The Wind Waker

XXIV

IT WASN'T a grand dwelling. The shapes and curves of the wooden planks seemed to indicate that they were repurposed from the hull of a ship.

The hut's simple wooden skeleton was shrouded in feathers and bones, and banners of symbols and pictures he did not recognize.

This was the abode of the most evil man that had ever lived. Link had seen him once before, shrouded in darkness, yet made visible by the flames behind him.

Link set his jaw. From his back, he pulled off the shield his mother had given to him, drawing upon the wisdom she had imparted to him throughout his life.

From his sheath, he pulled the master sword, the blade of evil's bane. the legendary weapon that had confounded darkness many times before. He gripped it tightly, feeling the personal power and strength his father had cultivated within him.

And he wore the hero's garb, the clothing worn for generations by boys just like him. Worn by his father, and by his father, and his father.

Only, Link was not simply wearing it for a ceremony, but he was wearing it in the role of one of the goddesses' chosen heroes.

His skin felt like it had frosted over.

For a thousand years, boys like him had donned the hero's cloth, waiting for the day that the goddesses would send forth a new hero. The day that they would no longer be left alone to shelter on their islands, but be rescued by a hero as noble as the ones of old.

All his life, Link had revered the ancient hero of time, and he had looked forward to the future day when that new hero would rise.

And Farore had chosen him.

Panic and terror of the highest degree began to seize him. Every doubt and deprecating thought pierced his mind. They came in ever intensity, in every variety.

He was weak. He was not the hero of time. He was not worthy to lay his eyes on the blade the hero had wielded.

No.

He ceased those thoughts. He refused to grapple with them. He had done more than he ever thought possible. He had rescued Aryll. He had laid hold on the mighty master sword. He had heard the voice of Farore.

His boots thudded against the stone as he walked inside the hut, parting a woven curtain covering the doorway.

There was only the light of a single torch in the corner. Link had scarcely taken in the details of the room when he saw a tall figure illuminated by that light, staring out a window.

The figure did not react to his entrance. Surely Link must have made perceptible noise when he drew the curtain door.

Should he make his attack right now? Strike when Ganondorf was not defending himself?

Link felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Ganondorf... that figure... it looked like a man. A very large man, yes, but not like a monster. He was a real, tangible person.

One that he was going to have to attack. And never before had Link raised a weapon towards a living, thinking person.

"You have come."

Link shuddered as he heard Ganondorf's voice. It was not the monstrous growl he had imagined. It... it sounded clear and deep. Calming.

Link didn't respond.

"Your presence has not gone unnoticed," Ganondorf said. "You have accomplished more in your plans than I should have allowed. That was my folly. I relied too greatly on what I knew. I watched the isles near the Forest Haven so closely, imagining that the next champion of the goddesses would spring forth from there. But I was foolish.