***
Link slowly opened his eyes. Then, they burst open as Midna’s face hovered over his.
Closing her eyes, she sighed huge relief, then helped him to sit up. He rather wished he’d stayed down though, as the sight meeting him provided no means of cheering up.
Four walls enclosed them in a small space, rising high, high up to the ceiling. A single, solitary window let moonlight in far above.... Moonlight! How long was he unconscious? Pain still throbbed in his head, dully but doing nothing to improve his mood.
At last, it dawned on them exactly where they were. The Gerudo’s prison.
He looked over at Midna questioningly.
“I knew I couldn’t take them all on,” Midna said. “And I was insistent upon staying with you, though they offered for me to talk with their leader. I thought you should be there for that though, so here we are....”
Yes, here they were. But not for long. In all his frustration, his mind was not blinded to one memory of the first Link: he too had sat in the Gerudo’s prison, but he escaped using a tool which had proved so useful already it seemed almost too good to be true.
As Link drew out the hookshot and Midna gave a little cry of delight, he stood and swooped her close in one arm. Aiming the hookshot, he released the chain and claw which stuck fast into the wood framing the small window. Up they zoomed, landing on the wide window sill. From there, they leapt to a ledge a couple feet below and then gazed down.
As Link watched the guards’ patterns, he knew the way would not be easy. One or the other might see them in turning. Link was in no mood for games; they’d just have to go ahead and risk it and hope not to be caught again.
After waiting for the moment when all the Gerudo turned away, he and Midna leapt the few, remaining feet from the ledge onto the soft sand below. They scurried towards a ridge. If they could hide behind that and wait to judge the guards’ patterns again—
“The prisoner! He’s escaped! Catch them!”
Link and Midna bolted madly towards the ridge as the soft thuds of Gerudo footfall pursued. They didn’t make it far though before a half-dozen, purple-clad females with fiery eyes encircled them, spear tips pointed dangerously close.
Link cursed inwardly while Midna stood close against him, body rigid, when—
“Stop, and lower your weapons—I said ‘stop’, you fools! Do you not stop when your leader rules it?”
The harsh command caused the Gerudo to lower their spears and bow humbly back, widening their circle to allow the authoritative figure to stroll up and pause before Midna and Link.
Her hair wisped about in curls the color of the sand. Her soft skin reflected the rich, warm tones of the soil of Hyrule Field. A fine ebony and violet velvet sash secured long, billowing, white pants about her thin waist. A sleeveless blouse matched, and delicate golden bangles jingled from her wrists, anklets, and even her dainty, pointed ears. Her eyes shone like two desert storms, imminently changeable. Right now, they promised calm yet warned defense the moment it should become necessary. A long curved sword hung in a scabbard at her side. Her arms remained crossed, but Link felt she could disarm both him and Midna in less time than it took them to draw their weapons.
Instead, a broad grin curled across her lips. A triumphant, mischievous, but definitely pleased gleam illuminated her golden eyes.
“Welcome, Hero, and Midna as well. I am Aniya, Sage of the Sands. Most proud I am—and impressed—at how quickly you solved the riddle. For, indeed, you have passed the first test.
“Only the true Hero would wield that tool which the first Link used to escape this very same sort of prison during his ‘welcome’ to the Gerudo Fortress.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Midna said, bowing her head, as did Link. “But if I may...how do you know my name? None of the others we’ve met thus far have called me by my proper name.”
The smile vanished from the lady’s eyes and lips, like a candle snuffed before given the chance to fully shine. Solemnly, she said, “Come. There are tales even you do not know which I must share. They shall help answer that question and more; but first, we must find a place where lesser ears cannot know their secrets....”
She turned and slipped noiselessly into the nearest doorway. Midna cast Link a wondering frown and followed after the Gerudo, and Link took the rear.
After twisting through several stony passages, they entered a small room lit by torchlight. The only items were several huge, satin pillows strewn on the floor. As the Gerudo sat on one, Midna and Link chose cushions across from her. Watching her intently, they waited.
A kind though sad smile crossed her lips; her youthful face appeared suddenly weary, strewn with a few lines of suffering and worry.
“I know your name,” Aniya began, “because it was spoken often to me by another who revered it dearly—Ebonie.” She closed her eyes, a frown crossing her brow as she remembered.
“Ebonie!” Midna gasped. Link tried to read her features—surprised, certainly in a state of utter wonderment. Beyond that, it was difficult for him to tell if the wonder tied to any fear or worry. He took her stiffened hand and squeezed gently, hoping to ease whatever unpleasant feeling assailed her.
“Ebonie,” Midna breathed. “I knew her. Not well—but I knew her, as I did each of my people. Her disappearance was a great bereavement to her family. What...may I ask what became of her?”
Midna seemed to gasp the last words, face contorting painfully in a sign that she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. Yet, as queen, knowing was her dutiful compassion.
Aniya paused, taking a deep breath. Then, slowly releasing it, she at last opened her eyes, as if she could not bear to envision Ebonie’s silvery face, shimmering like a lost star in the thick black behind her closed eyelids.
“Ebonie certainly never returned to Twilight. I would have sent her myself if only I possessed the magic and wisdom needed, but...in the end, she died of loneliness and a broken heart.
“Ganondorf, his manly ‘duty’ completed with the chosen Ebonie, traveled abroad again, making plans, mustering power and allies—who-knows-what—to prepare to take Hyrule, as ever. We Gerudo always knew what he was up to. We expected it. We didn’t approve, to put it lightly. But nor could we stop it....
“Ebonie’s child was placed in my care, as I was Head Thief in Ganondorf’s absence. He became very much like a son to me. I strived to raise him the best I could. His father’s genes flowed in him, and he was a stubborn, arrogant, even dominating child. But his mother’s gentility and care for all living things rested in his heart, and it was those qualities I sought to nurture while steering those of his father in the right direction. If Ganondorf had used such traits for good, great things he could have done. Great things could his son have done as well....
“When the boy was around ten or so, Ganondorf returned, declaring in his final, authoritative way he would take the boy with him on his journey. I argued in every subtle way I could, saying he needed motherly care, a proper education, stability, all the normal arguments a mother might make.
“But Ganondorf would have none of it. Without explanation or even a farewell, he and the boy stole into the night.
“That was the last I saw or heard from either of them....
“Til recently. Rumors of Ganondorf’s new rise to power began to float aloft, then news of his allies, one from Termina, another from Twilight. Majora, the enemy from Termina...much was already known of her evil through the ancient tales of the first Hero. But this...Prince of Shadow from the Twilight Realm...his title was new even amongst our circles.
“Yet, there was a time the Prince of Shadow came to Gerudo Valley. Ganondorf held one of his council meetings here. Many of us snuck down to catch a glimpse of the Prince. He was certainly handsome, with his silvery skin shining as if moon beams illuminated his every sharp feature. Eyes bluer than the stormiest sea and bright with passion, ambition, and so much potential and life. And his hair, redder than a tall campfire ablaze in the mid
dle of a starry night.
“Few caught wind of his name. I was one of those few, but even before knowing his name, I knew his face. He was Ganondorf’s son. He was my son, and Ebonie’s....
“He was Zaruman.”
Midna gasped, bracing one hand against the floor to keep from falling over. She fought hard to control her swift, rasping breaths. She blinked back tears as her eyes swelled like the pools of Codiya’s volcano, needing very much to release an overwhelming pressure too long held onto.
Anger raged inside Link, but this time, he allowed compassion to quickly overflow it. Shifting close, he hugged an arm tight around her shoulders as if maybe, just maybe, he could hold together those pieces of her heart which yet lay cracked, some even shattered in Zaruman’s hands. If only Link could stitch those fragments back into a glorious, pure whole. Perhaps, after all was said and done and he could focus on that one thing he would have desired to focus on this entire journey, had he allowed himself to....
He allowed himself to feel just a bit of that desire now, though not too much. He must care enough to protect and comfort her, but until all was said and done, stronger emotions would only hinder their quest—and thus her safety. No, for present, though he could not deny the existence of those feelings, neither could he yet embrace them. He rhythmically rubbed her shoulder until her breathing calmed at last into a steady, quiet pace.
Then, gently slipping his arm from around her, he looked up at Aniya whose eyes shone with both solemnity and great pain. A few tears trickled down her cheeks as she whispered, “I know. Too well. I loved him too....”
As she granted a small smile, Link understood where the weariness and age of her eyes emanated from. He wished his heart could break just a little for both of them, so he could truly understand. Then again, perhaps in this case, he was needed as the stronger one.
“Well,” Aniya rose to her feet, trying to wash all sadness from her eyes and replace it with new determination and a focus on what was important. “Let me take you to the place where Midna’s Requiem will return you to that original sacred Temple of our people....”
Exiting the room, they wound along the stony passages once more. Link still held Midna’s hand, glancing continuously at her in concern. The panic had faded from her eyes, but she did not look at him. Instead, she looked fraught with a deep pensiveness which did not allow her to really see him.
Aniya led them outside, past the fortress, and through a tall gate which led into a wide expanse of desert sand. Not far in the distance, storms raged, kicking up blinding hurricanes of sand and dust.
“The Hero used other means in the days of old to cross the desert,” Aniya said. “Now, only the right Song can breach such borders, and even then, the trials beyond are said to be some of the hardest. But I have faith in you; so should you have in yourselves.”
Link smiled a bit as Aniya’s words echoed those of the happy mask salesman. This time, when he looked at Midna, she’d already dug out her flute with her free hand and smiled faintly at him in readiness. She gently slipped her hand from his, and he fished out his ocarina. Then, together, they played her Requiem and allowed the warp crystal to consume them one more time....
Silent Hero: a tribute to Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda Page 20