The days seemed to pass as sluggishly as the clouds drifting lazily across the sky. Time itself seemed to be walking through water, and every living moment felt as if it was drawn-out and never-ending. The weather had gotten noticeably colder. The residents of Ordon found this unusual; usually the tugs of winter didn't come until later in the year. However, they all passed it off. They had seen stranger things in their lifetime. Early frost was not much of an oddity anymore.

What was peculiar though was the unusual behavior of their beloved Link. Not long after the kidnapped children had returned home, the young man had come riding in on his horse, not interacting with anyone, save for the weak smiles that he would occasionally give someone. Oddly enough, he was even quieter than when he was before he went to go look for the children, and no one had thought that possible. Because he had no parents, Link was like a son to everyone, and everyone shared their concern for him. However, he would not voice what was bothering him, and therefore, any effort to help turned out to be futile.

So they let him be.

Link knew that there were rumors about him spreading about the village. If this had happened a few months ago, Link would be doing everything to stop them. Now he could care less. After what he had been through, rumors were the least of his worries.

Upon the moment he arrived in Ordon, he had nothing to do. It had been a while since Zelda had slapped him, but the sting of her hand was still on his cheek like a humiliating reminder of what had happened. Knowing that it would be best for him to forget it, he concentrated on cleaning his house. While he occupied himself by washing the rugs, hanging them to dry, scrubbing the floors, and dusting every shelf, he found himself forgetting everything that had happened over the course of his journey. When all was done it was sunset, so he lied down on his bed, preparing to rest for the remainder of the day. As he absently watched the suns rays filter through his window, Link noticed that there was a crawling feeling in his back. He did his best to try and ignore it—he hadn't lied on a mattress for awhile, and this feeling was almost new to his body. He shut his eyes tightly, and mindlessly thought of whatever came to his mind. His thoughts began to nosily probe into his more personal side as they unconsciously drifted into the subject of Midna. This, combined with the increasingly annoying sensation along his back, forced him to give up trying to sleep and rise out of the bed. Irritated, Link groped around the dim-lit room and searched the for his lantern, determined to see what was causing him so much trouble. When he felt the cool metal curve of the handle, he slid his hand down, found the spark switch, and flicked it.

He instantly wished he hadn't.

The bed was flea-infested. His mattress wasn't gray because it was excessively dusty; it was gray because of the millions of fleas that had taken residence on his bed. As the light spread around the sheets, the creatures crawled away from it all at once, creating an odd ripple-like effect.

The hero would have fainted, if he wasn't so startled. He wouldn't have been so startled if he wasn't so scared.

An ear-piercing scream rang out in the sleep, silent village of Ordon, causing everyone to look up from their work. A few of them went to fetch their weapons, thinking that someone was being attacked. They stopped when they saw something flying out of Link's window. Upon closer inspection, they saw that it was a mattress. The split second it landed on the ground, the hero tore out of his house, taking the lantern that he was holding in his hand and throwing it on the mattress. The instant the device came in contact with the surface, the mattress caught on fire with an audible whoosh, sent an array of sparks shooting into the sky, and shocked everyone in Ordon simultaneously.

If one had seen the events just mentioned happen before their eyes, they would have described the scene as "baffling."

Panting heavily, Link looked down in horror at the blazing inferno that was his burning mattress. He was glaring at it so intently, it took him a while to realize that all gazes in his hometown were fixed on him. He could feel it. When he thought about how worried they were about him now, he didn't have the courage to look up and explain his actions. Instead, he walked over to where Epona was tied up, freed her, and walked out of the village, yelling "I'm going to the spring!" over his shoulder.

Many people were surprised after what had just happened, and some of the mothers were even scared of Link. The children were the only ones who were excited.

It was the first dose of action that they had had in days.

The soft gurgle of flowing water soothed the pounding of his heart as Link approached the Faron spring. Time always moved to the tempo of it's own metronome in Hyrule, leaving every creature to dance with the beat or be left behind. The spring seemed to be the only place where time stood completely still. It was almost as if it was a safe haven, where tortured and weary souls could flee from their worldly problems and heal their injuries.

Letting go of the lead on Epona, Link padded over to the spring and crouched. With trembling arms he scooped water into his cupped palms and splashed it on his face. He sighed as the coolness of the water sank into his skin. Wanting more, he continued to wash his face, until something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

The sand on the bank of the spring was extremely soft. Any weight on it would leave a deep print that wouldn't be erased until someone stepped on it. Unfortunately, not many people went to the spring, so the split hoof-prints that were left behind after a herd of bullbos trampled the grounds were still on the sand, unblemished.

Until now, all of the memories that Link had of his journey was pushed to the back of his mind, in the process of being forgotten. As he looked down at the footprints, the memory of what had happened on that day at the spring came leaked into his head. With it came everything else.

Ilia hit over the head―have to chase after her―cant move―pain!―in a sewer―I'm her slave―why does it have to be me?―the bridge is gone―in a field―underwater now―who is he? Zant? No! Leave her alone you bastar―I have to hurry! The castle!―No! Can't you see? It's me Link! Stop―No! Get away! I have to get to the castle―

The stream of thought abruptly stopped when he found it hard to breathe. His face was submerged in the water. Gasping for breath, he helplessly flailed around before sitting up, sending water droplets spraying in all directions. Somehow, he must have lost control of his body and writhed about on the sandbank, for he had moved from the spot where he originally was. The water that had once comforted him was now cold and hostile, and the chill sent a shiver down Link's spine. Shakily he stood up, and massaged a temple in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. It was a childhood habit, and eventually turned into a permanent part of his behavior.

In the midst of his self-therapy, Epona nickered softly. This was her way of alerting her rider that there was someone nearby. Naturally alarmed, he stopped the movement in his hand and turned, seeing Fado standing at the entrance of the spring. The look of worry on the ranch hand's face made him mentally cringe.

"Link? Are you okay?" Fado asked. He warily eyed the hero's wet tunic that was slightly plastered with sand.

For a moment, all that could be heard was the gentle gurgle of the water. Then, "Yeah. I'm fine."

His partner sighed. "People―everyone in Ordon is worried about you."

Link tried his best not to snort. "Yes, I've noticed."

"Well, I just want to say. . . whatever is bothering you, you're welcome to tell me, o-or the others whatever you want. You're still young, so I understand if your having problems with a certain someone―"

"I'm fine." It was just a suspicion, but Link was starting to feel as if Fado was inquiring whether or not anything was wrong with the "other gender." Which he really, really didn't want to talk about.

Fado didn't seem to believe him, but he didn't question any further. "Alright then," he replied. His voice contained the hidden note of a sigh. "I came here, actually, to ask if you wanted to help out again."

It took a while for Link to understand. Then he perked up. "Really?"

Fado's mood brightened as well. "Well, the ranch can always use another hand. And besides, you always worked there. Unless―" he trailed off as a thought came to his mind. "Unless you found a place to work somewhere else on your journey. . ."

"No! No!" Link interjected a little too suddenly, and it seemed to have startled Fado. Of course, through his giddiness, the hero failed to notice. "I'll gladly start herding the goats again! When do I start?"

The ranch hand cleared his throat in embarrassment. "You can uh―start tomorrow. Morning." He added quickly.

Link grinned. "Good. I'm looking forward to it."

Fado returned his smile, and left the spring without another word.

"You hear that Epona? We're going to start working again!"

The mare looked at her rider long and hard for a few heartbeats. Then she turned her head and snorted.

"Well, I can't expect you to be happy about it, I guess. You never liked the goats, did you?"

"I suppose. Your whooping nearly drove me to the brink of insanity as well."

Battle instincts kicking in, Link whipped around quickly to face whoever had spoken. To his surprise, no one was there except Epona, who was currently drinking.

Am I going crazy? I know that heard someone talk. It wasn't anyone from Ordon. . .

But Epona hadn't nickered, and she always did when someone was there. The hero gazed thoughtfully at his horse, who gazed back equally.

Silence.

He shook his head and grabbed the mare's lead. It was just his imagination.

Trying his best to ignore the dull, aching pain in the back of his head, the mage laid a hand on his forehead and focused on the pile of rubble in front of him. Blocking out the shouts and barks of the workers behind him, he strained his ears. After a brief heartbeat of searching, the mage heard the familiar deep, low hum of his magic. Closing his eyes, he uttered a spell under his breath. He watched mindlessly as the pile of pebbles, splinters and dust rearranged itself. A moment later there was a heap of bricks and wooden beams where the rubble once was. He sighed, completing his routine that he would soon have to do again.

How many piles of rubble had he restored? Twenty? Fifty? A thousand? It might as well have been. Along with many of the other mages, witches, and sorcerers that had been summoned here, his job was to use his magic to restore Hyrule Castle. One pile of rubble at a time.

When he had heard the instructions, he almost groaned. The magic users here were very powerful. Couldn't all of them stand around the castle and cast a regeneration spell together? That would be much more effective.

Not to mention the fact that they were actually using old material to build a new castle. The mage didn't know much about architecture, but he did know a lot about politics, and he didn't think that it was a brilliant idea to house the individuals that were to govern the kingdom in a castle built from old materials. Especially ones that had crumbled.

The pain in his head came again, and this time it was slightly stronger to the point where he grunted quietly in pain. He saw the witch standing next to him frown in concern, but he ignored her.

All this thinking was making his head hurt. On second thought, maybe it wasn't the thinking. He had been called here in the morning and hadn't rested since then. He almost silently cursed his bloodline, but then remembered his kind, gentle mother and stopped. Oh well. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it anyway. Now if only he could get out of the sun―

"Cadeyrn! What are you doing? Get to work! This rubble isn't going to fix itself!"

The mage was snapped out of his thoughts by the supervisor's bark-like voice. He turned to him, but that only caused his headache to return, stronger, and caused him to grunt in pain.

"Don't you grunt at me! You were called here to fix the castle, so do your job!"

Cadeyrn was not in a very good mood. He was not in a good mood at all. In fact, when he thought back to this moment, he wondered how he had managed to reply to the supervisor without insulting him in any way.

"Sir Rothl," the mage said respectively. "I think I have restored enough piles of rubble for today. May I go rest now? Sir?" He added.

"What!?" Rothl growled. "You want to rest?"

"Yessir."

"Boy, you've only restored a hundred-fifty-three piles, and you're asking if you can rest?"

Only a hundred-fifty-three? "Well, yessir. That's the idea."

"NONSENSE!" Rothl exclaimed so loudly it caused Cadeyrn to jump. "You've got to be out of your mind!" His voice was so loud that it had now drawn the attention of the many builders, workers, and sorcerers that were working and stop them in their tracks. "We want this castle to be finished by the end of this week! How do you expect us to reach our goal if you only restore a hundred-fifty-three piles of rubble! Look around you boy! There's thousands of piles around you! They need restoring"

The mage opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the supervisor's insistent yelling.

"Youth these days! So careless and lazy! Your kind have been causing our glorious Hyrule trouble since the beginning of time! That's all you're useful for."

Although Rothl wasn't insulting his ethnicity, the word "kind" still stung. And even if the supervisor did know about Cadeyrn's background, he doubted that Rothl would show him any respect. Regardless, there was no spell or medicine that he could use to suppress the effects of the sun. He needed to get out of the light before it started hurting him.

"Sir, please. I have to get into some sort of shade. I can't stay in the sunlight to long. It's a. . .um, skin condition." He couldn't find any other way to explain it. "I've had it since I was born."

"Really now?"

The mage felt his shoulders loosen. So the supervisor understood―

"That's an awful shame isn't it?"

. . .What?

"Looks like you will just have to tough it out, my boy." Rothl smirked. "If it gets too unbearable, feel free to take off your shirt."

"No."

The man raised his eyebrow. "No?" He stretched out the single syllable as if it was on a fermata.

"Yes, no. I think that me, and the rest of the sorcerers here deserve a break. We've been working tirelessly since dawn."

"Then keep on working."

"Rothl, I think that you have a disability as well."

Before he could chastise him for using his first name, the mage had Walked over to where the he stood. Cadeyrn furrowed his brow once more and pretended to observe him closely. His eyes lit up with mischief and a bit of curtness as he gave an exclamation. "A ha! I've got it. You don't seem to comprehend Hylian."

For a moment, everything was still. Every workers' movement stopped, the sorcerers lowered their hands, and one witch's mouth was frozen mid-spell. Even the wind had stilled, as if it was surprised that the mage had insulted the supervisor. The one supervisor who prided himself on being pure-blooded Hylian.

"Y-y-y-" Rothl began to stutter in fury. His face was steadily growing red. In fact, his reaction would have been comical if the situation had been different. "Y-y-you. . .filthy swine! Useless, filthy swine! You and your kind. . .no respect for others―"

"Excuse me, but by saying 'kind' are you calling us magic users 'swine' as well?" A bearded wizard inquired.

At this, every sorceror, witch, wizard, and mage began to close in on Rothl.

"Yes, is our blood to unclean for you, o high pure-blood?"

"Are we not worthy enough to be in your presence?"

"What are we but 'useless, filthy swine'?"

For a fleeting moment, Cadeyrn feared that his mischief had caused something bigger than he intended. He started to step in between the now terrified Roth and the angry sorcerers but was stopped.

"May I politely ask what is happening?"

It was Zelda. The mage could recognize her voice anywhere.