The Legend of Zelda: The Fate of Hyrule

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight - Johanna's POV

My father collects bows. I think he has one from each tribe he knows of, whether they are still thriving today or not. He hangs them on the walls inside our house, supported by two nails on each 'limb' of the bow (never by the string). As a toddler, I used to stand with my head titled way back and gaze at the bows, admiring their surprisingly accurate woodwork. I remember only being able to reach the colorful beads strung in a pattern that hung from a few of the strings. It's funny how I can't remember the exact year, but I know that I started practicing archery as soon as I could reach one of those bows on the wall.

Jaeni is a friend of my mother's. She runs an archery shop right across from our house, where she sells her own handcrafted bows. She's not bad at handling them either. That's why my mother hired her on the spot when I started attempting to use that bow. The two of us bonded immediately.

On the very first day of practice, little seven year-old me was presented a set of three makeshift targets, on the opposite end of Jaeni's backyard. We started with target practice. Jaeni showed me the proper stance and grip of the bow in a lengthy demonstration, then carefully shifted every inch of my body to align with the target, only to have the arrow lodge into a tree, a good twenty feet away from the target. She told me I just needed to keep my hands steady. It took me a week to get an arrow on that target.

Jaeni is the only Gerudo in our village. Her skin is a beautiful shade of brown, and her long, red hair can hang down to her waist, although it is usually contained in a ponytail, swung over her shoulder.

If you know even the slightest bit of culture in Hyrule, you should know that a Gerudo living in a village of Hyrulians is a bit odd. After all, Ganondorf himself was a Gerudo, and although he has long since been sealed away, there is still a very noticeable tension between the two races. A male Gerudo is only born once every one hundred years, and there still exists the worry that the next born could be dangerous. About twenty years ago, when another one hundred years had passed, a male Gerudo was born, and a group of Hyrulean soldiers was sent to slaughter the baby. They succeeded, of course. But they don't teach us about this in school. They don't want us to know about it.

Since this incident, the relationship between our tribes has been growing worse and worse. The Gerudo will attempt to kill any unwanted soul that they find in their land, the Gerudo Desert. We haven't pledged to do the same just yet, but I'm sure it will occur soon.

Jaeni has told me why she seperated herself from the Gerudo. As a child, she disagreed with the morals that all young Gerudo were taught. By age ten, she had been taught how to properly handle a spear, and which points were the most lethal to hit.

She snuck out one night when she was fourteen. She didn't have a plan, but eventually she stumbled into Zelfari. The citizens were wary at first, but after a while they recognized her as just another neighbor. Using her prior knowledge of bows and arrows, she opened an archery shop in order to make a decent living. Then I came along. She taught me everything she knew. The multitude of different archery terms used, how to hold a bow, how to nock an arrow.

Archery gives me a sense of power. I may not be very strong myself, but with an bow and arrow, I deem myself unstoppable. If something were to happen, if our village was attacked, I would feel safe as long as I could feel my hand grasping a bow, and a quiver against my back.

I'm supposed to practice with Jaeni today, but with what happened last night at the festival, I don't have it in me. Who does Link think he is, embarrassing me in front of my friends like that? Cursing under my breath, I climb out of bed and pace across my room. I come to a small, wooden table, where my bow and quiver lie. Before I can think, my hands reach for them. The bow's intricate carvings dance upon my skin as it slides into my hand. The quiver's strap warms the skin of my bare shoulder. These sensations, although very familiar to me, never cease to bring a smile to my face. They make me feel at home, even as I trudge through the tall grass of our backyard, retreating to a thick forest at the edge of the village.