The Greatest Adventure

The Greatest Adventure
History of Hyrule Part Three

The fire crackled, casting eerie shadows across the room. The common room of the inn was long and rectangular, with several circular tables scattered around it. The hearth from with the fire glowed dully was at the far end of the room from the door, and the few patrons still awake were all sitting close to its smoldering embers, hoping to cheat the cold damp of the rain pouring outside. Of course, most the inn’s occupants had retired to their rooms long ago, but there were always those who found the pattering rain and roll of distant thunder something impossible to sleep through. It was something that called, like the beckoning hand of a strange ghostly figure… something that vexed, like a half remembered dream in the dark night… something that made you all that much more alive, by reminding you how close the end really was.

In the chair closest to the fire sat the innkeeper. He was slightly plump, though his hairy arms were thick and powerful, belaying the fact that he preformed most of the inn’s heavier work himself. The hair at the sides of his head was a jet black, course and unwashed, but the top of his bald crown glowed orange in the smoldering light. To his right, cross-legged on the ground sat a lanky youth in a weather-stained cloak. His wispy blond hair was combed back, gleaming an odd color by firelight. His thin, long fingered hands circled around a steaming cup, the smell of poorly brewed rice-wine floating from it. A katana rested on the ground just behind him, but its position was such to afford a reasonably quick draw. Still, he looked young, and more than slightly inexperienced in the ways of the world. A dog was curled up in front of him, warming itself on the hearth. Every so often the shaggy wolf-like hound would lick its snout and whine slightly, perhaps chasing an elusive hare or fox as it slept. In a rickety old chair to the right of the dog, and back slightly further from the fire, sat an old woman, blanket held close against the cold. She was obviously missing teeth, and her face was a museum of gnarled wrinkles, but her eyes gazed into the glowing embers with a furious intensity, as though the storm and fire reminded her of day before age and time had beat her in a way no man ever could. Just in front of her, lounging on the ground, was a young man, leaning back against his pack and staring absently at the dog. His brown, curly, hair looked as though it could use a good wash, as did his clothes and skin. He was clearly an experienced traveler, more used to life outside an inn than in one.

The four sat in silence. They all stared into the fire and waited. What they waited for even they didn’t know… especially they… maybe someone else did, but all that they knew was they were waiting… waiting because it was storming, and something deep inside was telling them something real, more real than normal life, was about to happen.

There was one other figure in the room, but he was hard to see. He stood back, away from the others in the shadows cast by the dieing fire, face just out of the light. His black cloak blended into the dark, making his tall figure hard to distinguish from the pressing shadows. His long hair was black as pitch, pulled into a tail save the locks that fell over his face, blocking his eyes. The large pack he had come in with lay at his feet, the handle of what was obviously a large axe protruding from the bottom of it. No one was looking at him, but even if they had it would have been impossible to determine where the stranger looked. His pointed ears and features were obvious foreign, and unlike anything the innkeeper had ever seen, but it had been clear he was in no mood to talk. No one had spoken to him, and he had offered no explanation as to his past, only paid for his stay with as few words as possible.

But that night, as the four of them waited, as the storm murmured, as they stared into the fire, the dark figure stepped closer to the light and spoke.

Maybe it was the storm, maybe it was the fire, maybe it was something greater than any of them… but in the dark night of the rain, around a dieing fire, he spoke. He spoke and they heard him. The innkeeper who had never answered the call of his heart, the wanderer that knew no home, the lad who saw life opening before him and the woman who saw it close behind her; they all heard him.

And they did not know why, but his words filled them with a feeling they could never name. Maybe it was the storm, or maybe it was the fire, or maybe, just maybe, it was that something greater, but something caused his word to become that thing they had waited for. That truth, that hope, that one thing that was more real than normal life.

“I come from a land far away… further away than any have been. Over mountains, across vast seas, over planes of grass that stretch further than the eye can see or the mind fathom. Past towns, cities, and kingdoms. Under skies that never rain and over rivers that churn with life and power. Through fogs that never lift and over lands where rain falls as though to flood the whole world. Countries that are always blanketed in pure snow and lands where sand covers every inch of ground. Past empires built with gold, stone, bronze, and blood… I have seen more since leaving my country then it is possible to see in one life, or even ten lives, and yet I have learned of no greater thing then the tale of my people. Listen well… this is the greatest adventure… the greatest past… the greatest tale ever told…”

*******

Long ago, in the reign of the great and just Lord Fiate, the land was calm, and the people lived in blessed peace. So great was the peace, and so content was the just Fiate with his realm, that he decided the time was right to start his own family, and enjoy the peace he had worked so hard to build. Alas, his beautiful wife died in childbirth, unable to bear the strain of bringing a babe into the world. Fiate wept beside her bad when he knew she must die, but she only smiled and told him to name the child Zelda, which means “Life” in our tongue. The sages marveled at the name, and nodded their approval, claiming that surely this babe would perform a great service for the kingdom. And so, the new princess was taken back to the palace, and her father rejoiced in the new daughter the goddesses had given him.

However at this same time, far from the peace and joy of the palace, another child was born. Even as the baby boy was being brought into the world, the village was being attacked and burned. And so the poor mother ran away from the village, away from the marauding monsters, away from her dead parents and family. She ran as fast as she could, all the while carrying her babe who was not yet two hours old. Pain, fear and love for her child drove her to run into the forest that lay beyond her village, the Lost Wood from which none had ever returned. She knew she was growing weaker, and that her time was short. She had but one wish, to see her babe safe before dieing, and fate would not be so cruel as to deny her that one hope. She stumbled into the glade of the Great Deku Tree, the guardian spirit of the forest, and offered the babe to it for protection. The kind spirit agreed to care for the boy, and the mother died with a look of clam assurance on her face. And so the Great Deku Tree gave the boy over to the Kokrai, the forest children who never age or die, to watch and care for him. For the great and powerful Deku Tree had felt something when it first saw the child, the tingle of a mighty and powerful destiny.

And so the two babes grew into children, one in the palace, surrounded my maids, feasts and knights, the other in the enchanted Wood, playing with fairies, birds, and leaves. They seemed but normal children, however Lord Fiate never forgot what the wise men had said about his daughter, and the Great Deku Tree never forgot what it had felt the day it had saved the boy.

And so it came to pass, that in the desert a mighty and powerful wizard began to rise to power. The great Gannon, evil’s incarnation. Before much time, the mighty Gannon began to war against the peaceful land of Hyrule. He wanted to harness the power of the sacred Triforce, the very essence of the goddesses. Through his arcane arts, Gannon drew on the Triforce of Power, twisting it to his ends. He used it to cover the land of Hyrule in a dark shadow, calling forth monsters, ghosts, wizards, and other vile creatures of the dark. The king and his knights battled fearlessly, but the power of the Triforce was too great. Gannon swept the land, spreading his dark shadow… all seemed lost. But two other pieces of the Triforce remained, as did hope for Hyrule. Therefore, Gannon was afraid, for as long as other pieces of the Triforce remained outside his control there was the power to destroy his dark reign.

And so it was that the time came for the Princess named Life to fulfill her destiny. Taking the Triforce of Wisdom, she fled into the hills, trying to keep it safe from the evil magus Gannon. As she fled, she told her nurse and protector, a woman named Impa, to take the remaining Triforce of Courage and await the one worthy to hold it… the one worthy to be the Hero of Hyrule. But Gannon caught the princess and took her to his lair. There he would have killed her, but only she knew where the last Triforce piece lay. And so he surrounded her fire and left her in his dungeon. Impa saw the danger, and so she broke apart the Triforce of Courage and scattered the seven pieces across the land, hiding them in the temples dotted over the land. Then she ran away to the south, seeking someone who could save the land.

At his time, the baby boy who by now was a lad, decided to venture out into the wood. While walking, he found a woman being attacked by vicious brutes. Angered at the sight of such wickedness, the lad fell on the monsters and killed them, saving the woman. The woman was in fact no other then the princess’ nurse Impa. She thanked the lad, and as she did so she reached to take his hand. And there, on the back of the boy’s left hand was the symbol of the Triforce. Then she knew that this lad was the one… the one who would bring peace to the dark and torn land of Hyrule… the one who could battle the might of evil’s incarnation, the great magus Gannon. And when she told the lad of the princess, and of the darkness, and of the way to destroy it, the lad felt his heart burn, and he knew his destiny… he would destroy Gannon, or die trying.

And so the lad journeyed to the Temples of Hyrule, seeking to gather the pieces of the last Triforce, gaining power. But Gannon was not without eyes. His spies had told him of Impa’s plane to use a boy to overcome him, and he sent forth his legions. He did not know the Triforce was scattered over Hyrule, but he knew Impa was sending the boy from temple to temple. So he dispatched his monstrous hoard into Hyrule, seeking to cut the lad down before he could reach the temples. But the lad cut through them as a sickle through the grain. He fought his way though the first temple, easily killing the few guards Gannon had left there. This angered the vile magus to the point of a bloody frenzy. He sent even stronger and more powerful beasts to the next temple, which lay in the hills, to await the lad. The hero was too strong to fall to these petty beasts though, and he easily battled his way into the last room where the Triforce piece lay. There he found the mighty Dongdosua, a fearsome beast immune to all attacks but from a special exploding flower. Fortunately, Impa had warned the lad of this, and he had taken the flower. The beast fell, the lad moved on, and Gannon seethed with rage.

However, the lad’s path was far from over… After defeating Gannon’s monsters, the vile magus realize the boy was not a weakling. And so he laid a trap for the youth, sending a dark creature he had formed with his mystic arts to await the boy in the Forest Temple. The foul creature had four giant claws, snapping in every direction, and armor thicker then and smith could have forged. However, so great was the lad strength and heart, that he overcame the creature, leaving its broken carcass in a smoldering heap. Then Gannon knew he had underestimated the lad, and he readied his greatest guardians.

First there was Seemithus, the two headed dragon who dwelt in the temple of the sea. When the lad saw Seemithus, he gripped his sword tight, and prayed from strength, so great was its vile power. They battled for hours; Seemithus blowing fire and belching steam, the lad rolling away from the flames and hacking with his sword. One blow took off the evil wyrm’s right head, but as it hit the ground t began to writhe and slide toward the lad like a snake. When he saw this, the lad was sorely temped to despair, but he pressed on, battling the dragon and its fallen head. When the Seemithus saw how the boy showed neither despair or fear, it knew it was defeated. The courage of the lad was too great, and the one weapon that could kill the beast. So the great Seemithus fell, but Gannon had sent something far worse the temple atop the largest mountain of Hyrule.

There the lad met the Giant’s Eye, a massive being of destruction. Gannon had summoned it from the depths of the sea, the last remains of a long drowned magical giant. It hammered the lad with out mercy, and even his noble soul could not prevail, for his sword slipped right through the jelly of the Giant’s Eye. Just when it seemed all was lost, an old man slipped from the shadows and tossed the lad a flute. In desperation, the lad blew on the instrument, a tune he had learned in the forest. The Giant’s Eye recoiled at the sweet, haunting, melody, and pulled back into itself. It writhed and squirmed and finally exploded into a shower of water. The lad watched the monster dissipate, then turned to see who this strange man was.

He was one of the sages that had advised the princess’ father before the days of Gannon. He told the lad many things, of how the Giant’s Eye could only be harmed by music, of how the power the lad gained from the pieces of the Triforce would grow as he traveled on, of how the princess still waited him while in Gannon’s dungeon, and something of the trials ahead. But most importantly, he told him of the sword that his brother sage held in waiting for him. The ancient evil slaying blade of the Hylian people.

The Master’s Sword.

The Sage told the lad that both the sword and the next temple awaited him in the ancient burial grounds in the north. So the lad traveled on, not knowing that Gannon was now bending his entire mind and will to destroying him. For Gannon had just seen his two most powerful minions fall, and anger and hate consumed him. But in the shadowy graves, surround by ghosts and darkness, Gannon’s power was greater, and it was there, in the Temple of Tombs, that he would strike hardest. The dark graves gave his magic more power, and also the magic of his servants. So he sent his acolytes, wizards training in his dark path, to the temple. There were a hundred of them, each more powerful than the last, that were sworn to serve his dark will, and they descended on the temple without question. However, the lad was now armed with the legendary Master’s Sword, and his heart burned with courage and strength. Long he battled in that cold dark temple, but he at last sent the vile wizards back to the abyss, scattering their souls on the void. But Gannon had anticipated the failure of his acolytes, and had taken extra care to ensure the lad would not leave the temple alive.

It was a demon from the underworld, summoned by Gannon through the Triforce of power. Its hulking shape was that of a giant crab, one eye winking in the center of its armored body. Its claws snapped open and closed with power and strength not of this world. The lad struck it with his sword, but the demon was not of this world, and cared not for swords. It crushed his shield with a single blow, and pressed in for the kill. But the lad was not without strength of his own. The great sage had warned him that evil no blade could pierce might come, and taught him a mighty spell to combat it. The lad cast the spell, calling on the fire of the goddesses. The demon roared and dispersed, destroyed by the boy’s spell. The lad claimed the sixth piece of Triforce and moved on. Two more temple awaited him, and time was growing short.

The seventh temple lay beneath a vast lake, and this time Gannon knew he would be ready. The boy had proven his magic power and strength in arms, but Gannon had another test for him; courage and will. To the Lake Temple the vile magus sent the entirety of the hoard that had swept aside the Hylian army in but one night. Monsters, wizards, dark knights, blobs, ghosts, skeletons, and other things too awful to even be dreamed of. To find the seventh piece of his Triforce, the lad must might his way through ten thousand minions of Gannon’s mighty army. The dark magus was sure it was a task no mortal could perform. And waiting for the lad, after such a mighty hoard, Gannon had a special surprise. Using his arts he had revived the great dragon Seemithus and added to its powers, giving the dragon even more heads capable of breathing fire, venom, and ice.

However, if Gannon expected the lad to despair, he was about to be sorely disappointed. It was not in the boy to fall to such a monstrous hoard, his strength of heart was too great for that. The battle was long and hard, and more than once did the lad think he was too wounded and hurt to go on fighting the seemingly endless hoard of minions that swarmed him. However, the thought of the princess, the land, and the right, moved him on, pushing him to fight on. And fight he did, until the hoard fell, and Seemithus once more lay in ruin, giving up its piece of the Triforce. However, a greater test of the lad’s spirit was still to come, for the next temple was a twisting maze of passages and tunnels buried deep under the land of Hyrule. Fake wall, hidden stairs, doors that led nowhere, door that led only where one had already been, all of them built to confuse and torment those who would enter the temple. It was a labyrinth built in the pitch of utter dark, a foreboding a gloom maze that had claimed countless lives. But the lad’s sanity and courage prevailed. He found the final piece of the Triforce and set out to free the princess and save the land.

And Gannon saw his error. The Triforce had been hidden from him, but right under his nose. The lad now possessed the power of the Triforce of Courage, and perhaps a way to kill him. Now Gannon felt something he had never known… fear. The lad could not be stopped, and it would not be long before he came to fight in Gannon’s own lair. In desperation, Gannon pulled all that was left of his mighty hoard, his remaining acolytes, his knights, his wizards, his most mighty and vile beasts, his dragons, his Giant Eyes, his darkest shadows, and even his deadliest demons back to his tower on the top of Death Mountain, the tall and smoldering volcano that blacked Hyrule’s sky.

Gannon’s Tower rose like a massive, foreboding skull. Had the lad not courage, he would have fled at the very sight of it. But, steeling himself for the dark horror of the tower, the lad pressed on. Gannon waited in the central most room of his dark tower, watching through his magic arts as the lad fought his way through minions up, down, and around the tower. The lad came closer and closer, fighting like an avenging angel. And then he was there, in Gannon’s throne room. And suddenly, the battle was no longer about Gannon’s lust for power, or the boy’s quest to save his people. It became something more. It was the battle that haunts all of us… Good verse Evil… Truth verse Untruth… Light verse Dark… The battle of life itself.

On one side of the room stands Evil, dark, ugly, massive, powerful, and yet afraid. On the other stands Truth, young, bright, small, full of courage, and without fear. And we watch… all of us. Those dead, those not yet born. Those old, those young. All good, all evil. Any that have ever seen good clash with evil, light with dark, the opposites of the world. We all watch…

Evil moves first, lurching forward. Hate burn out in a visible beam of death. Good takes the blast, falling back with the blow. But Good has no come so far to be toppled at a single blow. Rising, Good strikes out with his sword, a gleaming, glittering arc that cuts deep into Evil’s side. Untruth falls to the ground, as though dead… waiting as its adversary steps closer. Then Untruth bounds up, his deception complete. Its claw-like hand whips around, planning to knock his adversary back with a powerful blow. But Untruth cannot take Truth in so easily. Truth has expected an attack, and raises his shield to absorb the strike. Truth’s sword slashes out again, once more cutting into the flesh of Untruth. Darkness has yet one more trick up its sleeve though, and even as it falls back from the attack, it vanishes into the shadow. The invisibility of darkness has caused even the mightiest of men to falter, but Light is never without sight. Focusing, Light closes his eyes, letting his spirit guide him. Lunging forward, he gives a powerful blow, seemingly at naught but air. But a mighty roar rings out at the blow. A cry of rage. A cry of hate. A cry of pain. A cry of fear. Death has just tasted of Life, and the dose was too much.

Gannon fell that night beneath the blade of the lad… the Hero of Hyrule. And so the princess named Life and the lad left the temple, and as they did, peace, light and love returned to Hyrule. The people of Hyrule hailed their hero as the great warrior he was, and the princess as the brave and wise leader she had proven herself to be. They swore this tale would never be forgotten.

And they lived happily ever after…

*******

His tale ended as abruptly as it had begun. For what seemed an eternity the four listeners stared into the dieing embers of the fire. The dark speaker remained behind them, eyes still veiled. The boy knew in his heart that he was like the lad, brave, daring, and adventurous, and sighed as he though about the tales still ahead of him. The woman smiled knowingly, certain that she shared a kindred spirit with the princess, the brave, honorable girl that had risked even capture to save her people. The wandering lad, resting back on his pack, silted his eyes closed, wondering when his princess would appear… finally giving him direction and ending his meandering. The innkeeper just stared into the embers, tears creeping down his craggy face. Turning, he looked back to the dark foreigner, still partially hid in the dark shadows. There was too much sadness there… something was not covered in the story…

“Stranger,” the innkeeper croaked, voice hoarse, as though speaking put him dangerously close to losing what little emotion the story had left unscratched, “the lad, did his story end there?”
“How could it? He had seen evil, and defeated it… no one could live the same life after that.”
“No, no…” the young lad agreed from the floor, hope in his voice, “it couldn’t have… he would have had to keep moving. It’s who he was.”
The stranger did not reply, just continued to stand in the shadow, eyes behind his pitch hair. The innkeeper studied him, the pieces coming together in his mind.
“You are the one, aren’t you….” he finally breathed, pointing a shaking finger towards the stranger, “the one that fought with Gannon!”

The stranger did not reply. For an answer he simply bent and picked up his pack,, resting it over his shoulder with a calculated and practiced swing. The whole time his face seemed veiled, shadow darkening the room just for him. Without a word, the stranger turned and walked to the door. His hand came to rest on the door, read to push it open, but he stood there for a moment. At last, his head turned ever so slightly to look at them over his shoulder. His clear grey eyes were like a piercing arrow, as though he could bore through you with but a glance. They looked sad and far away, eyes that had seen much more then the age of the face would have spoken.

“I was one of the ones that swore this story would be forever remembered… my people have been scattered from one end of the world to the other. I seek everywhere for them, telling their story as I go. I am no more the hero than any I have told the story to… nor am I less. The lad was just that: a lad. We knew there was a hero coming, but he refused to wait for the hero and fought to do what he could, and so became the hero we waited for… and therein is the true meaning of this story. Do with it what you will.”

With that, he opened the door. A chilling gust of wind from the night storm blew in, carrying the rich smell of wet. The wind puffed out the dieing fire, finally shrouding the room in darkness. The all sat there for a split second, listening to the sounds of wind and rain that sounded all that much clearer now that sight was gone. And they sat there. And time no longer seemed to have meaning, and the room seemed to become separated from the rest of the world. As though those four, that stranger, and that tale, were all there had ever been. But at last, after moments that each seemed to last an eternity, the innkeeper lit the fire again. No one was surprised to find that the stranger had disappeared, but each began to wonder if it had just been a dream that only he had seen.

The lad left at first light with a smile and a proud air. He was headed nowhere, and yet everywhere. He knew the stranger was right… there was a hero in him, and he was determined to find those under evil shadow to free.

The wanderer left, later in the day, nodding his respects to the old woman at the fire as he paid for a few final supplies. The innkeeper asked where he might go. It was his custom to ask the question, but this time he listened for the answer in a way he hadn’t for years. The way that made him want to leave his inn on the road and finally pack his own bags. The wanderer just shrugged, and shouldered his pack.
“I’d like to see this Hyrule… and it seems like quite a journey.” He looked back to the innkeeper and saw longing in the eyes. Smiling, he pointed for the door.
“Care to join me?”

The innkeeper felt the old call, and felt the struggle of his heart. His hope, and his fear. Sighing, he shook his head but once.
“Go on… Heaven knows I will follow the first storm of fall… I will seek you in Hyrule.”
So the wanderer left to seek out the land of the greatest story, hoping the innkeeper would finally find peace.

The old woman took chill and died in her bed before two days had past. The innkeeper had been the only one with her in the end, but her strong resolve remained. She had laughed at death, passing away with a smile. She told the innkeeper that she was planning on searching the spirit world for the princess in the story. It could not be too difficult, she reasoned, for they shared the same spirit in life, and would surly find themselves close at death. The innkeeper buried her in a grove behind his inn. He had never learned the woman’s name, but she had asked for only one thing to adorn the simple stone that marked her final resting. Life.

The first fall storm came, as did a second and third, but the innkeeper could not bring himself to travel away from his home. And first a year, then two years, the three years of fall storms came and went. And with each one, the innkeeper knew a little surer that he would forever stay in his inn. On normal days this did not even cause him to pause in his cleaning, but on the nights where it stormed it caused him to sit before his fire and yearn for the things he would never see. And on those night, when the rain was falling, and the thunder was rolling, and there were those waiting for that something, he would tell the story. And in the dark and stillness that followed it, he would tell them of the lesson… of the hero that still walked, and of the wanderer that still sought Hyrule. And on those night, the nights of rain, thunder, and waiting, the innkeeper knew his place was to keep the story alive as long as he could. For not all stories are just tales. Some are greater… more real than normal life.

Those are the greatest tales.

The greatest adventure ever told.