Author's note: This is a rewrite of my original story The Legend of the Twilight Princess. Minor and major changes have been made to it to improve the flow of the story and get rid of language-related mishaps on my part, but it is not perfect. If you have any further suggestions and/or constructive critique for me, do not hesitate to review or message me. Any help is very much appreciated.

Sincerely,

DR

Prologue – Ordon Village

Ordon. If ever he had been looking for paradise, he would have shouted out, "By the Goddesses, I've found it!"

The traveller – it was not yet known if he was merchant, musician, storyteller, or keen adventurer – who stepped out of the vast forest of the Faron Province and let his gaze wander over the little blue rooftops and pumpkin patches, would have called it paradise without a second thought. The eight little houses scattered around a burbling river of crystal water, a simple dirt path, and small areas of high grass, were built out of the finest wood found in the neighbouring forest or even carved out of one of the large sequoia trees that grew particularly high and wide. They gave the foreign viewer an image of a perfect little community living like a big family through the seasons.

He began to walk along the road, following and crossing the river using a small wood bridge, and stopped in front of a large and wealthy looking house with a grey-blue tiled roof and a long porch that guided him to a double-doored entrance. But had he continued his ascent up the path he would have arrived at a gate, constructed only by four huge boughs that joined in the middle a good distance over his head like folded hands, with a set of proud horns displayed at the top. Further up the path, a faint bleating would have rung in his ears, the scent of grass, straw, horse, and goat would have ensnared in his nostrils and, had he been of the finer folk from Castle Town, would have made him crinkle his nose in disgust.

But the simple farmers and herders of Ordon Village had never cared about the effect their simple and rural life had on those from the northern lands. They greeted every visitor with the joviality and warmth of a close family member that would have let every traveller's ill thoughts dissipate in a matter of seconds, replaced by a huge smile and a mug of honey ale in their palm while the stout mayor of the small community welcomed them into his house and invited them to sit by his fireplace to listen to whatever news and stories the foreigner had to offer.

The leader would then guide his guest through the village, showing them around and presenting them his fellow denizens. This is what he would tell every arriving visitor with his booming, bellied voice: "Ah, my dear fellow, how nice it is to have you with us. It's so rare that we see a new face around here that I sometimes forget how to speak to strangers. Ah, may I introduce you to Rusl, the blacksmith of our humble village, and his wife Uli. Rusl! How was the hunt? You see, my friend, we had a tough winter last year and ran out of meat halfway through, so this year we have to go hunting more often if we do not want to eat cabbage stew all the time. But the harvest promises to be good this season, so we shouldn't be in much trouble. Here you see Jaggle's watermill, where we grind our corn from the field. If you're looking for our infamous Ordon goat cheese, we should pay Jaggle's wife Pergie a visit. I dare say she did a good job with the goat milk this year. Oh, and remind me to give you a jar of Hanch's fine honey before you leave, his bees were very enthusiastic this spring. His wife Sera owns the shop right here, if you're looking for food for your journey back and a little souvenir for the missus. Oh, and Fado here, he's our master goatherd…"

Mayor Bo's long and fervent discourses were renowned for their amount of detail – and length. His daughter Ilia, a happy girl of fifteen with hair as short as a boy's, usually stepped in after a few hours of touring the small but abundant village, showing the traveller into the mayor's house where a separate room had been furnished with spare beds.

The village was always happy to offer newcomers a good meal and shelter for the night, obtaining in return stories, music, or trading goods from the lands beyond the forest. Ordon's people, even if fond of visitors and eager to buy merchandise not found in the countryside, lived independently from Hyrule, the bigger land in the north. And happily so. They could sustain all their needs with goat breeding, hunting, farming, and collecting. But was there a resource they did not have, like ore for forging or wool for clothing, merchants like the traveller were happy to be engaged in vivid haggling contests over at Mayor Bo's big, grey-blue roofed house with its double doors and inviting porch.

Had anyone with a little farming experience stepped into the village and had looked at the houses, they would immediately have noticed the lone stable attached to a small, crooked building in the back, which belonged to Harold and Gertie. The latter was the weaver of the town in her mid-sixties, and her old, good-hearted husband Harold – being a farmer since he could walk – had over the years traded his rusty scythe with a sturdy walnut walking stick. The only four-legged farming help the village owned were the three donkeys that lived with them, their happy donkey-life filled with plough-pulling, the transporting of wheat sacks, wood, and vegetables, and loving petting from the hamlet's children.

Four there were, two only children and two brothers. Beth, about twelve now. Talo, eleven and stormy as a young boy could be, and his full-cheeked six-year-old, quiet but witty brother Malo. The fourth was the shy blonde-haired Colin, son of Rusl the blacksmith, who was silent and still lacked the courage to believe in himself. A fifth child was on the way in the smith's family and awaited in the following late spring with impatience and anticipation from the entire village.

The remaining inhabitants living their simple life as farmers were Moe and his sister Kila, son and daughter of Harold and Gertie. Both in their forties, they were the backbone of farming in Ordon, happy, working fellows who did most of the labour on the large field behind the ranch. It was the main source of crops as well as hay for the donkeys which the two siblings sowed and then reaped together each fall. The barn on the ranch, which served as stable for the goats, was also a storehouse for all the goods the assiduous farmers collected over the year. Mayor Bo's job was then to make sure each household had everything it needed, distributing the crop out to all his inhabitants equally and in response to every family's needs. Since the town counted just eighteen tenants in total, there had never been any problems with cheating or burglary. The townsfolk were a vigilant, clever, trusting group of people who helped and loved each other like family members. That was why Mayor Bo was so proud of his serene little village of Ordon.

"My dear mayor, you are indeed a lucky man with all these intelligent and hard-working people around you. Yet I have a little question to ask, out of simple curiosity."

The traveller – whom Mayor Bo had entertained with a long monologue about Ordon's self-sustaining prowess before leading him back to the front porch of his large house – scratched himself behind one of his long, pointy ears. It was this elegant pair of hearers that let him stand out from the rest of the villagers who had plain, round ears. He was a Hylian, not a Human like the townsfolk, a young book merchant coming from the lands beyond Ordon and the woods of Faron. It was a good three days' ride from the big city of Castle Town to the reclusive provinces of the south, and it was this fact that let travellers remain so rare in Ordon.

"Since my work is based mostly on that, I dare say that I am fairly chummy with numbers." he continued. "You said there were eighteen villagers here, yet as you led me around I counted only seventeen. Is there someone I haven't met yet?"

A smile crossed Bo's lips. "You impress me, my friend, you counted fairly right. Yes, I think there is someone you have yet to meet, but I have not seen him around here myself today. Oh, Rusl! Wait up, my friend. Do you have any idea where Link is?"

000