he recall feeling her in bed. Where did she come from?

"Who--do I---did we--?"

The woman just smiled. He didn't feel any physical evidence that he had done anything, and neither did he see anything in her. He allowed a tentative sigh of relief and pondered whether to get any closer. As the situation sat, he had no desire to get any nearer to the woman than he had to. Rather, he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room.

Her eyelids fluttered low over her dark eyes, a wicked smile crossing her face, dark hair curled about her ivory flesh. She laughed shallowly and spoke in a suspiciously sultry tone. "Do you really think he will forgive you?"

Ganondorf blinked and knew that this voice was the same one he had heard in his head. He was certain that this did not bode well. "--What exactly are you talking about?"

She smugly crossed her legs over the bed. "Do you think because you cut your hair and willingly humiliated yourself, that he will be kind to you?"

"I tell you what--that I never really gave a thought to."

"You're a liar. You're doing this to impress him. You want to show him that you can be just like him."

Ganondorf was getting weary of this being's constant and bizarre accusations. "That's possibly the most ridiculous thing I've heard. I'm doing this so I won't get killed."

"He is not going to forgive you," she told him. "He's only kind to you now because he's afraid of being naked in front of his companions--he doesn't want them to see... He hates you; do you know that?"

"Of course I do."

"No you don't. You keep thinking he's growing onto you. You are--he's not."

Ganondorf spat. "You seem stuck on this idea that he and I are a good couple."

The woman responded by bursting into laughter. "Hardly," she snickered. "If such a thing were attempted, he would kill you quite quickly. He's very personal about his hatred. It's part of who he is."

"And who is he, if you don't mind me asking?"

The smile on her face vanished, and a distinct shiver traveled up his spine as he watched her expression turn to a distant, looming dread. "He is..." She paused, breathed in sharply, and dug her fingers into the sheets. "Everything that makes you afraid."

Her words paralyzed him for a full minute before a set of feet loudly fumbled outside and the door was swung open. Ganondorf jumped at the clatter, and for a second, he let his eyes stray from the woman to see what was happening.

Link crashed through the doorway, bellowing cheerfully, "Hey, you old slug! Get over here!"

Ganondorf saw that Link was drunk, and so he turned back to the bed. There was no one to be found, however. The woman had disappeared.

Link repeated himself crossly. "Did you hear me, sir? Come along! I have a gift."

Ganondorf remorsefully shook his head and gave into the order. He saw that Link's eye was bruised, and the sting at his own face reawakened. As Link happily rummaged through his things, Ganondorf bitterly badgered him, "You got hurt."

"Hmm?"

"Your eye."

"Oh, that?" Link sounded amused by Ganondorf's seriousness. "Oh, come on--what'd you expect? I went to bar. It's no tea party. I got in a tussle, that's all."

"Why?" Ganon asked in exasperation.

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

Ganondorf suddenly felt as though he was in the presence of some sort of savage, uncivilized tribe. Men, he relented. "Did you happen to forget that it hurts?"

"What?" It took Link some time to comprehend his meaning. Ganondorf didn't know that Link was one to drink so heavily, but he might as well have suspected it. Link had been in the army, after all. After Link overcame the alcohol's fog, a faint light of understanding emerged. "Oh. Right. Forgot about that quirk... But it isn't that bad, is it? It nary hurts but a tickle--"

"May I remind you: you are drunk and I am not."

Link snorted. "Well, I can fix that." Link revealed the bottles of liquor he had stowed. "Just promise me you won't be depressing like you were last night."

They began to drink together, and although the gesture was a bit out of place considering their relationship, Ganondorf was just glad that he didn't have to deal with hallucinations for the moment.

"--Wait, what do you mean 'last night'?"

**********

Ganondorf could not stop thinking about the woman's words as they drinked together. Ganondorf was not surprised or disturbed by the notion that Link hated him. This was to be expected--indeed, if it were different, he would be worried. This made things more complex in the end, however. It was Link's character to veil his hatred and play this facade of tolerance. Link was to hate, but not to show it.

But was Link to be feared? Obviously, the woman believed so. Ganondorf couldn't understand why. Link seemed harmless enough, though at times a bit rough around the edges. Even in his worst mood, though, he didn't seem capable of real cruelty. He was Link, after all--it wasn't a part of his character to be wicked.

Ganondorf wondered absently if he was placing too much value into this system of characterization. Link was supposed to be a number of things, for he played a part in a grand legend. Ganondorf was wary of these roles and places, and it was the only law he recognized. The villain and the hero and the ways they interact were sacraments to him.

Link was humming joyfully and opening another bottle of liquor. Ganondorf was getting irritated with the ease in which Link was breaking this sacrament. Drinking together, though a friendly gesture, was an act of comradeship. Why was Link so willing to engage in this? Link had been avoiding the even graver sin of eating with him, for eating together was one of the most intimate of social institutions, reserved for family, the married, and the deepest of friends or respected acquaintances. Ganondorf did not expect Link to eat with him. But why was Link comfortable exchanging drinks?

Ganondorf gave up these thoughts in exchange for the luxury of casual conversation.

Under the influence of alcohol, neither of them held back nor concentrated on the inanities of their hatred for each other. Instead, they dwelled on the plain things--although, as they soon realized, this topic ran dry quickly. The two did not have normal lives, and it was difficult to speak on anything without intermingling their fateful clash.

The two were getting more comfortable. They may have not been friends, and they were both aware that such a thing was and always would be impossible. But despite this fate, they had another acute awareness: they both silently pondered whether, in a different world and time, friendship would have been possible. They spoke freely as the alcohol swelled in their heads, and found themselves connecting in unexpected ways. They were more similar than they would have liked to admit.

For all of their work to fight against each other, they were both stubborn, cynical, and worn down.

Ganondorf rediscovered a question in his head and decided that it was an opportune moment to ask. "So, are you going to tell me how you blinded yourself or not?"

Link did not respond for a moment, taking another swig of his ale and mulling over the possibilities. Before Ganondorf could ask again, Link laughed to himself. "It was so..." He paused and snorted. "Ridiculous."

"What was?"

Link disregarded the question and softly snickered. "I was in the war, back then. I went to bed just fine, I'll have you know, but that morning... I woke up and couldn't see a thing. I wasn't scared or confused or angry--it made so much sense to me then. I woke up and felt everything that had made me miserable vanish: I woke up blind and I just laid there and smiled. It was like a burden had been lifted, and I couldn't have been more thrilled. People acted sorry towards me when they found out--they had pity on me and believed it was a terrible tragedy, but I knew the truth. I felt relieved. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was complete."

The words rolled senselessly inside Ganondorf's head and he subconsciously shivered. "Why?"

"I realized that I was pretending to be someone I wasn't. That's when I realized I wasn't the Hero."

"You speak of it like a blessing."

"Senses are what make us feel pain, Ganondorf," Link explained dispassionately. "If you can't feel anything, you can't be hurt."

"You're that terrified of seeing?"

Link did not respond and simply became lost in his drinking.

After a few hours, Ganondorf became weary of his company, and Link was reaching the point at which he couldn't drink anymore. Ganondorf thought that the visit would only last an hour, but the chances of Link leaving grew slimmer. The prospect was not good.

"Aren't you going back to the castle?" Ganondorf questioned desperately.

"What, like this?" Link pointed to his bruised face, and in general, his drunken demeanor. "And make the Princess throw a fit? No good at all."

Ganondorf didn't understand. "But... Where are going, then?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"This is my room."

Link scoffed and disregarded the defensiveness in Ganondorf's tone. "And I paid for it. Your point?"

"There's only one bed."

"You can sleep on the floor."

"I could, but I'm not going to."

"Well then." Link smirked at the man's attempts to bicker. "If you want to sleep with me that badly, come out and say it."

"Not everybody wants to sleep with you," Ganondorf snarled in return.

Link was startled by the ferocity in his voice and spoke gently in Gerudo. "Calm down. I was kidding."

"You conceited--"

Link interrupted swiftly and pretended not to hear his complaint. "Honestly, in the war, I bunked with other men--"

Ganondorf was brooding suddenly, and before he could stop himself, he blurted aloud his worry. "Are you sleeping with Nabooru?"

Link stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"You're friends with her."

Link sputtered. "I've never touched her. She's my captain."

"I'm glad."

"Do you like her?" Link asked.

Ganondorf spat dismissively. "No. Never did. In fact, I always hated her. How about Malati? Have you bedded her yet?"

"I don't have to talk to you about this," Link objected.

"So you did?"

"I didn't say that. I'm saying that you need to shut your mouth."

"Whatever."

Link grimaced and shook his head in his direction. "You sure act funny when you're drunk."

"That's the idea, isn't it?"

In the end, Ganondorf forgot about the argument and they were both too drunk to care.

--

They were lying on the bed, backs turned to each other, dozing silently. There was an occasional toss or turn, but otherwise they were sound.

Ganondorf's mind was wandering, and as he lay on his side, his eyes strayed to the back of his hands. He didn't notice anything upon his first glance, but a thought emerged. He stared and stared, but for all of his effort, he couldn't see evidence of his Triforce reacting to Link's presence.

Ganondorf spoke aloud, flatly noting, "My Triforce is not resonating."

"What of it?" Link asked irritably, shuffling from grogginess.

Ganondorf continued to stare emptily at the back of his hand. "Shouldn't it be reacting to your Triforce of Courage?"

For a moment, Link chose not to respond, and they both lay silent.

"Link?" Ganon goaded.

"Is it really that hard to figure out?" Link asked, letting in a sleepy breath of air and turning over in his doze. After receiving no answer, Link sighed and explained, "I don't have the Triforce anymore."

Ganondorf immediately sat upright. "W-what?"

"Lay down; relax; get some sleep," Link demanded wearily. "It is not important."

"It's... It's very important!" Ganondorf sputtered. He couldn't believe this, and could especially not accept Link's resignation to this horrible fate. "How can one simply lose--"

"For once in your life, use common logic," Link grumpily snarled, apparently not in the mood for the topic. The boy winced at the pains racking his temple.

Ganondorf, defeated, laid down onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. The alcohol was clogging his normal thought processes, so it took several more minutes than it normally would have to come to his conclusion. "The Triforce left you?"

"Best thing that ever happened to me," Link droned. "When I went to war, I had to leave Hyrule's borders. They day I woke up blind... I realized the Triforce left, too. The elements that defined me vanished with all of my courage."

"You became a coward?"

"In more ways than one," Link nodded sleepily. "Now please, stop--we both need our sleep."

Ganondorf couldn't resolve these rapid thoughts in his mind, because logically, his worries made no sense. Link had lost the Triforce, but this should be an advantage for him, not a thing to mull over in agitation. At the same time, however, Ganondorf could not abandon this feeling that the world had gone terribly awry, and that he wanted it to be normal. His existence had been comfortably formulaic for years--he had fought Link, attempted to take over Hyrule, kidnapped Zelda to bait the boy...

He had, despite its inevitable destination of failure, grown fond of this pattern and wanted to continue it. It was fantastic fairy tale, a drama, a story like the old legends he had read when he was young. It had a hero, a villain, a princess, a forsaken land, a forgotten magic. And although Ganondorf did not understand these things, something in his wicked, empty head desired it. He wanted this to go on, but now that he had woken up, he found the story was not going as it was supposed to.

He stared at Link intensely for a moment as the boy slept, trying to sort these thoughts and feelings, but was unable to reach any conclusions. The boy was supposed to be the Hero, but this broken, blind, frustrated man could not be the Hero. He was startled upon realizing that he had not seen Link at all--this was a stranger to him. He had only seen faint glimpses of the Hero, only to watch them crowded out by this boy's impatience and anger.

If this boy was not the Hero, did he hate him? Ganondorf shook. He had felt his grasp on hating the boy slip as of late, and it worried him. He had always maintained a balance of his hate and admiration--both hating and admiring the talents so deeply ingrained in this boy. But now...

Ganondorf wanted to things to be as they once were very suddenly and passionately. He did not like these progressions--he did not like these changes, even though these changes were destroying his enemy. With a drunken tremor, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling again, hoping to sleep, hoping to forget he had ever thought about this. Even in the midst of his drowsiness, his eyebrows stitched.

Ganondorf's disquieted mind was deeply confused.

**********

Ganondorf woke up with a start, his sleep rudely interrupted by a scream of anger. He twisted, momentarily forgetting where he was, and was unable to identify what creature was unleashing such a terrible cry.

"You bastard!"

Ganondorf sat up, cleared his head with a moment's stillness, then recognized the voice. He squinted in the dark--it was late and the night was deep. He could barely see anything but a faint glitter of gold. Whether it was Link's hair or jewelry, he couldn't tell, but he knew the color and its owner.

"Link?" he queried hesitantly, groping the dark uselessly. He couldn't tell what was happening to the boy.

Link was breathing hard, hissing like an enraged serpent, and shouting foully at the top of his lungs. "You bastard! What did you do to her? YOU BASTARD!"

"Link, what are you--"

Ganondorf was quickly shot down by a barrage of ear-splitting threats and curses. He groaned, his hands finding Link sitting up in bed, hyperventilating and shaking. His eyes were wide open, glossy with fear. Ganondorf relaxed once he realized what was happening. Link was having a night terror.

"Boy, wake up," he impatiently prodded, shaking the boy sternly. It did not phase him, and the shrieking continued. Ganondorf couldn't let this go on much longer, lest someone overhear it.

But with a choke and tense whimper, Link went silent on his own accord. Ganondorf thought he might lay down now that the tantrum was over, but instead Link stared out into nothing, frozen still. Ganondorf tried to push him, but found Link utterly paralyzed. His body was stiff, shaking, and murmuring.

Ganondorf was so tired that he didn't want to deal with this emerging panic attack, so he decided to let it alone and go back to sleep. He absently wondered who Link was scolding so harshly in his dream, but he swiftly forgot about it.

**********

Oh goddesses.

What did you do?

What happened to her?

You bastard, what did you do?

There's so much blood.

**********

Maybe it was the hangover, but Ganondorf made a vow the next morning as they packed their things. He stood close to his horse's narrow face, feeling its warmth breath against the new clothes at his chest. He had shed the uncomfortable warrior garb--he figured he would not need it. He did not expect to be fighting.

Everything was irritating, noisy, and grating against his sensitive mind. He drank water in an attempt to wash out the stale aftertaste of alcohol, but to little avail. And among these discombobulating conditions and symptoms, he made a strange promise to himself. It was something he never thought he would consent to, but as the warnings had come, he believed it was necessary.

If he hoped to live, he would have to blindly follow every of Link's commands. Link knew more about this world than he did, and Link also had other potencies (the ability to destroy him being one of them). So, with no other reasonable choice, Ganondorf decided to make his place beneath the enemy's wing. There were worse places to be. Without means to protect himself, he needed a trustworthy ally, and in Hyrule, Ganondorf knew his chances of finding another willing person were slim.

If he could subdue and calm this new master, as he would need to, he would not have to face this master's apparently newfound rage. Link was not a safe master, but Ganondorf knew that he was also a capable one.

The air was fresh that morning, and despite his illness, he felt good to be free of the city's restraints. They hadn't left the town quite yet, but the buildings grew less intimidating and influential. The sheer aesthetics of the stone barriers and towers disappeared, overcome by the soulful beauty that faintly rang out in the horizon.

Link was uttering requests, and according to his vow, Ganondorf obeyed silently and swiftly. Link was pleasantly surprised by this arising trait. "You're strangely compliant today," he noted. "Is there something you want?"

Ganondorf tried not to be offended by Link's assumption that he was trying to garner a favor. "No."

"Very well, then," Link sighed. "Is there anything else you need before we leave?"

Ganondorf had nothing of value to begin with, and told Link so. The Gerudo women hovered briefly over them, but the visit was short, and so the journey begun, with no certainty as to what they would meet.

"If you don't mind me asking: where are we going?"

Link gave him an impatient look. "Weren't you listening the other night?"

"Honestly? No."

"You should really pay attention," Link scolded crossly. "You'll be guiding me, after all. Do you remember the path you found me on?"

"Yes."

"We're re-tracing in that direction, mostly. Northwest of here, after a several day's worth of traveling, there's a village where I've been living. I don't know why Din gave you to me, but until we figure out what to do with you, I assume we just head there for now."

This seemed practical. He didn't question it and let the sweet scent of grass overwhelm his senses.

**********

Ganondorf found Link sleepwalking that night, and he watched as Link dozed and trekked about, murmuring under his breath in a senseless tongue. Ganondorf recalled that first night they met, and the fear he felt upon seeing Link stand over him in the night.

Now, he understood the drifting that had occurred. Link was not contemplating his death--he was merely a wanderer in the evening, a person with a body and soul too disturbed to lie still in his rest. There were whispers passing Link's sleeping lips of men's drained faces and the meaningless slaughter of life. At times, Link sounded humorous, but these moments were overpowered by the gruesome swears and recollections of war.

Ganondorf was personally having a difficulty understanding Link's war trauma. The very concept of trauma was somewhat alien to him. Ganondorf had seen violence and death, and probably committed worse acts than the things Link merely had to witness, yet he did not have night terrors, panic attacks, or walk about in his sleep. The idea that war could terrify a soul, that it could permanently scar it, made no sense to him. He thought that even the most disturbing of experiences could be shrugged off. Ganondorf did so with most of his unpleasant memories, and he didn't understand Link's inability to do the same.

Unfairly perhaps, Ganondorf felt weary with Link's trauma. He wanted Link to drop it, get over it, and stop irritating him with the symptoms. If Link would only forget it, then Ganondorf was sure the situation would solve itself. Yet, the more sympathetic part of him tried to hold onto what he knew was the truth: it was not that simple.

The morning did not provide Ganondorf with any ease of mind. Link had ceased being benevolent and now took it upon himself to harass Ganon. The Gerudo, reminding himself of his personal vow, had to work even harder to hold back his tongue, and Link was making it increasingly difficult.

Link had no peers to impress, and so he forgot civilized conversation and barraged his new servant with his difficulties. The nightmares and trauma had only made Link more irritable and strained than usual, and in contradiction to normal social operations, he turned all of his troubles into personal attacks. He didn't complain about the deaths he witnessed--he instead incessantly complained about Ganondorf's lack of energy. No, it was not the fact that the war had stolen Link's childhood that made him the frustrated wretch he was--it was the fact that Ganondorf couldn't pick up the pace. Everything was Ganondorf's fault, and Link was sure to remind him of this every mile or so.

Ganondorf drowned what he could in the refreshing simmer that was the evergreen forest. The sunlight overhead gave the horizon an illusion of life, and accompanied with the quiet stirs of wind and birds, the woods dampened their tempers for the time being.

Ganondorf paused occasionally throughout the journey, but on the second day of travel at the peak of humidity, he broke out into a treacherous sweat and had to sit down. His blood steamed and trickled down his face like boiling sap, and his vision grew hazy.

After Ganon panted like a dog a good while, Link feigned concern and piped up. "Are you alright?"

The Gerudo huffed between breaths. "I'm... Fine..."

"You have so little stamina," Link accused for the umpteenth time.

Ganondorf did not have the energy to be offended and continued to gasp. "I'm not... As young... As you are..."

Link reluctantly agreed to this logic and fidgeted impatiently as he waited for Ganondorf to recover. Link got down from the horse after the wait seemed more imminent, and searched his belt for his flask of water. He found the perspiring leather pouch, also seeming to sweat from the unbearable heat, and held it above his head. With a measured dip, he allowed water to spill through the nozzle and into his mouth.

Ganondorf, watching this display, suddenly realized he was very thirsty. He longingly stared at, though did not dare ask for, the water dripping down the boy's chin in silver threads. He depended on Link's intuition to receive a drink, and luckily, Link was prepared. "Do you need some water?" he questioned. He walked over to Ganon's side, even before Ganon could reply. "Are you very hot?"

"Yes," Ganon answered, wondering why Link found it useful to get so close.

Link held the flask in his hands, turning his head slightly. "Where are you sitting?" he tested, inching the flask from his hands to imply he was to hand it over.

Ganondorf tapped his fingers and instructed him, "Right in front of you--"

Perhaps it was the density of Ganondorf's head that deafened his intuition, and that was why he didn't see it coming, but whatever the case, Link tossed the flask's contents into his face and Ganondorf burned and swore in response.

"What are you doing?" he sputtered, standing on his feet, cursing violently and wiping the dripping substance from his face. He coughed and eyed Link as though he must have gone mad.

Link was laughing at him, knowing that the man was merely the victim of a harmless prank, and furthermore a victim of Link's incapacity to realize some were not fortunate enough to have his sense of humor. "Aye, you feel better, don't you?"

Ganondorf was so appalled and embarrassed by the attack that he tried to save face by uttering the foulest Gerudo oaths he could, but this only made Link laugh harder. Ganondorf hadn't dealt with such a blatant assault on his dignity before, and so he was at a loss as to how to make the matter end. Without physical intimidation at his side, he could only helplessly berate his attacker, and just his luck, the attacker found his only resource of intimidation a joke.

"Why are you so flustered?" Link stabbed at him.

"I'm not flustered!" the man retorted, narrowly avoiding the inclination to scream. "G-gods, just give that to me--!"

Still soaked and fuming, Ganondorf tore the flask from Link's grasp and threw it to the ground. Link just raised an eyebrow as Ganondorf steamed past him. "Um... Overreacting, much, sir?"

"You're wasting water," Ganon lamely scolded, but by now his footsteps were growing faint.

"How am I wasting water? We're not in the desert; I can just refill it downhill here--"

Link realized Ganondorf was not listening, and paused to hear the Gerudo's foul words drifting away.

"Sir, where are you going?" Link yelled out, but to no avail. Ganondorf had lumbered off elsewhere in a disgruntled, unmanageable fit. Link puzzled over the fact that a toss of water had just toppled the Dark King. Like a tongue of flame kissed by a passing breeze, Ganondorf had petered out, and Link couldn't understand why.

Truth be told, there was a good deal contributing to Ganondorf's upset. His head buzzed furiously as he tried to counter the absurdity of his reaction with reason. He was tired, disrespected, and thirsty, and the water he had looked forward to intaking was instead spilled over him. It was an unfair taunting, he thought, that Link raised his hopes and then dashed them with a childish joke. It was strange that Link, who was in all honestly meaning no harm, was so easily perceived as a cruel, boorish predator who was happy to torture him.

Ganondorf was not one to appreciate such games, especially at his expense. He usually cloistered to keep himself safe from embarrassment, but now--gods, he hated the feeling, the feeling of not being given respect and being mocked. There was no cure for jeering, no cure for the debasement he felt at hearing it.

Ganondorf was panicked, ashamed of the ease in which he was taken advantage of and defeated, and these frustrations and fears gave way to anger.

Bite; bite like a cornered rat pursued by a hunter--

"Ganon--"

Link had found him, but only by chasing the shudders of leaves beneath the man's stormy feet. Ganondorf disregarded the dishonest pleas for forgiveness: they sounded raw and unshaped, as Link did not understand what he had offended and the apology came off as a facade. Link still chuckled beneath his breath, his voice not able to hide his lack of seriousness. Link thought the man was being silly, and no disguising of his voice could conceal this sentiment.

"Oh, come on, I didn't mean anything by it--"

"Leave me alone."

Ganondorf nearly stumbled in his blindness to where he was going, and glanced to the left of him. He found his foot hobbling on a loose boulder impressed into the mossy soil, and he discovered that where he headed opened up to a field of similarly-shaped and positioned stones. The earth dipped into a shallow valley alongside a cliff, with an endless landscape of talus and rock. The basin of the cliff was a field of sharp shards of pearly-gray stones. The chips provided a wobbly, uncertain, but useful means to lose Link. Ganondorf set out immediately to trace across the large, open field, and listened as Link struggled to do the same. The rocks would falter and cave in if not properly stood upon, for many were slate-shaped and lying on their edge, held in place only by the moist dirt beneath them. Their trekking made the noises of marble and glass shifting underfoot, and Link huffed in frustration. The terrain was confusing and shattered into pieces--he couldn't determine where it was safe to step without danger of slipping, and no stick or cane would make any sense of the hundreds of shards in front of him. Even Ganondorf did not experience particular ease in judging the firmness of the stones.

"Why do you have to be so disagreeable?" Link complained, making another agonizing step and testing its strength.

Ganondorf snorted, stopped, then turned on the boy. It was time to bite back. "You know, I'm curious as to what exactly you saw that makes you cry out in your sleep."

Link's steps ceased.

The poison in Ganon's voice gathered sharply. "So? Are you going to tell me?"

A darkness was glinting in Link's eyes now, a cloud that normally would have scared Ganondorf off, but now it didn't move him an inch. "That isn't any of your business," Link growled.

Ganondorf stepped closer, reveling in his chance to look down on the boy with an advantage on hand. He grinned sadistically, but anger still seethed in his heart, an anger that possessed him and deafened all of his instincts. "You know what I think? You see, I heard you crying out the other night--you were calling someone a 'bastard.' Who's the bastard, Link?"

Though Link was surprised that Ganondorf had overheard such sensitive information, his shock was quickly overcome by fury. Link's voice grew hushed and sour, so that his comment could not be mistaken for anything but a warning. "Do not test me."

"--You want to know my theory?" Ganondorf continued to barrage, smiling in his face, polishing his ego with the articulate harm he was causing. "I think you killed a girl and now you can't forgive yourself for it--you're the bastard, aren't you? Is that why you're so contemptuous all the time--?"

Their squabbles had, so far, been infantile and petty. They had shot insults here and there, but nothing had ever seriously inflamed any adult vengeance. But Link had abruptly abandoned the realm of childish bickering, and Ganondorf was not prepared for it.

Link had taken up Ganondorf's right arm--he had pounced like a cat, fingers gripping the limb like an earned prize. "The last time I had your arm," he hissed dangerously, "I was generous and did not break it."

This generosity ended, and even after his arm was shattered, it seemed that Link, too, had tired of his traveling partner. The pain spell triggered without warning, and Ganondorf narrowly escaped biting his tongue cleanly off. The pain was acute, and once it began to pierce his nerves, it wouldn't stop. He collapsed to the ground, coughing in his fierce shock and sudden terror. He was unable to move, paralyzed with the fiery pain and an unearthly chill of fear. Only a moment ago, this creature was a meek and playful lamb, and now--now--

Oh gods, he's going to kill me.

He trembled, tried to speak, but the overwhelming stabs of agony stole his air and tightened his throat. He could only make an empty, desperate gasp for mercy and release.

There were things Link could not tolerate, things that would only induce his worst temper, things that he only responded to through violence. Dusting up malicious memories was one of these crimes. Ganondorf had stirred awake the instincts that Link had neglected for ages, and in a sudden fervor at being reminded of this savage thirst, the ferocity Link depended on in battle boiled over once again.

Link did not verbalize anything beyond a confused order to "not speak that way" to him, and then there was only pain. His mercy had been spent. A flash of silver revealed Link's very serious intent to destroy him, but the resulting wound was due to sloppy aim. The knife buried into the Gerudo's shoulder, and pinned him still, forcing him to meet the basin of rubble. The blade was withdrawn, but his destroyer knew that the wound only worked to immobilize him.

Link began to break him piece by piece, and Ganondorf, shaking from the torture, prayed for a swift death.

**********

Ganondorf blinked and was sure he was dreaming. He was sitting up in the middle of total abyss, with only a nameless face staring back at him. He squinted, tried to converse with this face, but all it did was examine him with a mechanical curiosity. Ganondorf tried to protest its invasion, but then he realized that his punishment had not ended. Metal was crashing down on his skull, a buckle breaking over the bone until blood came. He jerked, but to his alarm found he was still sitting up and this face was still watching him. His hand searched the back of his head where the splitting pains tore open his scalp, ripping hair and drawing an endless flow of blood. He felt the crimson flow over his fingers, and his head began to throb. He was being broken, crushed steadily, and his skull split with fracture after fracture as the belt buckle pummeled it. Blood was branching out over his face like veins as it poured from the back of his scalp, the hot liquid dripping and spilling with no remorse or possible end.

He was still hallucinating in the midst of this mind-boggling pain, but the face had vanished, leaving behind words that he could only barely hear over the clatter of metal against bone.

I told you not to trust him.

He was confused, angry, this beating becoming the death of him. The fiery pain at his shoulder kept him still and prostrate, and the boy still beat him savagely. Without any other hope, he tried to stay quiet, knowing he may receive instructions on how to earn some pity or restraint.

“Slave! Dog!”

The rubble on the ground was harsh to lie across, the corners of every shard jagged and pressing against his flesh. Still, Ganondorf kept his mouth shut, and blood stained the stone beneath him. The whipping only stopped so Link could change his approach, and he returned to Ganon’s shoulder, pressing his heel roughly and deeply against the bloodied wound, grinding every bone and vein that so feebly connected to the chasm. What resulted was an even greater stab of pain that took hold of every muscle in his body, wrenching and tearing at that which struggled to heal. Contrary to Ganon’s earlier determinations, he could not manage to stay silent when every limb in his body screamed.

He shrieked in agony, but the short cry took the last of his energy. He fell into choking and gagging for air.

“Who am I?”

Blood was showering Ganon’s hair and shadows battered at his eyesight. He murmured with all the strength he had and still could not be heard. He was gasping, shuddering, the thrashing producing nothing but painful noises in his head that could not be dulled,. Link finally withdrew, but did not cease in asking the question with all of the hatred and impatience he could gather.

“Who am I?”

Ganondorf coughed, but feared Link would continue the beating if he stayed silent, and he knew well he could take no more. He was dizzy, the headache hammering him and the blood rushing like water, and only in partial consciousness did he respond, “Master, master—“

Everything fell from him. He recalled only a short moment in which he begged Master not to hurt him anymore, and after that, everything went black.

**********

Even when Ganondorf woke up again, he was still reeling from the spontaneity and viciousness of the attack. He spat, groaned, and attempted to lift his head, but this motion failed. Everything pulsed with pain and lay frozen.

Link hadn’t been merciful this time.

Ganondorf gave up and started to wait for Link to realize he was awake. He strained to listen for Link’s footsteps over the rock, expecting to hear the clatter of rubble as Link pursued him. Instead, there was nothing but a vacant silence.

Link had left. However, Ganondorf was sure that Master would come back, so he did not mind it. He closed his eyes and prepared to wait, mental delusions fluttering about to help him cope and adapt.

Surely, surely, he thought, he must have deserved it. Why, it was silly to think otherwise. Master did it—of course he must have deserved it. Ganondorf rolled his tongue around in his mouth, fervently trying to justify this outpouring of blood and pain.

Why, he knew better than to stab at such a sensitive issue! He should have calmed down, realized that Master was not trying to offend him, and that he didn’t have to say such cruel things—

His fingers twitched around the rubble beneath his body.

Master was right, really. He deserved that—why, he deserved more, if anything. Master would never do something so erratically without reason, without some of that maddening ‘justice’ that drove him to act. How he envied Master and all of his perfection and clarity of thinking, how he yearned to be able to do ‘justice’ as he did—

He lay on a pile of rocks, beaten into stillness, and pondering over his uselessness. He wondered how much a burden he was. He was a useless jackal, yapping senselessly over things that didn’t concern him—

How stupid. How utterly shameful and stupid of him.

Blood was dripping down his forehead and gathering at his eyes. He blinked, and everything grew salty and red. He tried to move, but then the shooting pains would bridle him, and he would sink again into the rocks. The sharp rubble cut into his face and hands, their corners softly slicing into his petrified skin. He wished he could stand up and relieve himself of these jabbing sensations, but he was too sore, too defeated to even try. Even if it didn’t hurt so tremendously as it did, there was an underlying lack of desire to move. He was beaten and he had no reason to get up. If lying on the ground with rocks stabbing him meant the humiliation was over, so be it.

He shuddered and moaned. The sour taste of blood was seeping into his mouth and he didn’t have the strength to spit it out. He only lay there, prostrate, near death. As he lost blood, he wondered whether Master would come back in time. He knew Master would come back—he knew it. But it had to be soon. Even it he didn’t bleed to death, there were so many ways he could die like this—from cold, thirst, wild animals… He winced at the thought of being dragged off and being slowly dismembered while still half-alive by hungry beasts.

Or he could fall ill.

Surely Master didn’t want that. He would come back to take care of him.

Of course…

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