The Legend of Zelda: The Hope of Eons

Chapter One ~~~ Growing up

 For as long as there has been light in the world, there has also been darkness, waiting for its moment to destroy those who would fight for all that is good. It comes creeping when you least expect it. Often, it pretends to be a friend, giving you false hope. Sometimes, it takes the shape of something you wouldn't ever expect, say, a mask. It could be right in front of somone and they wouldn't even know it was there. It isn't always inconspicuous. Sometimes, it's so blatantly obvious it hard to believe that it's staring them in the face. No matter in what form it may find itself, it always comes. But, remember, for as long as there is darkness there is light ready to take it's place.

The light came clad in green with the sword of evil's bane ready to cut down those who would disturb what was good. With his courage, there was none who could stop him. He was a light in the darkness. Whether he be skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight he was always there when the world needed him most.

Seven years ago the world was plunged into twilight. It was a period of obscurity, ambiguity, and gradual decline. As the light ebbed, so did the warmth of the day, until all that was left was the chill of twilight and the promise of a cold night to come. The Twilight stole the vibrant greens of the multicolored lakeside that once used to sparkle like a mirror leaving behind a somber shade that faded into monochrome. It stole away the warmth and life of Death Mountain that once was fiery with passion, and it took away the silent hope from the forest. All seemed lost to the world. But, for long as there is darkness there was light.

This time the light took shape as a simple heard rancher from the small village of Ordan. It was Ordon where he spent his childhood playing with the chickens, smashing pots mercilessly, and riding his horse from dusk until dawn. Sword-fights, with his closest friends and the sun beating down, was how he spent the last of each day with an occasional slingshot. Stones were easy to come by, along with the mud and the sticks, it was all the hero in making had. He learned to be creative in the ways that he played, His body grew, his mind expanded, the village might have seen hard times, but always the sword was drawn and the stones were free.

The boy loved the ranch he had grown up on. The mud all around the ranch lay in uneven patches, scattered over the flat plain. The smell of goat manure hung thickly over the more subtle scent of pumpkins. A poorly constructed large gate of wooden planks and chicken wire seemed to flex and bow whenever it was opened or closed, barred the area from the rest of the village. Slightly further up a stable of rotting wood with a corrugated metal roof housed dozens of goats. As bad as it smelled, the boy loved everything about it.

As time went by the boy soon forgot they days where he played with those closest to him. His days were occupied with working the ranch of the small dwindling community and doing small jobs for those around him. He became the thread that held the small town together, albeit a thin thread that was destined to soon break.

Soon, destiny would take the boy for its own. The village he had grown to love had its very foundations torn apart as all of their children disappeared into the blackness of the twilight. And so, it was his job as the thread to pull them back together.

The rancher was no longer a boy as he used to be. He was a man not by choice. His sword was still drawn and his stones still flew, but this time they weren't aimed at harmless unmoving targets. His targets had turned into the kind of monsters one wishes to never cross, but the kind of monster one must face to become a real hero. And so, he slew the monsters, rescued the children, traveled the land, defeated the mad king, and saved the princess, but it had taken its toll

When he came back to his childhood home he was different and so were those around him for all had been affected by the war. The children that use to play with in front of his house where no longer children. They had seen to much and done to much to be considered children any longer.

They didn't play with a sense of normalcy anymore. They were no longer content with their lives. Beth, one of the children, moved to Castle Town wanting to start a new life in its glistening spires. She had hope for the future ahead and was ready to put the past far beyond her. Malo, the youngest of the group, had left the small village after the success of his chain store Malo Mart. They were even thinking about starting a new store by lake Hylia.

The others weren't so determined in their endeavors. Talo decided to stay in the village, he was now engaged to a nice girl even though he was only sixteen. He had decided that he shouldn't wait to get married when he never knew what might happen.

The man returned to the village clad in green but he found that he didn't fit in anymore. He wasn't content as he used to be when he herded the goats and he no longer found it welcoming. He wanted to badly to go back to his normal life but no matter what he did he couldn't. A month after he returned to his home he packed up his bags on his horse. He took a glance around his small treehouse home probably for the last time. Standing in front of the door he sighed, gaining the courage to leave.

The door that was once a brilliant deep purple had become splintered as it has faded in the sunlight; the seasons and unkempt times had taken their toll, baking it in summer, freezing in the coldest months. He realized then leaving home forever would be the hardest thing he had ever experienced, so many memories, and now all of them balled up in his chest. At least, when he had been saving the world he always had the hope that he would return home but now he knew he might never come back. He ran his hand down to the elongated handle of the faded treehouse door, skinny at the edges, thicker in the middle, memorizing it. Then he seized it, rammed the door shut. He could almost hear the ghost of his childhood whimper as he turned to the sharp breeze of late fall. He had grown up and life had forgotten the Twilight and their hero. He thought no one would even blink an eye, no one would remember him but they did.

When he first arrived to Ordan he was different, everyone could tell. Those who hadn't fought with him during the war or seen what he had truly done went on oblivious to the world around them. A hero was in their midst and they never knew. But, for those who had known what he did: they were the ones who noticed the change the most. They could never truly know the extent of what he did for them, how could they? But they knew he was changed. No one blamed him when he secluded himself or when he disappeared, never to be seen.

Some thought that he died giving his life for the world, while others believed he was off on some adventure somewhere fighting monsters and saving princesses in a land few knew about. However, there was one boy who never gave up hope on him, who believed he was still out there biding his time to rise up when Hyrule needed him most. He was relentless in his belief despite what people would tell him every day. His name was Colin.

Colin was ten years old when the hero went on his quest to save the world. He was like a brother to him that he never had. Link played with him, mentored him, and trained him every single day for as long as he could remember. Seven years later and one might think while looking at the boy that he was the hero reborn. His blonde hair was unruly; thrown back into a messy ponytail at the base of his head. Hair from the slightly layered cut wasn't included in the ponytail, but they perfectly framed his face. His eyes sparkled like storm clouds when lightning hit. Clouds of gray and blue threatened floods and fury while pupils dilated with passion, eyelashes catching the raindrops. Moreover, they were alike in not just looks, but in mind. He cared far too much for the world. He lived by one phrase that the hero had once told him "A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage." However, they were different. When Link started his journey he had never had a trouble in the world. Greatness was thrust upon him without his choice. Colin, however, knew what darkness the world held. He had been kidnapped by a monster at just ten, hadn't he? He was mature and wise beyond his seventeen years.

Colin felt the pain of Link leaving. They say pain dulls with time, and that things will get better eventually. But how can things be better when the reason the pain isn't as bad anymore, is because he had forgotten? Over time, the memory of Links presence had escaped his mind slowly. There had been whole days when he could go one without one thought towards Link. He no longer saw his face in every stranger he saw at castle town like he had when he first left. The pain was still there but it had finally dulled after years of heartache.

It was the hottest day of the year so far when his life had changed, yet again.